Benson
Benson 59

Chapter 59 Closing the Heart

When Hannah and Bella arrived, Benson quickly released Yvonne.

His movements were swift and natural, as if the previous tense atmosphere had never existed.

Seeing Yvonne’s mother, Benson immediately put on a friendly and polite face, making it hard for anyone to dislike him. His smile was warm and sincere, like that of a perfect gentleman.

Yvonne felt wronged, but she still smiled at her mother and said, “Nothing, the guest accidentally knocked over a vase.” Her voice was calm, but the tears in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

Hannah looked puzzled, pressing her lips together without saying a word. She sensed something was wrong with her daughter but didn’t know what had happened.

“I have to go out for a bit. Bella will keep you company. Save some dessert for me, and I’ll have it when I get back, okay?” Yvonne said, signaling Bella to distract her mother.

Bella immediately caught on, “Yes, Aunt Hannah, let’s continue. I don’t want to forget the next steps!” She glared at Benson, signaling him not to cause any more trouble.

With Bella leading Hannah away, Yvonne felt relieved.

She told Bella, ‘I’m going to change clothes. Wait for me.”

Back in her room, Yvonne leaned against the door and let her tears fall. Benson’s actions were truly despicable. Her heart was filled with disappointment and anger towards him. She wiped away her tears, took a few deep breaths, and tried to calm herself.

After changing into new clothes and putting on light makeup, Yvonne informed Bella before stepping out.

She saw Benson sitting on the sofa, peeling an apple. His movements were skilled and graceful, as if nothing had happened earlier.

“Let’s go.” Benson handed her the peeled apple, “Didn’t you want one?” His tone was slightly provocative, as if testing her reaction.

Yvonne took the apple, glanced at it, and then threw it into the trash can in front of him.

Her action was decisive, expressing her discontent and refusal.

Benson leaned back on the sofa and sighed, “If you won’t eat, let’s go.” His voice carried a hint of resignation, but his gaze remained sharp.

Yvonne didn’t respond and turned to leave.

Once in the car, Yvonne sat in the back seat, gazing blankly out the window.

Her eyes were empty, as if looking at something far away or trying to escape the oppressive atmosphere inside the car.

Having seen her lively self before, he now saw a beautiful but soulless shell.

Her beauty remained, but the spark and vitality seemed to have been drained, leaving only an empty husk.

Benson, sitting in the driver’s seat, watched Yvonne through the rearview mirror. He thought about trying to comfort her, but she wasn’t the type to be easily consoled.

Her strength and independence frustrated him, but he couldn’t ignore her inner fragility.

Each meeting seemed to end in some form of discord. This cycle exhausted him, yet he couldn’t replace a way to break the deadlock.

After a long silence, Benson finally spoke, “Mary and I aren’t what you think…

His voice carried a hint of explanation, trying to clear up the misunderstanding. However, Yvonne’s response was indifferent.

“No need to explain. It’s not for me to hear,” Yvonne said, not even glancing at him.

Her voice was calm but carried an undeniable distance.

She didn’t want to hear his explanations or be involved in his world anymore.

Benson’s expression darkened, and the car fell silent again. Only the passing scenery outside bore witness to their growing estrangement.

Upon arrival, Benson warmly opened the car door for her.

His actions were graceful, like a gentleman treating a lady.

Yvonne glanced at him, her indifferent face becoming more composed. She stepped out, adjusted her dress, and walked towards the hotel with poise.

They walked towards the hotel hosting Mr. Donald’s farewell, appearing as a perfect couple to onlookers but knowing the unbridgeable chasm between them.

Inside, Mr. Donald arrived soon after. Despite being eighty–eight, he looked no older than seventy, with a robust physique. He warmly patted Benson’s shoulder, “Benson, your wife is

beautiful.” His voice was

strong and lively, not at all like an elderly man near ninety.

Benson smiled, inviting Mr. Donald to sit at the table.

“I think she’s beautiful too,” Benson said, his tone carrying a hint of bitterness.

He introduced Yvonne to Mr. Donald, trying to maintain a harmonious family image.

“Yvonne… is John Winstead related to you?” Mr. Donald inquired, his eyes filled with curiosity and expectation.

“He’s my father,” Yvonne replied, her voice calm but her eyes showing complex emotions.

Mr. Donald laughed heartily, “Benson, John is your father–in–law? The brooch was given to your mother–in–law when John proposed. He designed it, but I cut and set each diamond and turquoise. Your father–in–law was a true romantic.”

Mr. Donald’s words caused Benson’s hand to tremble slightly as he poured tea, his smile becoming a bit strained, “So, you wanted to see the brooch’s

s owner.”

“I hoped to see it again, not expecting it to be John’s daughter. I was hoping you could help retrieve it, for old times‘ sake,” Mr. Donald said, feeling sentimental about John.

A tragic accident had claimed John’s life, leaving behind a grieving family. Mr. Donald didn’t want the brooch, a testament to deep love, to become lost.

Fortunately, it hadn’t.

Mr. Donald’s words touched Yvonne, filling her with gratitude and sorrow.

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She was moved by Mr. Donald’s understanding of her parents‘ love and his willingness to act for its sake.

It also highlighted how shallow Benson’s treatment of her was.

“Mr. Donald, thank you. Let me toast to you,” Yvonne said, deeply grateful.

Mr. Donald laughed, “You’re as straightforward as your father. He was a remarkable man.”

He reminisced about his youth, having gained fame early in the jewelry world, often challenging young designers with his eccentric personality.

The two most memorable individuals were John, decades ago, and now the young Benson.

Discovering they were related was a delightful coincidence.

“Could you tell me more about my father’s younger days?” Yvonne asked, genuinely interested.

Her mother always spoke sweetly about the brooch, but neither of them knew its connection to Mr. Donald.

After all, Mr. Donald was a genius in the jewelry world, pushing the limits of design and craftsmanship.

Benson’s heart was filled with complex emotions.

He knew the brooch was significant to Yvonne but hadn’t deeply considered its story.

Mr. Donald’s words illuminated the significance behind it, making him realize why Yvonne had closed her heart.

He recalled her fading smile and her increasingly distant heart, understanding that it all stemmed from the loss of her father’s keepsake.