Sir, I Won

At a yacht party, someone teased Brodie Stewart. "Ellen Owen is coming back soon. When are you planning to break things off with Izabella Foster?"

Brodie lowered his head in silence, as if weighing the question carefully.

"I'll wait a bit longer. After all, Izabella is a well-known beauty. She's obedient, considerate, and sensible," he said.

His friend chuckled. "Brodie, don't tell me you've actually fallen for her? Weren't you just chasing her to spite Ellen?"

"Fallen for her? No way!" Brodie's tone dripped with disdain, laced with a hint of mockery. "Izabella and I are just having fun. Besides, I have needs. Instead of messing around with questionable women out there, I'd rather be with Izabella. But when it comes to marriage, I need someone from a matching background. A proper lady from a good family is the right fit."

Every word of the conversation drifted into Izabella's ears, yet her heart remained eerily calm.

After all, her relationship with Brodie had never been about love from the start.

...

Izabella pushed open the door to the private room with composure, her face neutral, as if she hadn't heard a thing.

The friend who had teased Brodie gave an awkward laugh, trying to smooth things over.

Brodie subtly watched her expression. Seeing no reaction, he quietly let out a breath of relief.

She sat beside him, pulling out a thermos of sobering soup she had prepared and handing it to him. "You've had a lot to drink. Have some soup to settle your stomach, or you'll be in pain later tonight," she said.

She carefully poured a small bowl, blew on it to cool it down, and made sure it was the right temperature before passing it to him.

Brodie smiled at her, leaned in, and took a sip from the bowl in her hand.

Izabella had made the soup specifically to soothe his stomach, which often suffered from his irregular work schedule. She had even consulted several experienced doctors to perfect the recipe.

The soup was clear, rich in flavor, and left a lingering warmth in the mouth.

Brodie looked content, wrapping an arm around her and boasting to the others with a touch of pride. "See this? This is the kind of wife you marry. Gentle, caring, and thoughtful!"

His voice was deliberately loud, as if he wanted her to hear every word. "Sweetheart, I feel like the luckiest man alive!" he said.

The affection in his eyes didn't seem fake, as if the man who had just coldly dismissed her wasn't him at all.

Izabella didn't call out his act. Instead, she leaned into his chest with a shy smile, playing the obedient role he loved.

"Don't talk nonsense. Drink more soup," she said with a playful scold.

Brodie seemed pleased with her compliance. Right in front of everyone, he lifted her chin and kissed her boldly, acting as if he were head over heels.

But Izabella knew the truth. Once Ellen returned, everything would change completely.

After the party, she dutifully escorted Brodie home.

As soon as they stepped inside, he pinned her against the wall, kissing her fiercely, as if he wanted to consume her entirely.

Brodie had said he had needs, that he wanted a partner to satisfy his desires.

And his desires were indeed intense.

Ever since they started their relationship, every meeting ended with him keeping her for hours.

That night, with alcohol fueling him, his enthusiasm was even stronger.

On the surface, he appeared refined, a perfect gentleman. But once the mask came off, he was like a ravenous beast.

In these moments, Brodie never considered her feelings, only taking and claiming, doing whatever felt good for him.

Izabella was in pain but had grown used to enduring it silently, even forcing herself to please him by complying and yielding.

Yet, as his earlier words echoed in her mind, a chill spread through her heart.

The man on top of her continued to take her breath away. She held him tightly, letting her emotions spill over as a tear slid down her cheek.

Brodie tasted the saltiness at the corner of her mouth. His movements paused, and he looked up at her, a flicker of panic and uncertainty in his eyes.

"Izabella, did I... hurt you?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He hesitated before asking, "Did you overhear something tonight?"

"No," she replied.

She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Brodie, do you love me?" she asked.

He might have sensed something, but he chose to play dumb. Even his declaration carried a flippant tone.

"Baby, I love you!" he said.

His grip on her tightened as he nibbled her ear, smirking. "Sweetheart, darling, can't you feel it?"

Izabella gave a bitter smile in her heart but indulged his recklessness.

She continued to meet his desires, though she noticed he started paying attention to her feelings, less rough than before.

She still held him tightly, but her thoughts drifted to how she would gracefully walk away once Ellen returned.

After a night of indulgence, Izabella's body ached with every movement.

Yet her ingrained routine woke her promptly at seven in the morning.

She glanced expressionlessly at the man still sleeping beside her, her face finally betraying a flicker of genuine emotion.

But masking her feelings had long become second nature.

