From Broken to Beloved-Chapter 58- I’m boring

Gerald’s parents had despised her from the very beginning. If it weren’t for Gerald’s own willingness, and Channing’s strong efforts to push things forward, her parents would never have agreed to their engagement. Even though she was Channing’s legitimate daughter, the S family still didn’t think much of her. At most, they probably just assumed she had no power or influence and couldn’t inherit Channing’s wealth.

Now, his status, position, and wealth far surpassed those of the S family. Catherine didn’t know what kind of person his mother was, but she had heard about his father, Daniel, and the Washington Co. that backed them. By the standards of Burg Eltz, their family was top-tier. If the S family had looked down on her, then Burg Eltz would be even less likely to regard her highly. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Catherine didn’t want to endure the same humiliation a second time, which made her heart reject the idea entirely.

Ultimately, that night two years ago remained an indelible shadow in Catherine’s mind, leaving her with lingering shame. She felt too insecure to ever confide in a man about the disgrace of that night. So the only way to avoid such a situation was simply not to love any man at all.

In short, Catherine had no romantic inclinations in her heart at all. All she wanted now was to work diligently and take good care of Renata.

Everything else—she didn’t want anything.

She shook her head, took a deep breath, and forced herself to focus on washing, chopping, and cooking.

Partway through, she stepped out for a moment and found Bert just like that, slouched on the sofa, asleep.

His upper body tilted slightly, his head resting against the back of the sofa.

Arms folded across his chest, maintaining a posture both elegant and commanding.

His sharp features had completely relaxed, and a faint trace of fatigue lingered across his expression.

Seeing him like that, Catherine felt a sudden pang of tenderness. She didn’t know what he had been busy with the night before, and she forgot, if only for a moment, the weight of authority and pressure he usually carried. All she saw now was a vulnerable man in need of care.

Knowing the meal would take a little longer, she quietly tiptoed to the bedroom, retrieved a thin blanket, and gently draped it over him before returning to the kitchen.

Bert was a light sleeper, but last night he had stayed up late for a video conference with the U.S. office. Sitting down just now, the sudden quiet had already made him drowsy. He had only meant to close his eyes briefly, though Catherine might have thought he had fallen asleep.

Now, with the blanket on him, the faint scent and the soft texture lulled him completely. He closed his eyes—and for the first time in who knows how long, allowed himself a truly warm, peaceful sleep.

He didn’t know when he had last experienced a moment like this.

He slept soundly, deeply.

When Bert finally woke, the world around him was quiet.

Only the faint tapping of keys from Catherine’s bedroom reached him. He rubbed his forehead, glanced at the clock—and realized it was almost eight in the evening.

Pulling the blanket off, he got up and walked toward her bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar. Bert pushed it open gently and saw her at the computer, focused on her work. She had gathered her hair lightly, calm and gentle in demeanor.

Her fair skin seemed even more radiant, clean and refreshing. The side of her face caught in the glow of the light was soft and delicate, like a lotus just emerging from water, alluringly tender.

Bert just stood there, unable to move.

Partly out of respect for a woman’s private space, partly because he was captivated by her.

Catherine heard the faint movement by the door and turned, and when she saw him, she quickly paused her work and gave him a small smile.

"You’re awake?"

Then she rose and stepped forward.

"I’ll warm up the food."

Catherine had already prepared the meal earlier, but he had been sleeping so soundly that she hadn’t wanted to wake him. She had planned to heat it up when he woke naturally.

Bert leaned against the doorframe, and when she approached, he didn’t move aside. Catherine found herself gently blocked.

He lowered his eyes to her delicate features.

"Why didn’t you wake me?"

Catherine answered truthfully,

"You were sleeping so soundly..."

"You haven’t eaten either?"

His voice was low and gentle, but in the stillness of the evening, it carried a magnetic pull. Catherine felt a shiver run through her, her body tingling with a delicate heat.

"I’m not very hungry either... let’s eat together."

She replied with that, then ran off to warm up the food.

Bert felt a warmth spread through him—a kind of warmth he had longed for.

Someone waiting for him, someone by his side—that was enough.

What he wanted was simple, and fortunately, she was uncomplicated too.

That alone was enough.

Dinner was over eight o’clock, and they ate quietly. In the small living room, the only sounds were the occasional clink of cutlery and their own movements.

Catherine didn’t know what to say to Bert, and he didn’t speak either. She had expected the evening to feel awkward, but by the time they finished, it hadn’t felt uncomfortable at all.

After the meal, Catherine cleared the dishes and returned from the kitchen to find him already holding his suit jacket, standing there. She assumed he was about to leave, but instead, he raised an eyebrow and asked,

"Want to go for a walk downstairs?"

Catherine froze.

A walk downstairs?

Her instinct was to refuse, but he looked at her and said with mock seriousness,

"Your cooking was excellent—left me feeling a bit stuffed. Aren’t you responsible for helping me digest it?"

Catherine couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

"Can’t you just run a few laps yourself when you get home?"

But she had to admit—he was cunning. Complimenting her cooking so directly left her unable to refuse.

He followed up immediately,

"Running alone isn’t fun, is it?"

And then he just stood there, silently implying that if she didn’t go with him, he wouldn’t leave.

Catherine sighed, took her coat, put it on, and followed him outside.

That evening, she had bought clothes for him, cooked for him, and now she was walking with him to help him digest.

Autumn had deepened, and the air had turned cold, especially with the temperature difference between morning and night. Catherine wrapped herself tightly in a thick, long cashmere cardigan.

Even so, as soon as she stepped out of the building, a gust of cold wind made her shiver. Bert immediately draped his suit jacket, which he was carrying, over her shoulders.

The small jacket enveloped her entirely, carrying his crisp, masculine scent through the air straight into her senses. Catherine glanced at him, dressed only in a shirt, and quickly handed the jacket back.

"You should wear it yourself. You can’t just walk around in only a shirt in this weather!"

"I’m fine. I’m not cold."

Bert didn’t take the jacket. Catherine insisted,

"No, no. You have to put it on."

She herself felt chilly even wrapped in layers; he couldn’t go out in just a shirt. If he were just getting into the car it might be okay, but he wanted to walk, and she didn’t want him to catch a cold.

"I really’m not cold. You can try if you don’t believe me."

As he said that, he suddenly reached out and took her hands in his. His large, warm palms enveloped her small ones. The heat radiated through her skin.

Catherine hadn’t expected him to grab her hands like that, using the gesture to make her feel the warmth and assure her he wasn’t cold. After a moment, she realized how sudden it had been and, flustered by the warmth, quickly withdrew her hands and handed his jacket back to him.

"You really should put this on. You carry the responsibility of an entire company on your shoulders."

She then turned and started walking ahead along the path in front of the building.

He was a big shot; if he caught a cold, it could affect the whole company.

When she refused to let him wear the jacket, Bert finally put it on himself, smiling slightly, and followed a few steps behind her.

He could feel that holding her hands had startled her. But the impulse had come so suddenly that reason hadn’t stopped him—he had simply acted on instinct.

They walked side by side in silence for a while.

After a moment, as they passed a small plaza in the community, Bert finally spoke.

"Do you think I’m boring?"