She Left She Thrived She’s Worth Billions novel Chapter 733

"But I only love the food you make. No chef in the world can match your cooking."

Preston Whitmore had barely finished his compliment when Melanie Royce held up a hand, signaling him to stop.

"Cut it out," she snapped.

A cynical smirk pulled at the corner of her lips.

"Don't think a little flattery is going to win me back. I'm not that cheap."

"That's not what I meant." Preston immediately shook his head. "I'm not here to beg for us to get back together."

The moment the words left his mouth, a stormy darkness swept across her face. She looked far more displeased than before.

"Oh, so you're not here to win me back." She crossed her arms over her chest, her scowl deepening.

"Then why did you abandon the Whitmore family's luxurious mansion to come all the way to this rundown neighborhood? Why go out of your way to rent an unfinished, bare-bones apartment right next door to mine? What exactly are you after?"

Backed into a corner by her relentless questioning, Preston instinctively took a step back.

He saw the fierce anger radiating from her and the burning frustration in her eyes, yet he had no idea how to explain himself.

Deep down, he didn't actually believe they had broken up.

Her unilateral decision to end things was triggered by his secret—that he was the head of Stellaris PharmaTech. Judging by her visceral reaction, he knew she had already discovered that Stellaris was the company behind the research project that had caused her mother's death.

More than just asking for a second chance, he wanted to tear everything open, lay the absolute truth bare, and untangle the devastating knot in her heart.

And his own.

Yet every time he tried to explain, she shut him down.

It made him realize that she wasn't ready to have that conversation.

Perhaps the trauma of her mother's death was still too raw, making her instinctively avoid it.

Or maybe she was waiting until she felt emotionally stable enough to hear him out.

Or perhaps...

She pointed a commanding finger at the sofa.

"Lie down."

Obediently following her orders, Preston laid face down on the cushions.

Because it was a cheap rental, the space was cramped, and the sofa was tiny. His broad frame barely fit as it was, and with Melanie forced to squeeze in next to him to apply the ointment, the proximity was suffocating. The friction of their bodies close together caused the temperature between them to spike.

Staring back at her was the prominent scar on his spine.

Even with his excellent physical health, rapid recovery, and top-tier medical treatment, the burn had left a stark, textured mark across his otherwise flawless skin.

Her fingertips, slick with ointment, glided gently over his back. As she traced the uneven, damaged tissue, a heavy lump of conflicting emotions settled in her chest, refusing to be smoothed over.

"If you think taking that boiling soup for me gives you a free pass for what the Whitmore family has done, you are dead wrong."

Having finished applying the medication, she dropped the icy warning and turned on her heel, retreating to her bedroom.

Only when the click of her door echoed through the quiet apartment did Preston, still lying on the sofa, finally part his lips to murmur into the silence: