**When Broken Hearts Learn To Breathe Again**
As Winthrop strolled along the bustling street, his eyes were drawn to a vendor enthusiastically selling spicy hotpot. The aroma wafting through the air was tantalizing, a mix of spices that danced on the palate. It was a dish that held a special place in Yvonne’s heart; she often spoke of the warmth it brought her, a comfort food that always seemed to lift her spirits.
A sleek Maybach glided to a halt at the curb, its polished exterior gleaming under the streetlights. Winthrop emerged from the vehicle, his tall frame and long legs commanding attention from passersby. Yet, despite the curious glances, he remained oblivious, his jaw clenched and his focus fixated on his phone as he dialed a number with a sense of urgency.
“Hello, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable…” the automated voice droned, causing a frown to crease his brow.
Just then, a voice broke through his thoughts. “Hey handsome, your spicy hotpot is ready.”
Winthrop finally looked up, taking the plastic bag from the vendor’s outstretched hand before redirecting his gaze back to the glowing screen of his phone.
“What’s going on with Yvie? Is she still angry?” he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping into his voice. “Her temper just keeps escalating. Tonight, I really need to teach her a lesson.”
A satisfied smile curled at the corners of his lips as he envisioned Yvonne—her soft waist, the way her crimson lips seemed to glow, and the dazzling brightness in her eyes when she was moved. Those memories were both a balm and a torment, stirring emotions he couldn’t quite name.
He paused, his mind racing, and decided to make a quick stop at a nearby convenience store. Inside, he perused the aisles until he spotted a box of small umbrellas—strawberry flavored, Yvonne’s absolute favorite.
With his purchases in hand, he returned to the car, the anticipation of seeing her bubbling within him, and soon he arrived at the villa. A cadre of bodyguards was already waiting, their expressions serious as they approached him.
The leader stepped forward, a hint of pride in his voice. “Sir, we’ve resolved the theft from your safe a few days ago. Nothing was lost, and we’ve dealt with the thief. I even instructed the officers at the station to give her a good lesson.”
Winthrop’s expression hardened. “To dare target the Mendoza Group for theft—she must be tired of living…”
He strode past them, one hand clutching the spicy hotpot while the other held a black plastic bag, his mind uninterested in the details of their chatter.
“Just handle it,” he waved dismissively.
“Even if something had gone missing, it wouldn’t matter,” he thought, his tone cool and detached. “There wasn’t anything of real importance in that safe anyway.”
Winthrop had a peculiar habit of keeping his most valuable possessions tucked beneath his pillow. He believed that no matter where a safe was placed, the mere existence of it was an invitation for theft, as if he were announcing, ‘Everything valuable is inside.’ It was a rather foolish notion, he realized, but it was one he clung to nonetheless, using the safe as a decoy for his true treasures.
He handed the spicy hotpot to his assistant. “Put it in a bowl and fetch a spoon. Yvie loves drinking the soup,” he instructed, his voice firm but tinged with a hint of affection.
With purpose, he made his way to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He lifted the bedsheet and opened the drawer of the bed box, his heart racing slightly.
“Good, everything’s here,” he murmured to himself, relief washing over him.
Inside the drawer lay a vibrant red marriage certificate, a string of matching obsidian bracelets designed for couples—each piece a testament to his bond with Yvonne. Alongside them were a share inheritance document and a proposal ring, all carefully prepared for their wedding day, a future he envisioned with her.
Seeing his cherished items safe and sound, Winthrop exhaled deeply, locking the drawer with a sense of finality. He made his way to the bathroom, ready to freshen up. “Madam!” he called out, instructing someone to fetch Yvonne.
After showering and meticulously grooming himself, he lit scented candles, filling the room with a warm, inviting aroma, and turned the heating up high, creating a cozy atmosphere.
Half an hour later, a knock echoed through the room. Winthrop’s lips curled into a slight smile as he opened the door, only to be met by Chloe.
“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice flat, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
Chloe stood before him in a silk evening gown, the deep V neckline accentuating her delicate features, a faint but rich fragrance enveloping her. Yet, Winthrop’s gaze held no warmth, only a flicker of annoyance.
“Winn, weren’t you the one who asked me to come? You said there was something important to discuss,” she replied, her tone laced with a false sweetness.
Winthrop frowned, his icy gaze narrowing as he shot an unhappy glare at the assistant lingering behind her. “Chloe, you must be mistaken. You’re not the one I wanted to see today.”
He gestured dismissively for her to leave, but before he could close the door, Chloe unexpectedly wrapped her arms around his waist, her lips crashing against his in an impulsive kiss.
“Winn, I know the one you love is Ms. Welch, but we are the ones truly meant to be together. Please don’t reject me, okay?”
Her soft skin pressed against him, her breath warm and inviting, but Winthrop’s expression hardened, his eyes turning as cold as ice.
With a swift motion, he pried her arms away, pushing her aside without an ounce of mercy. “Chloe, don’t forget what you promised me. Get out. Who gave you permission to touch me?”
At that very moment, a bodyguard knocked urgently on the door, his voice rising above the tension. “Sir, Ms. Welch is missing.”
