From Broken to Beloved-Chapter 158- Filthy creep

Catherine dodged him slightly and lowered her voice to remind him,

"You should hurry back to your own room. Don’t let my mom notice anything."

Catherine still believed that Renata knew nothing at all, so she went to great lengths to keep everything hidden. Bert had considered telling her that Renata already knew everything, but then thought better of it. Catherine was rather thin-skinned—if she truly realized it, she would surely feel embarrassed, and even living here would become uncomfortable for her.

And if she felt uncomfortable, it would inevitably affect her mood with him, which in turn would affect the quality of their intimacy—something Bert absolutely would not allow to happen. In the end, he said nothing. Reluctantly, he let her go, got out of bed, and returned to his own room.

Since she was willing to keep up the act, he would play along. They could talk about it when the performance could no longer continue.

The three of them slept well that night.

Breakfast the next morning was prepared by Bert.

Renata felt a little embarrassed by it, but Bert didn’t think much of it at all.

"I’m used to getting up early," he said casually. "And I’m good at cooking, so making breakfast isn’t a big deal for me."

With just a few words, he eased Renata’s slight awkwardness. After breakfast, Bert and Catherine headed off to work. Now he no longer had to make a long detour to pick her up—they could simply leave together.

Before leaving, Bert deliberately changed the password to the front door lock, setting it to Catherine’s birthday. He explained to Renata,

"I changed the door code to Cici’s birthday. It’ll be easier for you to remember, so you won’t forget it when you come back from going out for a walk."

He then briefly introduced Renata to the general layout of the residential complex and pointed out important directions. His attentiveness warmed Renata’s heart. Once everything was settled, he and Catherine finally headed out for work.

Catherine’s hand was wrapped securely in his palm. Her heart felt full, overflowing with gratitude. She couldn’t help thanking him again,

"Thank you..."

Thank you for being so thoughtful and patient with Renata. Thank you for giving her such a happy life now.

They stopped in front of the elevator. Bert turned to look at her, his expression completely serious.

"Don’t ever let me hear you say ’thank you’ again like that—so distant," he said. "Otherwise, you’ll see how I deal with you tonight."

Catherine, "..."

Ever since they’d crossed that line into intimacy, he often used that as leverage against her. Every time, it left Catherine both indignant and helpless.

She was already struggling to keep up with his demands. If he really carried out his so-called punishments, she was afraid she wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed the next day.

So she could only glare at him lightly, then turn her face away and ignore him.

After the news of Gerald and Lucca’s marriage broke, Morrison received the wedding invitation. Naturally, he also asked for one on Bert’s behalf—after all, Morrison knew perfectly well that Bert intended to stir up trouble at Gerald’s wedding, so an entry ticket had to be secured in advance.

The invitations were delivered to Morrison together. Openly or otherwise, Gerald wanted nothing to do with Bert. He hated him—hated that Bert had won Catherine, and hated even more that Bert had forced him into marrying Lucca.

Fine, get married then. Gerald had originally thought that simply registering the marriage would be enough. But Bert, through Morrison, demanded that the wedding be held on a grand scale. To Gerald, Bert was nothing short of detestable—despicable and infuriating.

What Gerald didn’t know was that Bert intended to expose Lucca publicly at the wedding and clear Catherine’s name. That was precisely why the wedding had to be lavish, and why the more guests there were, the better. Only then could the truth reach as many people as possible—only then could everyone see Lucca’s despicableness and Catherine’s innocence and purity.

Following Morrison’s instructions, Sean went to deliver the invitation to Bert. After parking in the underground garage, he took the elevator upstairs. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a woman dressed in a sharp, stylish outfit stepped in gracefully on high heels.

She was tall, wearing a dark green wool coat cinched at the waist with a belt that accentuated her slim, supple figure. A large black bag hung from her arm, giving her a distinctly professional air.

One hand hooked the bag while tucked into her coat pocket; the other held a phone to her ear.

At first, Sean heard her speaking politely, negotiating something with the person on the other end. She seemed to be a designer, repeatedly explaining how reasonable and outstanding her design was.

After a while—whatever the other party said—Sean heard her let out a cold chuckle.

"Mr. diago, how about this," she said coolly. "Let me ask you a favor."

The other party seemed to ask what it was. Her pretty face turned icy as she replied flatly,

"Please send my regards to your ancestors—eight generations back."

She hung up decisively. As she tossed her phone into her bag, she added under her breath,

"Disgusting old pervert. Filthy creep."

Sean, standing nearby, was caught off guard by her "greetings to your ancestors" and couldn’t help laughing. A soft snort escaped him.

She really was a refreshingly straightforward woman. Sean had been in the workplace for years—one listen was enough to tell that the other party had made some improper demands. The fact that she dared to push back so openly showed she was someone with principles.

The woman was Amy. She had just met with a client, and the discussion had continued over the phone afterward. Toward the end, the man had said he’d be willing to use her design—if she slept with him. Furious, she’d cursed him out on the spot.

In truth, Amy had already sensed his ill intentions during the meeting, but she hadn’t wanted to give up. She’d believed she could win him over with her talent. Instead, she discovered that his mind had long been corroded by filthy thoughts, and in the end, he still said something that vile.

Amy snorted inwardly. How did people like that even make it into upper management? Letting someone like him make decisions in that way—weren’t they afraid the company would go bankrupt?

After hanging up, Amy heard someone laugh behind her. There were only two people in the elevator—herself and the man behind her. He must have been laughing at her outburst just now. After all, it wasn’t as if he was laughing at nothing.