The Love I Begged For Was Never Real novel Chapter 258

The sleek Maybach navigated away from the bustling main arteries of The Metropolis, driving into increasingly obscure neighborhoods. It finally rolled to a stop beside a rustic, old-school block on the south side, shaded by towering sycamore trees.

"Let's go,"

Gideon said, pushing his door open. Stepping out first, he extended his right hand, offering Nora a steady grip to help her out of the luxurious cabin.

The gauze on Nora's hands had been removed just a couple of days ago. The fresh, delicate scabs were still too fragile to withstand any impact. He skillfully bypassed the wounded areas on her palms, his movements laced with a subconscious gentleness.

With her hand in his, Nora had no choice but to keep up with his stride.

Her eyes darted instinctively to their intertwined hands.

Her own hands were slender, marred by fresh scars from the coarse gravel.

The man's fingers were long, powerful, and sharply defined, the back of his hand sporting its own set of scabs from the brawl days prior.

The visual contrast was strikingly jarring.

Nora let out a cynical mental scoff.

She had no clue what kind of psychological episode he was enduring lately.

Giselle had thrown a massive tantrum at the club, yet instead of groveling to his precious sister or investigating whatever mind games Julian was playing, he was hovering around Nora, showering her with uncharacteristic affection.

Over the past few days, he had been coming home on time, ordering the kitchen to prepare various nourishing broths. Today, he was blatantly parading her around by the hand, playing the role of a deeply devoted husband.

Something wasn't right; the bizarre behavior was a massive red flag.

Giselle had been freezing him out for days. Nora deduced that this cold-blooded, arrogant man was merely utilizing this childish, out-of-character shopping trip to cope with the brutal reality of Giselle's silent treatment.

This building belonged to The Heritage Vault, the city's exclusive private sanctuary for antique jewelry manuscripts and rough stones.

Gideon pushed open the heavy walnut doors, guiding her into the expansive grand hall.

Soft lighting illuminated the interior, the air thick with the faint aroma of sandalwood mixed with the distinct scent of aged parchment.

Temperature-controlled glass display cases housed top-tier jewelry design sketches from nineteenth-century European royal courts.

The yellowing parchment was covered in intricate setting diagrams and detailed annotations.

Towering display shelves lined the perimeter, loaded with rare, uncut raw gemstones showcasing nature's most magnificent, raw colors.

In a separate section, perfectly preserved antique setting tools—used by royal artisans centuries ago—were prominently displayed.