Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart
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.

Susan turned to Mrs. Turner, who was still standing by the doorway, holding the vase. "By tonight, I want everything that belonged to her out of here. Understand?" Mrs. Turner nodded quickly. "Yes, ma'am."

I crossed my arms, feeling a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, I was glad Susan was taking the lead, clearing out the last bits of my old life.

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

But I shook it off. This was what I wanted-a clean slate, a fresh start.

"You okay with this?" Susan asked, turning to me, one eyebrow raised.

"Absolutely," I replied, forcing a smile. "I like that you take charge."

She smirked, satisfied with my answer. "Well, someone has to. This place needs a woman's touch. A real one."

I chuckled. Susan never held back her opinions. She was blunt, bold, and completely unfiltered.

The opposite of Sarah, who always tiptoed around, trying not to upset anyone.

Susan looked around again, her eyes landing on a painting hanging in the hallway. "And that," she said, pointing at it, "that ugly thing needs to go."

I glanced at the painting. It was some landscape Sarah had picked out. She said it reminded her of our first trip together.

I hadn't looked at it that way before. To me, it was just another piece of art on the wall.

"Burn it or donate it," Susan continued, "I don't care. Just get it out of here."

The servants scrambled to follow her orders, moving quickly to remove the painting. I watched them work, feeling that strange twinge in my chest again.

Like a flicker of something I didn't want to name. I brushed it aside. This was the new life I had chosen.

I was with Susan now, the woman who didn't hold back, the woman who made decisions and stood by them.

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

I nodded, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Exactly. No more looking back."

She tilted her head up and gave me a quick 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 dining room, where Susan had already spread out color swatches, fabric samples, and design plans.

I sat down, listening as she dove into her vision of the penthouse. She talked about tearing down walls, replacing furniture, and changing everything.

And for a while, I felt relieved. This was what I thought I needed. A partner who took charge, who didn't need to be led by the hand.

A week later, the penthouse was barely recognizable.

The walls had been repainted in bold colors that Susan chose, and the furniture was sleek, modern, and all brand new.

Every trace of Sarah had been wiped clean. No more soft cushions or warm colors. It was all cold, sharp lines now. It was exactly how Susan wanted it. Susan was out for a spa day when Martin came by. I had barely closed the door behind him when he froze, his eyes wide as he took in the new decor. "Wow," he muttered, looking around. "This place... it doesn't look like home anymore."

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

He moved further into the living room, eyes sweeping over everything. "Different? More like... sterile. What happened to all the stuff that made this place feel lived-in? Where's-" "Sarah's gone," I cut in sharply. "And so is her stuff."

Martin turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. "Right." He picked up a glass from the bar and poured himself a drink.

He took a long sip, eyeing me over the rim. "So, Susan's been busy, huh?"

"She's making it ours," I said, my voice firm. "I like that she knows what she wants."

Martin shook his head slightly, looking down into his drink. "Sure, but it's... fast, don't you think? You changed everything in a week."

I folded my arms, feeling defensive. "Why drag it out? I needed a fresh start."

"Yeah, but..." Martin let out a sigh. "Look, it's just-"

"It's fine," I interrupted, not wanting to hear his thoughts on it. "Susan's got it under control. I'm happy."

"Are you?" He asked, his tone cautious.

I nodded quickly. "Of course. In fact..." I paused, trying to sound casual. "I'm thinking of proposing to her soon."

Martin choked on his drink, coughing. "What?" he sputtered, eyes wide. "You're what?"

"I'm going to ask her to marry me," I said simply, grabbing a glass for myself.

I poured some whiskey and took a sip, letting it burn down my throat. "Why wait? She's everything I need."

"Richard," Martin started, his voice low and careful. "You just got divorced."

"And? Sarah was never the one for me," I shot back, my grip tightening around the glass. "Susan is. She's bold, she's not afraid to take charge. She knows what she wants." He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face. "Are you sure about this?" he asked finally. "I mean, really sure? Because it seems like you're rushing things." I waved him off. "I've never been more sure of anything. Susan makes sense. She's exactly what I need in my life."

Martin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just hope you don't end up regretting this," he said quietly.

"Marriage isn't just about taking charge or knowing what you want. It's... it's more than that."

I turned away, not wanting to hear his lecture. "You don't get it. Susan and I, we're on the same page. We want the same things. It's not complicated like it was with Sarah." Martin set his drink down, watching me closely. "Alright," he said, his voice heavy. "If you're sure. Just... be careful, okay? You can't undo this kind of decision easily."

I shot him a glare. "I know what I'm doing, Martin."

He nodded, but his face was full of doubt. "If you say so," he muttered, picking up his glass again. "I just hope you're right."