The Billionaire Who Stole My Heart

Ophelia was the epitome of grace in her sky-high stilettos, mingling among the guests with a smile that belied the searing pain in her heels. She had been enduring the discomfort all evening, but a moment of weakness had betrayed her to Jonathan.

Jonathan had always been headstrong.

Their families, observing the bond between them, turned a blind eye to the little indiscretions of young love.

Seeking solace in the sanctuary of a quiet lounge, Jonathan located a first-aid kit. He knelt before her, reaching out to tend to Ophelia's injured foot.

Ophelia flinched, instinctively pulling back. "Jonathan..."

There was no need for him to go to such lengths.

Jonathan, usually easygoing, could be imperious when he chose to be.

Ignoring her protests, he gently took her foot, removed her shoe, and with meticulous care, dabbed at the wound with a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic. He then applied a band-aid and handed her a pair of comfortable ballet flats. "Don't wear those shoes anymore. Put these on."

Ophelia frowned. "I can't possibly..."

pairing a cocktail dress

his grip firm yet tender on her

warm and persuasive. She found

her a glass of honey water. "You've had quite a bit to drink.

you so harsh with Saskia?" Ophelia

was known for his kindness, rarely speaking ill of anyone. Especially

a

Jonathan downed a glass of the sweet liquid, his voice

Ophelia was puzzled.

questioning his

after someone who didn't love me, then it's my own fault. But if she ever reciprocated, that just means she never really cared,

love with me, then she was

let Ophelia suffer for someone

indeed someone you had feelings for," Ophelia confirmed. "You did a lot for her, even had a falling-out with the Metzgers over

Ophelia. He took her hands with solemnity. "Ophelia, I'm

pause, she replied, taking his hand, "Jonathan, if you ever make me suffer again, I'll kick