From Broken to Beloved Chapter 190- so fortunate

Breaking up—how could Riley not be heartbroken?

It felt as though she had been hollowed out, as if everything inside her had been scooped clean. Even her body no longer felt like her own, let alone her soul.

If Ford had been anything less than this—less considerate, less gentle—perhaps she wouldn’t have felt so devastated. But the truth was, even though she often kept a cold face when they were together, he had treated her incredibly well.

And that was exactly why the pain and reluctance in her heart only grew heavier now.

In a daze, Riley got up and dressed. When she stepped outside, the apartnt was silent and empty. Ford was already gone.

She turned on her phone and saw a ssage from him:

Riley, if breaking up is your choice, then I wish you happiness—and soone better in the future.

Riley had always been the type who would rather bleed than cry. She was stubborn and tough, tougher than most n. Yet at this mont, staring at that ssage, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

How could she possibly find soone better?

He was already the best.

Riley admitted it—she regretted asking for the breakup. But there was no dicine for regret. And she finally realized that the Ford who had always chased after her had agreed to the breakup so decisively this ti because he was truly angry.

Before, whenever she blurted out "let’s break up" during monts when he pushed her too hard in bed, he had always brushed it off with a grin.

But this ti was different.

This ti, he had left before she even woke up. He didn’t want to see her at all. He even wished her happiness.

That ant he had really given up.

That was why she had called Catherine.

Catherine could tell right away, just from Riley’s voice, that she regretted it. Irritated, she scolded her,

"You’re the one who insisted on breaking up. Now that he’s angry and actually let you go, why are you this upset?"

"If you’re really hurting and you regret it, then go win him back! Tell him what you truly feel. Tell him you don’t not love him—you’re just too in love with him to dare stay!"

Catherine tried her best to persuade Riley, hoping she would hurry and make things right. After all, they had only just broken up. Maybe Ford was just acting out of anger. If Riley acted quickly, there was still a chance to save this relationship.

Riley was silent for a while on the other end of the line. Then she spoke lightly, almost too casually,

"No. Let it be. What’s done is done. He wished happiness—I’ll wish him happiness too."

"Riley!"

Catherine was furious. She couldn’t understand what was going through Riley’s head at all.

"What are you doing? Haven’t you already said you regret it—"

Riley laughed softly. The sound was bitter and lost.

"I do regret it. But then I thought about it again... I still don’t have the confidence to be with a man as outstanding and dazzling as him. So I gave up on trying to get him back."

Catherine didn’t know what to say anymore. She felt anxious about Riley and Ford’s current situation, and her heart ached for everything Riley had suffered in this relationship.

Riley spoke again,

"I won’t keep you from work. I’m going ho to rest."

And then she hung up.

Catherine let out a quiet sigh on her end of the line. After a mont’s hesitation, she picked up her phone again and called Ford.

Whether Riley chose to try to reconcile or not, Catherine felt it was necessary to tell Ford everything Riley had been struggling with internally. Ford was clearly a man with high emotional intelligence—surely he would understand the insecurity buried deep in Riley’s heart.

But when she called, all she heard was the automated ssage: the phone was switched off.

After several unsuccessful attempts, Catherine had no choice but to give up.

Perhaps fate really was predetermined. If Riley and Ford were truly ant for each other, then no matter how long or winding the road, they would find their way back—just as she and Bert had.

After two years of circling around each other, they had finally reunited. They had finally chosen one another.

So when it ca to love, why rush?

Catherine returned to her office and spent the entire afternoon focused on work. That evening, she and Bert still went out for dinner together, because afterward they planned to shop for a gift for his mother in the United States—a trip they would be taking in just a few days.

Bert had already booked the plane tickets. He had proposed, and she had accepted. In his mind, the next step was obvious: take her to et his mother, then move swiftly toward the wedding.

In fact, Bert had already begun preparing in secret. It was mid-December now, and he hoped to hold the wedding on January 1st—a date symbolizing a lifeti together.

Since Renata no longer lived with them, there was no longer the unspoken pressure to rush ho every night, nor the need to cook dinner. After eating out, the two of them strolled through the mall, relaxed and content.