She rose, washed up, applied makeup, and tidied herself before heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

When Brodie woke, he saw her with a lovingly prepared breakfast, her face adorned with subtle makeup, radiating gentle charm.

Fresh from sleep, Brodie shed his usual polished, aloof CEO demeanor, revealing a touch of boyish innocence.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind, seeking a kiss, and said with a hint of attachment, "Sweetheart, having you by my side makes me so happy."

She offered a tender smile and nestled into his embrace.

"I'll always be here for you," she said.

Her gaze, filled with devotion, met Brodie's, her confession brimming with emotion. "Brodie, I love you."

Perhaps her eyes were too intense, too sincere, because even Brodie, the master of deception, seemed momentarily unsettled.

His gaze flickered, but he quickly found a way to reassure himself.

He picked up a deed from the table and handed it to her.

"A gift for you," he said. "I know you love that villa in the new development. It has a garden courtyard, beautiful views, and large floor-to-ceiling windows."

Izabella looked at the deed, which bore only her name, her heart leaping with joy so strong she could have run laps, but her face maintained a look of refusal. "This is too extravagant. I can't accept it," she said.

Her eyes shone with determination and pride. "I'm with you because I love you, not for your money... Brodie, are you trying to insult me?"

To uphold her image as a pure, resilient woman, she forced a single tear to glisten at the corner of her eye, making her appear even more delicate and vulnerable.

Brodie, full of affection, gently wiped the tear away.

"Silly girl, don't I know what kind of person you are?" he said. "This isn't just a gift, and it's not about money. It's my heart, my promise to give you a home. Izabella, you can reject the gift, but will you reject my love?"

She couldn't refuse that.

Izabella carefully picked up the deed, her fingers tracing its surface.

A luxury villa in the city center, easily worth fifty million at a conservative estimate-a sum most people couldn't earn in a lifetime.

But her persona couldn't falter.

She looked at him with hopeful eyes. "I want to plant your favorite roses in the garden myself, hang your favorite modern art at the entrance, and fill your study with the sandalwood you love..." she said.

She took his hand, her tone playful. "After work, let's go see our new home, okay?"

"Sounds good," he replied.

Looking at the man before her, Izabella reassured herself that if last night's grievances earned her fifty million, it was well worth it.

She had always known Brodie pursued her only to spite Ellen.

Brodie and Ellen were childhood sweethearts, a recognized pair in their wealthy circle.

Izabella, on the other hand, was a well-known scholarship student at Arbor University.

Her fame stemmed from her beauty, her stellar academic record, and her impoverished background.

The three, who should have had no connection, became entangled because of Brodie's act of kindness.

One night, while working at a club, Izabella was harassed by a drunken middle-aged man. She fought back instinctively, angering him.

In her moment of despair, Brodie stepped in.

He stopped the man's assault and draped his jacket over her to shield her.

In that moment, Izabella felt genuine gratitude, untainted by any ulterior motives.

Brodie's reason for helping was simple-they were schoolmates, and it was a small favor.

But Ellen saw it differently, accusing Izabella of scheming to seduce him and Brodie of being swayed by her looks.

Their argument escalated, two prideful elites refusing to back down.

Finally, Ellen snapped, "Izabella's smart, beautiful, and perfect except for being poor. Why don't you go after her then?"

Brodie shot back in anger, "Fine, I'll start chasing her tomorrow. I'm done catering to your princess attitude!"

True to his word, Brodie began pursuing Izabella with grand gestures the next day.

Izabella knew he was only acting out of spite, so she rejected him repeatedly.

But the more she refused, the more determined he became.

Ellen was furious but powerless against Brodie, so she targeted Izabella instead.

During that time, Izabella endured endless hostility.

Eventually, she gave in and accepted Brodie's pursuit.

After all, setting aside emotions, Brodie was undeniably generous. Over the years, she had gained nearly a hundred million from him.

She considered it compensation for being caught in their game.

But Izabella knew Brodie's heart still belonged to Ellen.

Her only option now was to capitalize on the resources Brodie provided before Ellen's return, building her own career to gain the strength to break free from them both.

Izabella headed to the new house Brodie had gifted her, her heart brimming with excitement.

The property, crafted by a top-tier developer, exuded luxury in every detail, and she genuinely adored it.

What thrilled her most was the deed, which bore only her name.

She had mentioned this place in passing while visiting clients, never expecting Brodie to take it to heart.

Even if this was just a gesture to appease her, she felt compelled to thank her generous benefactor.

She stopped by the store to buy fresh ingredients and cooked her first meal in the new home.

