From Broken to Beloved-Chapter 93- Come with me

On the way, Catherine figured Renata should be awake by now, so she called her. Ever since Renata had been left alone at home, Catherine worried constantly—whenever she wasn’t there in person, she called several times a day, afraid that Renata might suddenly faint or something else might go wrong.

Although the tumor in Renata’s brain had been successfully removed and her recovery was progressing steadily, her age meant that her health could still take a sudden turn at any time. That was why Catherine called so often. Even when there was nothing in particular to say, she would still make the call—just hearing Renata’s voice and confirming that she was safe was enough.

Sure enough, Renata had just gotten out of bed. She had noticed the breakfast she’d prepared earlier and was about to eat.

Catherine told her that she had already helped a colleague buy the ingredients and would be heading straight to the welcome banquet venue instead of going home. Then she reminded her again,

"If he goes back to bothering you today, don’t engage with him. Not at all."

The "he" Catherine was referring to was Channing.

Given Channing’s shameless nature, there was a good chance he would show up again today after being chased off yesterday. Catherine hated that she couldn’t stay by Renata’s side—if she could, she would have confronted Channing head-on without hesitation.

She used to treat Channing with courtesy and respect, but after the heartless things he had done to her, there was no trace of father-daughter affection left in Catherine’s heart.

On the other end of the line, Renata reassured her and told her not to worry, then reminded Catherine to enjoy herself and get along well with her colleagues.

After Catherine hung up, Bert, who was beside her, said calmly,

"You should have your mother call the police."

Catherine glanced at him and realized it wasn’t a bad idea—harsh, but probably the most effective way to deal with Channing. He was ultimately someone who cared deeply about appearances. If Renata really did report him, Channing wouldn’t be able to bear the shame and would likely stop harassing her altogether.

She picked up her phone again and sent Renata a message, telling her to call the police immediately if Channing came to harass her again. Renata replied with a simple "Okay." Clearly, she agreed with Bert’s suggestion as well.

From Renata to Catherine, there was not the slightest trace of lingering affection toward Channing. His relentless harassment only made them see him as selfish, despicable, and disgusting. Renata, in particular, wished he would disappear from her life entirely. Calling the police really was a good idea.

Let Channing harass her once, and she would call the police once. One time would be enough—he couldn’t afford that kind of humiliation.

As for Bert, after instigating Channing’s divorce and handing him eight million, the remaining four million was not something Bert intended to give up so easily.

As for what he once said about Channing reconciling with Renata—of course that had never been sincere. He had only wanted Renata to take full advantage of Channing’s attempt at reconciliation and make him suffer, giving her a chance to vent the bitterness of being abandoned years ago.

The ex-wife he once cast aside like trash, now someone he had to grovel to for a second chance. Channing must have been choking on his own resentment, yet forced to swallow his pride and dignity to beg Renata for forgiveness.

By advising Renata to call the police whenever Channing harassed her, Bert had effectively cut off Channing’s path to reconciliation entirely, trapping him in a dead end with no escape and no one to rescue him.

When it came to tormenting someone, Bert was unquestionably a master.

The welcome banquet was scheduled for midday. Since the venue was in the suburbs, holding it in the evening would have meant everyone returning too late, which would have been inconvenient. Noon was the perfect compromise.

After lunch, there would still be an entire afternoon for entertainment and socializing, and everyone could head back before dinner—nothing would be delayed.

So when Catherine and Bert arrived, they immediately got to work. Bert had hired a professional chef to assist him. While he was capable of cooking many dishes himself, there simply wasn’t enough time for him to handle everything alone—someone needed to take care of the basic preparations.

Catherine pitched in as well. Bert, of course, would have preferred that she didn’t do any of this, but Catherine wasn’t the type to sit back and relax while everyone else was busy. So she helped wherever she could.

Washing fruit, setting the table, or handling any other tasks within her ability—by the time they were done, it was almost time for their colleagues to start arriving. When Catherine finally paused to rest, she noticed that her clothes were unexpectedly dirty.

There were water stains, dust, and some unknown smudges she couldn’t even identify. Her outfit was a light apricot color, which showed dirt easily, making the marks all the more obvious.

Bert noticed as well and suggested casually,

"Go change your clothes."

Catherine shook her head repeatedly.

"It’s fine. I’ll just wear this."

She did think it was a bit dirty, but she didn’t have any spare clothes. She couldn’t exactly wear his, could she?

"Come with me."

Bert glanced at her, then turned and headed upstairs. Puzzled, Catherine followed after him.

