Rebirth Swapped Bride: Married to a Ruthless Cursed billionaire Book2-Chapter 152: Even the strongest man too can cry

Bright red blood streamed down her forehead as Beauty instinctively pressed a hand to the wound, crimson droplets seeping between her fingers.

The sight stunned Mr. Williams into frozen silence.

In one swift motion, a pair of strong arms scooped her up.

Lucas’s icy glare sliced toward Mr. Williams was like a blade before he barked, "Get the family doctor—now!"

His pristine white shirt was already soaked scarlet, the damp warmth bleeding through the fabric.

Lucas’s almond eyes widened at the sight of her sweat-slicked forehead and the tense veins bulging at her temples, her heartbeat stuttering.

No sooner had he laid her on the bed that the family doctor and household staff swarmed in, their breaths held, faces glistening with nervous sweat despite the chill of the air conditioning.

The doctor fumbled with the antiseptic, hands trembling as he cleaned the gash on her temple before reaching for sterile gauze.

His unsteady fingers only worsened when Lucas erupted like a rabid beast: "Easy!

Can’t you see she’s biting her lips white from pain?"

The shout sent the doctor’s hands shaking violently, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. A maid rushed forward with a handkerchief to dab his face, her own arms quivering.

"Sir... the wound on Madam’s forehead is quite deep.

It... it may require stitches," the doctor stammered.

"Stitches?!"

Lucas’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets as he grabbed the man by his collar.

"What kind of quack are you?" The word "stitches" pierced through Beauty’s daze.

A raw, terrified wail tore from her throat.

Biting her lip hard, she sobbed uncontrollably, "Does that mean I’ll be disfigured? I don’t want scars on my face..."

Her mind was already in turmoil, but the sound of her crying wrenched his heart.

Her eyes grew misty as he clasped her small hands tightly in his large ones, as if willing all his strength into her.

*How could she be so foolish?

Why did she push me away?

He could have dodged easily—what a stupid woman.

*His* stupid woman, Lucas’s foolish little wife.

Leaning over her, he brushed aside the stray strands of hair from her forehead with surprising gentleness.

Then, without warning, he dipped down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"Don’t be scared, baby.

Just two or three stitches, and it’ll be over.

I promise your face will stay flawless—because you’re my foolish Mrs. Marson."

His voice was tender, but when he lifted his gaze to the pale-faced doctor standing nearby, his expression turned icy.

"Be gentle," he warned, his tone sharp as a blade.

"If my wife sheds a single tear, I’ll break your hands."

The threat didn’t just rattle the doctor—even Beauty, who had been crying pitifully, instantly fell silent.

Her lips trembled as she blinked up at Lucas with watery eyes, looking utterly aggrieved.

She couldn’t bear the thought of an innocent person suffering because of her.

Right now, Lucas was no different from a beast.

She had no doubt he’d carry out his threat.

For Beauty, the next few minutes stretched longer than any she’d endured in her twenty-some years.

She felt the needle pierce her skin, tugging and stitching—each prick like a stab to her heart.

Her fingers dug into Lucas’s arm, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Then suddenly, his face loomed close again.

He shifted back slightly, bracing his hands on the soft mattress in a push-up position, careful not to jostle her and worsen the pain.

His cool lips pressed against hers—soft, intoxicating—momentarily making her forget the pain.

This kiss was unlike any before—so tender, so careful, as if she were a delicate crystal that might shatter at the slightest touch.

Then, suddenly, she felt a damp chill at the corner of her mouth.

Oh God.

Lucas was crying.

He was shedding tears—for her.

Beauty’s heart lurched.

To spare his pride, she pressed her lips to his, kissing away that single teardrop.

"Sir, the wound has been stitched.

Avoid contact with water to prevent infection, and dietary adjustments are necessary.

I’ll inform the kitchen staff about the required meals and supplements for Madam during her recovery."

The doctor exhaled deeply, packing the medical supplies back into the emergency kit before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Turning to Beauty’s pale face, he offered a reassuring smile.

"Don’t worry, Madam.

The scar is very small.

Once the wound fully heals, consistent use of scar-reducing products will make it virtually invisible."

Beauty nodded, forcing a faint smile.

"Thank you.

I appreciate your help."

"Not at all.

We’ll take our leave now."

With that, the doctor ushered the two maids out, gently closing the door behind them.

Now, the vast room held only Beauty and Lucas, their gazes locked in a dizzying silence.

"I’m fine.

Don’t worry too much," she said, mustering a bright smile, her lashes fluttering slightly.

His large hands cradled her wrist, pressing fervent kisses to her skin.

His eyes were rimmed with red, their usual sharpness softened by unmistakable pain.

"How could it not hurt after stitches?"

His voice was low, rough with emotion.

"I won’t let this scar stay.

Once you’ve healed, I’ll take you to the best cosmetic surgeon—use the finest treatments.

Understand?"

He spoke in a near whisper, as if pouring all the patience and tenderness of his lifetime into this very moment.

Never before had he spoken to anyone with such gentleness, his eyes brimming with unmistakable affection.

Suddenly, Beauty lifted her head, looped her arms around his neck, and nipped his chin with playful force.

Their breaths mingled, her eyes reddening—not from pain or fear, but from overwhelming emotion.

For the first time in her life, a man had moved her so deeply.

That single tear of Lucas burned like a searing flame against her heart, leaving an ache that refused to fade.

"Husband..." She didn’t know why, but at that moment, no other words would come.

Everything she wanted to say was packed into those two weighted syllables.

And this time, she meant it wholeheartedly.

She knew he had longed to hear those words for ages.

Pride had kept him from demanding it, but she had always sensed it in his gaze.

Lucas’s hand trembled slightly.

His deep, doe-like eyes suddenly brightened, alight with a blazing intensity as the corners of his lips curled into an involuntary smirk.

"What did you just call me?

I didn’t quite catch that."

Beauty rolled her eyes inwardly, her cheeks flushing pink.

She bit her lower lip and huffed softly, "If you didn’t hear it, then forget it.

I’m only saying it once anyway."

"You wouldn’t dare," he murmured, his voice a mix of dominance and warmth that melted her heart.

"I want you to call me ’husband’ every night, beneath me.

Understood?"