**When Time Tried to Heal Me But I Refused to Listen by Kael Niro Senn**
**Chapter 162: Cranky Curtis**
Nicole had always felt a sense of caution around certain topics, but she had never realized just how precarious the line she had crossed truly was. The warning from Danielle echoed in her mind, a firm directive never to mention Curtis’s mother when he was nearby. The gravity of her mistake hit her like a tidal wave.
“Curtis… I didn’t mean it. I swear I didn’t,” she stuttered, her voice trembling as panic clawed at her throat. The words tumbled out in a rush, but the sincerity behind them felt fragile, like glass teetering on the edge of a table.
Her legs felt weak, almost as if they were betraying her in this moment of crisis.
If looks could kill, Curtis’s glare would have shattered her into a million pieces, each shard reflecting the fury that radiated from him.
Yet, amidst the turmoil, she summoned the strength to lift her chin. She was Nicole Barton, the granddaughter of Jeremy Barton, and she reminded herself that Curtis would never dare to lay a finger on her. He simply couldn’t.
Across the scene, Adriana felt a pang of empathy. She could see the storm brewing on Curtis’s face, his expression as unyielding as a statue carved from the hardest stone. His anger was palpable, thickening the air around them, making it hard to breathe. It was as if he had the power to extinguish life itself with just a glance.
Then, the sudden sound of tires crunching over gravel sliced through the tension like a knife. A sleek black sedan glided to a halt at the entrance, drawing Curtis’s attention away from Nicole. Adriana followed his gaze, her heart racing. The car door swung open, and out stepped a tall figure, exuding an air of calm confidence.
As sunlight cascaded over him, his eyes sparkled with a faint blue luminescence, reminiscent of sunlight dancing on deep, tranquil waters. He donned a fitted suit that was minimalist yet undeniably elegant, with a single bamboo embroidery gracing the hem, adding an understated charm. The crisp white shirt beneath accentuated his tall, lean physique, giving him an ethereal quality, as if he had emerged directly from the heart of winter—clean, cold, and utterly untouchable.
Adriana’s breath hitched in her throat. She found herself staring longer than was socially acceptable, her mind momentarily blank. It wasn’t desire that held her captive; it was sheer awe.
Justin was impossibly beautiful, in a way that felt almost painful to behold.
In contrast, Curtis possessed a rugged handsomeness that felt dangerous, a kind of beauty that could cut deep. His features were sharp, each line etched with control and rage, like a fallen angel who had wandered too far from grace. People instinctively recoiled from him, sensing the darkness lurking beneath his surface.
Justin, however, radiated a serene presence, calm and compelling in a way that was impossible to ignore. There was something otherworldly about him, an allure that drew the attention of everyone around him without any effort on his part.
“Mr. Lincoln, it’s been a long time,” Justin’s voice flowed smoothly, laced with politeness. He stepped forward, positioning himself protectively between Nicole and Curtis. “I’m here to take my mistress home. I apologize for any trouble caused.”
Nicole felt frozen, her mind struggling to comprehend the unfolding scene. She stared at Justin as if he were a mirage, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. After what felt like an eternity, she finally managed to speak. “You’re the one Grandpa sent to protect me?”
Justin turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers with a quiet intensity. After a brief pause, he nodded once, affirmatively.
A wave of relief washed over Nicole, flooding her with warmth as if she had just been rescued from a stormy sea. She instinctively moved behind him, seeking refuge. “They’ve been awful to me,” she lamented, her tone dripping with self-pity, the words tumbling out like a flood.
Curtis remained silent, his eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Justin’s presence. Adriana noticed the tension; it was unusual for Curtis to be so uncharacteristically quiet, and the coldness between them hinted at a deeper history—one that neither man seemed willing to address.
However, Adriana also observed a shift. The moment Justin arrived, the tempest of anger on Curtis’s face began to dissipate, like dark clouds giving way to sunlight.
“Mr. Lincoln,” Justin said softly, his expression inscrutable. “I’ll be taking her with me now.”



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