From Broken to Beloved-Chapter 188- how perfect

Bert returned her smile. The moment Lucca’s figure disappeared beyond the door, the smile on his face vanished, freezing over as if sealed beneath a thick layer of ice.

He took out his phone and dialed a number.

"President? This is Bert."

On the other end, the bank president responded with eager flattery. Bert listened, then let out a soft, polite laugh.

"I have a little gift I’d like to offer you—"

He explained matters calmly and efficiently. When the call ended, Bert hung up in clear satisfaction.

The coldness in his smile deepened.

Killing two birds with one stone—how perfect.

As for that bank president, Bert had long intended to deal with him. The man had once dared to covet Catherine—had even entertained the idea of taking her as his second wife. He deserved to die for that alone.

Since Tracy had once been so vicious as to try to offer Catherine up to that man, Bert now saw fit to return the favor—by sending Tracy’s precious daughter, Lucca, straight into the bank president’s arms.

The thought put him in an excellent mood.

He was, after all, a man who held grudges. Everything Tracy and her daughter had ever inflicted on Catherine, he intended to repay—slowly, meticulously, in kind.

He had stopped before, only because Catherine had persuaded him to. He had chosen to listen to her.

But Lucca had insisted on walking straight into the line of fire, insisting on provoking him.

That left him with no reason to show mercy.

By the time Bert finished handling matters at Channing Group, it was already close to noon. He glanced at the time, then called Catherine and asked her out for lunch.

Just as he reached his office door, Lucca appeared in front of him again.

A deep-V cashmere sweater clung tightly to her curves, her cleavage on full display as she smiled at him—seductive and bold.

"Brother-in-law, want to have lunch together?"

Without changing his expression, Bert subtly stepped aside, widening the distance between them.

"I’m heading to a lunch engagement," he replied lightly.

He glanced at his watch.

"I’m running late. Please excuse me."

With that, he strode past her without another look.

Lucca felt unwilling to let him go, but she didn’t dare appear unreasonable in front of him. Since he had said it was a business lunch, she could only give up.

She naturally assumed he was attending a work-related meeting.

What she didn’t know was that Bert lied as easily as breathing.

He wasn’t going to any business lunch.

He was taking Catherine on a date—to a restaurant she’d been craving lately, one famous for its fish dishes.

They met at the restaurant. After ordering, Bert smiled at Catherine and asked casually,

"Don’t you want to know how I dealt with Lucca?"

Catherine shook her head.

"No. But I know she won’t end well."

As she said it, there was no pity or hesitation in her heart. Thanks to people like Lucca, Catherine felt herself growing colder, harder, little by little.

Bert laughed.

"You really do know me."

Catherine followed his lead, her tone playful.

"Of course I do. I know you so well I wouldn’t dare provoke you—otherwise the consequences would be too tragic."

She was joking, of course. She knew Bert could be ruthless toward people like Lucca, but toward her—and toward those he truly cared about, like Lilian—he was always gentle and considerate.

Thinking back to the unease he’d felt earlier in the hospital room, Bert spoke without thinking,

"Why do I feel like I’m the one who doesn’t dare provoke you?"

This time, Catherine couldn’t agree with him at all. She immediately defended herself.

"Hey, hey—how can you even say that? I’ve never once lost my temper with you. Why are you making it sound like I’m some fierce, shrewish tigress?"

As far as Catherine was concerned, ever since they’d been together, she had always been gentle with him. She had never snapped at him, never been harsh. So what did he mean by not daring to provoke her?

Bert was sitting across from her. He reached out and took her hand where it rested on the table.

"It’s not that you’re fierce," he said softly. "It’s because I care about you. That’s why I’m especially afraid of making you angry—afraid of you being unhappy."

Just a second earlier, Catherine had still been protesting the way he described her. But those words instantly filled her heart with warmth.

So the fear he spoke of wasn’t the kind she had imagined—not fear because she was difficult or overbearing, but fear born of caring too deeply.

Because he cared too much, he feared her unhappiness, feared her anger, feared her indifference.

Her eyes grew faintly red. To hide the fact that she had misunderstood him, she gave a small huff.

"Hmph. You really are good at sweet-talking people."

Yet the happiness in her eyes was impossible to conceal.

To Catherine, even his sweet talk was something she liked—and she knew those words would never be said to another woman.

They finished lunch in high spirits. Catherine never once asked how Bert planned to deal with Lucca. She already knew it wouldn’t be quiet—and that the outcome might come as soon as tomorrow.

She had always tried to treat others with kindness, but Lucca refused to accept it. In that case, Lucca would simply have to bear the consequences of her own actions.

After lunch, Catherine returned to the office. Bert said he still had matters to handle and left with his assistant.

For Catherine, this kind of life with Bert was deeply satisfying. They could be together every day, yet didn’t need to cling to each other twenty-four hours a day. When apart, they each focused on their own work and lives; when together, they gave each other their full attention.

To Catherine, this was the best kind of relationship.

Not long after she returned to the office, Catherine received a call from Riley. Riley’s voice on the other end sounded dispirited.

"Cici... he really seems to be angry. About what I said last night—about breaking up..."

Catherine was confused. Hadn’t Ford taken the initiative to pick up the drunken Riley and bring her home last night? Why would he still be angry?

Riley then explained what had happened from last night to now.

On the way back, Riley had vomited several times—thoroughly ruining Ford’s expensive car. After they arrived at his place, she vomited again and was promptly dumped into the bathtub to wash up.

Maybe because she’d thrown up so much, and after soaking in the tub, the alcohol wore off considerably. Once she sobered up, Riley began replaying the night in her mind.

She had asked to break up.

And now she was soaking in his bathtub—how inappropriate was that?

So she hurriedly rinsed herself off, wrapped a towel around her body, and stepped out of the bathroom.

It wasn’t that she was deliberately trying to tempt him by wearing nothing but a towel. She had no choice—her clothes were a complete mess from vomiting, and Ford had already stripped them off and thrown them into the trash.

She planned to borrow something to wear before leaving.

Just as she stepped out, Ford came in from the other bathroom. He had just finished showering as well. His model-perfect physique was wrapped in a bathrobe, the open collar revealing a hint of his chest.

Riley couldn’t help swallowing.

Ford glanced at her expressionlessly and said,

"If you’re done washing, go to sleep."

Then he strode over, long legs closing the distance, his warm palm settling on her bare shoulder as he tried to pull her toward the bed.

"Wait!"

The heat of his hand pressed against her skin, making her tremble. She immediately stepped back, shaking off his hand, and blurted out in a rush,

"I—I already said we should break up—"

Breaking up was something she had wanted to say for a long time. Since she’d already said it while drunk, she decided not to dodge it now that she was sober.

Separating—not because she didn’t love him, but because she felt she wasn’t worthy of that love.