Bert walked straight into the walk-in closet on the second floor, while Catherine stopped at the doorway and waited.

It wasn’t long before he came out holding a set of clothes—a soft lavender knit sweater paired with a matching skirt. The color was gentle and elegant, the knit fabric delicate and supple, understated yet refined. Catherine liked it the moment her eyes fell on it.

He handed the outfit to her.

"Put this on."

Catherine hesitated and looked at him. A single man having women’s clothes in his house felt... awkward. She couldn’t help wondering whether they belonged to a former girlfriend, or some other woman who had once stayed here.

Bert saw straight through her hesitation and explained calmly,

"Don’t forget—I’m a fashion designer. These are all brand new. They don’t belong to anyone else."

After a pause, he added, 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"I told you already. I’ve been single and living alone for the past three or four years."

His explanation made Catherine feel a little embarrassed for having suspected him—though, even so, being single didn’t necessarily mean no woman had ever been here.

Still, when she glanced down at her own stained clothes, she ultimately accepted the outfit.

Bert led her to a guest room. After locking the door, Catherine finally relaxed and changed. When she finished and stood in front of the bathroom mirror to tidy herself up, she noticed her hair was a mess as well—she didn’t know what had gotten into it, but there was an odd smell lingering.

She guessed she must have splashed something onto her hair while helping prepare the seafood in the kitchen earlier. Since her colleagues hadn’t arrived yet, she decided she might as well wash her hair too.

After all, it would be a shame to ruin such a lovely outfit just because her hair didn’t match.

Besides, the fit of the clothes was surprisingly perfect—almost as if they had been tailored specifically for her. As she washed her hair, Catherine found herself thinking about it. Maybe it was just because her figure was fairly average?

In reality, these clothes were designs Bert had created for Catherine earlier. He had rushed several pieces into production, intending to give them to her when the timing felt right. He hadn’t expected they would come in handy today.

Only after finishing her shower did Catherine realize a crucial problem—she couldn’t find the hair dryer. She grabbed a towel and roughly dried her hair, then wrapped the towel around her head and stepped out of the room, planning to ask Bert where the hair dryer was.

She couldn’t possibly leave her hair wet like this. What if her colleagues arrived and saw her wandering around Bert’s house with dripping hair? That would definitely invite misunderstandings.

What she didn’t expect was that stepping out like this would cause an even bigger shock.

"Lord Washington?"

She called out softly from the moment she left the room, but no one answered.

She followed the long corridor toward the staircase, intending to go downstairs to look for Bert. But the moment she appeared at the turn of the stairs, she heard voices coming from below—and froze on the spot.

She had been so focused on changing clothes and washing her hair that she’d lost track of time. Her colleagues had likely already arrived.

So after softly calling out, "Lord Washington, where’s the hair dryer—"

the newly arrived employees of Bert Technology, including Silvia and Amy, all saw Catherine standing on the second floor, one hand resting on the railing, a towel wrapped around her head.

Catherine froze completely.

But she wasn’t the only one stunned. The employees downstairs were equally speechless—and even Bert himself paused for a brief moment.

Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to appear like this.

Still, Bert recovered the fastest. He immediately looked at her, his voice gentle and calm.

"Looking for the hair dryer?"

Catherine nodded mechanically.

Bert then turned to the still-dazed employees and smiled.

"Sorry. I’ll go upstairs and get the hair dryer. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Only after Bert headed upstairs did Catherine finally snap back to her senses. Once she fully realized what had just happened, her face flushed bright red in an instant. She raised a hand to cover her face and fled the scene in a flurry of panic, desperate to escape the epicenter of disaster.

Oh my god.

What had she just done?

Running out to look for Bert with her hair still dripping wet—only to be caught red-handed by her colleagues. She had practically confirmed, with her own actions, that there was something ambiguous going on between her and Bert.

Just thinking about it made Catherine feel like she was about to implode. What would her colleagues think of her now?

She knew it. She never should have come to this so-called welcome party of his. Look at this mess—everything had gone completely off the rails. Catherine didn’t want to go back downstairs at all. How was she supposed to face them? She couldn’t. Not a chance.

She holed herself up in the room where she had changed earlier, pacing back and forth in utter frustration.

It was Bert who knocked on the door, hair dryer in hand, knocking politely before coming in.

The moment Catherine saw him like that, her irritation flared. Knocking? What was the point of knocking now, acting all proper and gentlemanly? Everything had already turned out exactly as he wanted—now everyone knew there was something not-so-innocent going on between them.