Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart by Hayley

Chapter 11

Richard

pov.

Susan walked into the penthouse like she owned the place. Her heels made sharp clicks on the marble floor, echoing through the quiet room. She stopped in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, eyes scanning every corner.

I stood back, leaning against the doorway, watching her take charge. She was like a force of nature, and I liked it. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Susan was strong, confident, and every bit the woman I had always wanted by my side. No pretense, no forced affection. Just her, raw and real. "This place needs a makeover," she declared, her eyes sweeping over the furniture. "It still smells like her."

I watched as she called for the servants. They came rushing in, looking nervous. Susan was already pointing out things she didn't like.

"Get rid of that sofa," she snapped. "And that painting-trash it. It's ugly."

She moved through the room like a storm, ordering everyone around. Something was exciting about how she took charge.

Sarah never did that. She was always too timid, too soft.

"Richard," Susan called, waving me over. "Can you believe she kept this old vase?" She pointed to a small, ceramic vase sitting on a shelf. "It's hideous."

I shrugged. "I never really noticed it."

"Well, I did," Susan sneered. "It's going in the trash." She looked at the servants. "What are you waiting for? Throw it out!"

The housekeeper, Mrs. Turner hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking to me for direction.

"Do as she says," I told her, keeping my voice firm.

Mrs. Turner nodded and quickly moved to remove the vase. Susan kept looking around, like a general surveying her territory.

"This place needs an overhaul," she muttered. "I mean, seriously, who decorated this place? It's so... bland."

I knew who she meant. Sarah. But I didn't say anything. Susan didn't need to hear the name to know who we were talking about.

to Mrs. Turner, who was still standing by the doorway, holding the vase. "By tonight, I

was glad Susan was taking the lead, clearing out the last

the other, there was this... nagging feeling. Something I couldn't quite put my

off. This was what I wanted-a

asked, turning to me, one eyebrow

replied, forcing a smile. "I like

"Well, someone has to. This place needs a woman's touch.

never held back her opinions.

who always tiptoed around, trying not to

on a painting hanging in the hallway. "And that," she said, pointing at it, "that ugly thing needs

picked out. She said it reminded her of our first

hadn't looked at it that way before. To me, it was

Susan continued, "I don't care. Just get it

her orders, moving quickly to remove the painting. I watched them

to name. I brushed it aside. This was the

woman who didn't hold back, the woman

around mine, leaning in close. "We're going to make this place ours," she said, her voice confident, almost possessive. "No

her enthusiasm. "Exactly. No

kiss on the cheek. "That's my man. Now, let's talk about redecorating. This place is going to look like it belongs to us, not... you know." We moved into the

sat down, listening as she dove into her vision of the penthouse. She talked about tearing down

felt relieved. This was what I thought I needed. A partner who took charge, who didn't

week later, the

chose, and the

exactly how Susan wanted it. Susan was out for a spa day when Martin came by. I had barely closed the door behind

shrugged, trying to play it off. "It's different, that's

More like... sterile. What happened to all the stuff that made this place feel lived-in? Where's-" "Sarah's

"Right." He picked up a glass

long sip, eyeing me over the rim. "So, Susan's been

it ours," I said, my voice firm.

but it's... fast, don't you think? You changed everything in