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..."

ever heard of pairing a cocktail dress

please," Jonathan urged, his grip firm yet tender on

was warm and persuasive. She found

poured her a glass of honey water. "You've had

you so harsh with Saskia?"

kindness, rarely speaking

was a

the sweet liquid, his voice laced with disbelief. "Hard to

Ophelia was puzzled.

he questioning his past

she wouldn't have disappeared when I was hurt. If it was just me chasing after someone who didn't love me, then it's my

"Given my status, if she wasn't in love with

for someone who didn't love

confirmed. "You did a lot for her, even had a falling-out with the

with solemnity. "Ophelia, I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you. From now on, I

Ophelia felt a ripple of emotion. After a pause, she replied, taking his hand, "Jonathan, if you ever make me suffer again, I'll kick