She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 947

Helena's hand trembled violently. The fruit knife slipped from her grip, clattering against the edge of the tub before sinking into the bloody water.

She frantically grabbed a handful of white foam, desperately trying to cover the bleeding gash on her thigh, shrinking back into the corner of the tub like a cornered animal.

"S-Sir..." she stammered, her voice shaking uncontrollably.

The sheer panic of being caught self-harming, combined with the visceral fear of his icy stare, left her completely paralyzed. Her eyes instantly filled with tears, exposing her overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

Morris stared down at her from his commanding height. His dark eyes were as deep and unreadable as the ocean—devoid of disgust, yet entirely stripped of pity.

Still holding the bag, his tone remained as smooth and polite as ever, but it carried an absolute, undeniable authority.

"Stand up, wash off, and come out."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and considerately closed the bathroom door behind him.

Helena sat frozen in the tub for several seconds. Biting her lip, she scrambled to her feet, grabbing the showerhead to frantically wash away the soap and the blood.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, clutching a towel tightly around her shivering frame, Morris was already sitting on the bedroom sofa, an open first-aid kit resting beside him.

"Come here," he commanded softly, lifting his gaze.

Helena shuffled over, keeping her head bowed like a child caught misbehaving. "I'm sorry. I couldn't control it."

She had completely lost her grip today.

Moving with elegant, practiced precision, Morris opened a packet of sterile swabs and iodine. His long, aristocratic fingers grasped her thigh, firmly holding her in place as he cleaned the wound.

The sting of the antiseptic on torn flesh made Helena flinch, but she bit her lip, refusing to make a sound.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify