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He wanted to say something—but the words caught. All he could do was look at her like she was his whole world.

The second thing that rushed into Lorenzo’s mind was Larry’s advice from the day before—right after he’d asked, defeated and tired, how the hell he was supposed to win Krystal back.

“To win over a woman again,” Larry had said with all the seriousness of a self-declared love guru, “you need to spend more time together. Consider her feelings in everything. And most importantly, create moments that make her cherish you again.”

Lorenzo hadn’t taken it seriously then. Now, lying in a hospital bed, staring at the woman he’d taken for granted too long, the words stuck like a thorn in his chest.

He let out a low groan, his voice rough and slightly shaky. “It hurts… a lot.”

Krystal’s brows pulled together in worry. Her eyes dropped to the bandage on his forehead. “It hurts that much?” she askedsoftly, her touch barely grazing the side of his head with featherlight care.

He didn’t open his eyes. “Yes,” he muttered.

She immediately withdrew her hand and turned toward the door. “Wait—I’ll get the doctor—”

But before she could take a step, his hand reached out and caught her wrist, stopping her.

“I’m fine,” he said, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “I just wanted you to feel bad for me.”

His voice, even with its teasing edge, carried a boyish vulnerability that didn’t match the cold, ruthless man she was used to. He guided her hand back gently to his head. “Do that again. It felt nice.”

Krystal frowned, her fingers slipping free of his grip.

He watched her pull away, disappointment flickering in his eyes.

“I didn’t expect Mr. Moretti to have such a childish side,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Lorenzo’s gaze traveled slowly from her hand to her face. She stood still, the hospital light catching on her tired features, and after a pause, her voice softened.

“Thank you… for today,” she said. “If you hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me.”

“Just a thank-you?” His brow arched slightly, lips twitching. “That sounds way too formal.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, not amused. “Fine. I won’t take the fifty million you gave me for treating Esther. That’s my way of returning the favor. Is that sincere enough?”

His expression changed instantly—lips flattening, jaw tightening just a bit. “Do you really think I helped you for money?”

Before she could answer, he caught her hand again, pulling her closer, bringing that hand to his chest.

“I’ve been thinking about you constantly,” he said, all the humor gone. “I know I was horrible to you. I pushed you away. I don’t expect forgiveness overnight. I just want one chance. One chance to earn your trust back. Let me make things right, Krystal.”

A flicker of surprise passed through her eyes.

For a long time, the man in front of her had been cold, distant—a Cactus who pricked her every time she got too close. Now, that same man sat before her, vulnerable and open in a way she had never imagined. Like he’d been carrying regret for far too long.

Her chest tightened. For a moment, she didn’t know how to react.

Because she wasn’t innocent either.

She’d entered the marriage fully aware of Esther’s place in his life. It was supposed to be transactional—a favor for his grandfather. A duty. Something to cross off a list.

But somewhere in the middle of all that pretending… her feelings had turned real.

And that scared her more than she’d ever admit.

Without saying a word, she gently pulled her hand free. He didn’t stop her this time.

“I should go,” she whispered, her voice fragile, barely audible.