At the very sa ti, however, things were unfolding very differently on Lucca’s end.

Lucca arrived early at the hotel room Bert had given her the keycard for. She showered, changed into what she believed to be her most alluring nightwear, and sat there shyly waiting for him.

During that ti, a hotel attendant knocked on the door and inford her that a Mr. Washington had sent her a bottle of wine as an apology for being late.

Lucca glanced at the bottle—it was expensive. She assud Bert had spared no expense.

Delighted, she accepted it and poured herself a glass. Bert had said he would be late, which she understood completely. People of his status were always buried in engagents. Being late was nothing unusual. Of course she would wait patiently.

After finishing one glass, Lucca began to feel sothing was wrong.

Her body grew uncomfortably hot. Restless. Overwheld by an intense, unfamiliar urge.

By the ti she realized she had been completely set up by Bert, it was already too late. The drug in the wine had fully taken effect. She didn’t even have the strength to leave the room.

All that remained was despair—and sorrow.

Despair at the realization that she was truly ruined this ti. Sorrow at her own foolishness—how naïve she had been to think Bert would ever be drawn to her.

He was a demon. A demon who destroyed people and left them in agony.

Lucca knew it then: she had fallen completely into his trap.

Just as despair swallowed her whole, the door to the room suddenly opened.

She looked up in terror—and instantly felt even more hopeless.

Standing there was the bank president. Old. Repulsive. The very man she and her mother Tracy had once relentlessly tried to push Catherine toward—soone roughly Channing’s age, with a figure and appearance that were painful to look at.

Lucca had originally been reclining lazily against the bed, sipping the wine Bert had sent. Under the influence of the drug, she had torn at her already revealing nightwear, leaving herself barely covered.

The sight imdiately excited the bank president, who had already been drinking and was known for his lecherous nature. He grinned obscenely and hurried toward her, tugging at his own clothes as he moved.

Muttering all the while,

"I never got to taste that Catherine last ti. Didn’t expect to get soone even younger this ti."

To him, Lucca surpassed Catherine in both looks and figure. He was more than satisfied with Bert’s so-called "gift" and threw his heavy body toward the bed.

The last shred of Lucca’s consciousness drove her to scream and try to push him away in revulsion—but it was quickly drowned out by the drug coursing through her system.

What followed descended into chaos.

And that chaotic night was enough to destroy everything Lucca had left.

Everything Catherine had once endured was now being reenacted upon Lucca.

Back then, Catherine had not known that the man from that night was Bert. She had imagined all kinds of possibilities—so disgusting old man, so filthy lecher. The pain, the despair, the anger she could neither na nor release gnawed at her heart day and night for a full two years.

Later, when she learned that the man had been Bert, the knot that had tornted her for those two years finally loosened. What Catherine felt then was not only relief, but gratitude.

She was truly grateful that it had been Bert. Grateful that she could still present herself to him without stain, that there was one less barrier between them. Even though Bert had said he would not have cared if it had been soone else, even if it had been part of her past—

Catherine herself cared.

No girl does not wish to be flawless in the eyes of the man she loves.

But Lucca was not so fortunate.

When she woke the next morning, the man lying beside her was unmistakably the bank president—the very sight of him enough to turn her stomach. Before she could even recover from the shock and revulsion of having been violated by such an old, repulsive man, the door was suddenly forced open.

People rushed in—along with reporters.

Caras clicked rapidly, capturing obscene photographs of her and the bank president, disheveled and exposed on the sa chaotic bed.

The bank president’s wife had already passed away, so in theory, a relationship with another woman should not have been an issue. But the problem was his long history of scandals—nurous affairs, allegations of keeping mistresses, even accusations of exploiting female subordinates. His private life was notoriously corrupt, and his rivals had been waiting for a chance to drag him down.

That night with Lucca was rely one more piece of evidence.

And when those indecent photographs were leaked almost imdiately, Lucca’s reputation was utterly destroyed once again. In Burg Eltz, this city she lived in, there was no longer any place left for her to stand.

But who could she bla?

It was her own malice that had planted the seeds. What she reaped today was rely the consequence.

This was what it ant to suffer the fruits of one’s own actions.