Looking at the table laden with various dishes, she snapped a photo and sent it to Brodie with a caption. "I made some delicious food. Waiting for you at home!"

His reply came quickly. "Great, I'll be there."

A faint joy spread through Izabella's heart, though she couldn't tell if it stemmed from the beautiful villa or from Brodie himself.

But that evening, Brodie didn't show up.

By ten o'clock at night, he was still absent.

She knew he finished work at six and where he had gone.

Yet, as the gentle and understanding girlfriend, she couldn't show any dissatisfaction or urge him to return, even if he was picking up his ex-girlfriend, Ellen, from the airport.

Thanks to mutual friends, her social feed turned into a live broadcast of Ellen's return.

Ellen's flight was delayed, and Brodie patiently waited in the VIP lounge, holding flowers.

When Ellen landed, Brodie embraced her tightly with excitement.

They threw a grand welcome-back party for her.

During a game, Brodie lost and was dared to kiss a woman in the room for three minutes. Naturally, it was Ellen, and a video captured every second of their passionate kiss.

They seemed as close as if they had never been apart.

Brodie's friends, who already looked down on Izabella, posted videos and photos that felt like veiled warnings, as if declaring, "The real princess is back, Izabella, the ugly duckling, it's time to step aside."

Even Brodie forgot his promise to come home.

He posted a photo with Ellen on social media, captioning it, "Through wind and rain, across thousands of miles, I've always been here waiting for you."

Izabella let out a cold laugh, turned off her phone, reheated the food, and played music on the record player.

She sat at the table, savoring the tender beef and sipping a glass of vintage red wine.

She told herself this was how life should be-wasting her happiness on a man wasn't worth it.

Brodie didn't return until the next morning.

Though Izabella felt indifferent inside, she played the role of the caring, love-struck girlfriend perfectly.

She applied makeup to look pale yet still beautiful, as if she had waited up all night, and positioned herself in the living room.

Seeing her like this, Brodie finally remembered his broken promise.

"Izabella, I'm sorry, I..." he began, attempting an explanation.

She forced a smile, her tone full of concern. "You're back. Have you had breakfast?"

"I'm sorry, something came up yesterday, and I forgot to tell you. Ellen, she..."

"It's fine, I understand!" she interrupted.

After all, he could see the same social media posts, and any excuse would sound hollow.

She thoughtfully offered an explanation for him. "You and Ellen grew up together, childhood friends, and your families are close. Now that she's back from her studies, it's only right you went to pick her up. I completely get it."

She let out a few deliberate coughs.

"Izabella, what's wrong?" Brodie asked, concerned.

"It's nothing, probably just a little cold from being careless."

"You're not taking care of yourself. Let me take you to the hospital!"

"No need, it's just a minor thing. Some medicine will fix it."

Brodie quickly took off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders, pulling her into his arms. "You always make me worry."

Out of his sight, Izabella frowned slightly, her expression tinged with disgust.

He had worn that jacket last night, and it carried a mix of unfamiliar tobacco, perfume, and stale alcohol-a nauseating blend.

Still, she hugged him tightly, letting a touch of vulnerability show. "Brodie, if you ever don't need me anymore, please tell me."

Her eyes met his with a resolute gaze, her face holding a brave smile. "Don't worry, I won't cling to you. I'll leave your world quietly, without any fuss."

Brodie instinctively tightened his grip on her arm, his voice urgent. "Izabella, what are you talking about?"

She maintained her gentle smile. "Brodie, I like you-no, I love you! As long as it makes you happy, I'll do anything."

"Silly girl, don't talk nonsense. Why would I ever not need you?" he said, as if reassuring himself. "Besides, you love me so much, how could you manage without me?"

"You're right. I love you so much, how could I ever leave?" she replied.

Her eyes filled with their usual affection, and Brodie visibly relaxed.

He cupped her face and kissed her tenderly, lingering as if to express both affection and guilt.

But inside, she recoiled. He had kissed Ellen last night, drank heavily, and now this-had he even brushed his teeth? It was revolting.

Still, Izabella couldn't show any displeasure. She playfully tapped his chest. "Alright, go change and freshen up. You've got work!"

"What, you don't like me now?" Brodie teased with a grin.

She made a cheeky face. "Yes, I totally don't like you!"

He pinched her waist, leaning close to whisper, "Just wait, I'll deal with you tonight."

Brodie walked to the bathroom in high spirits. The moment the door closed, Izabella's smile vanished, and she wiped her mouth in disgust.

In her mind, she calculated quickly-how much more could she gain from Brodie if she left now?