CHAPTER 32: CHAPTER 32- INSIGHT.

"I know."

His voice interrupted her introduction—cool, detached, but carrying a faint trace of laziness. Catherine found it a little odd. She hadn’t told him her number, had she? But then she realized—he knew about Renata’s situation and had stepped in to help. He must be well-informed about her circumstances; knowing her number didn’t seem so strange after all.

He had always operated from a position of control, hadn’t he? She had just never understood why he was willing to help.

Catherine explained the purpose of her call, and despite herself, she spoke formally.

"Earlier, we talked about designing a ring for you... I’ve just finished sketching a few designs. Could you give me your email so I can send them over?"

These were just rough sketches. She wanted his opinion first.

If he liked them, that would be fine. If not, she would revise—after all, this was a gift for him, and it had to suit his taste.

"So quickly?"

His calm voice came through the receiver, with a slight note of surprise.

Catherine thought for a moment. True, she had worked quickly. She had only promised to design the ring that afternoon at the hospital, and now she already had the first drafts.

Worried that her speed might give the impression she had rushed or been careless, she hurried to clarify.

"I finished them quickly, but I haven’t been careless—"

At that moment, an unpleasant smell suddenly reached her nose. She remembered the ginger tea she’d left on the stove. Panic struck—she had probably let it burn.

"Oh no!"

She exclaimed, then quickly added,

"Sorry, sorry. Something came up here. I’ll call you back in a moment."

She tried to hang up, but his deep voice stopped her.

"What happened?"

"I... I forgot the ginger tea on the stove."

After saying this, Catherine hung up and dashed into the kitchen. Sure enough, the tea had boiled dry. She had checked it briefly when she first started sketching, thinking the heat might still need adjustment. Then she had focused entirely on her designs and completely forgotten about it.

Frustrated, she hurriedly turned on the range hood and opened the kitchen window wider, trying to vent the burnt smell that filled the room.

She washed the pot, started a fresh batch of ginger tea, and only then returned to her bedroom.

This time, she wasn’t taking any chances. She planned to keep an eye on the stove while talking to Bert on the phone.

Before she could even call him back, the phone rang. It was Bert returning her call. She quickly picked up, only to hear a voice on the other end that was darker, heavier than before.

"Catherine, can you really treat someone else’s concern so carelessly?"

He had always carried an intimidating aura, and now, his tone laced with anger made it even more imposing.

Catherine froze, bewildered. "Huh? When did I ever treat his concern carelessly?"

Seemingly realizing she didn’t understand, he continued in a colder voice, clarifying.

"At the café earlier, I lent you my suit. You turn around and go stand in the rain yourself. Isn’t that trampling on my intentions?"

Finally, Catherine understood. He had lent her his suit and sent her to the hospital to prevent her from catching a cold in the rain. Yet she had gotten soaked anyway, which in his eyes was her disregarding his care.

But she hadn’t done it on purpose. She wanted to explain.

"I didn’t mean to get wet. I— I ran into Gerald at the hospital entrance—"

"I have no interest in hearing about your ex," he cut her off, voice cold and unyielding. Then, just as abruptly,

"My email has been sent to you."

And with that, the call ended.

Catherine clutched the phone, feeling completely baffled.

Bert, of course, felt his intentions had been trampled. He knew she couldn’t afford to catch a cold—not with Renata needing care—so he had sent her to the hospital and lent her his own coat. Yet she had still ended up standing in the rain. All that effort that afternoon seemed wasted.

When she tried to explain, he had only grown angrier at the mention of Gerald.

Bert had always despised unresolved relationships with exes. And Catherine’s personality—gentle and indecisive—looked like the kind most likely to leave things messy and lingering.

But in this, he was completely wrong. Despite her gentle demeanor, her relationship with Gerald had been severed thoroughly—cleaner than anyone could imagine.

After hanging up, Bert took a shower and, once clean, felt a measure of calm.

Looking back, he realized how ridiculous his anger had been. Her getting wet, catching a cold, or lingering feelings for an ex—what did any of it have to do with him?

Glancing at the clock, he noted it was still early. Deciding to make use of the time, he went to his study to catch up on work. For a single man like him, any spare time inevitably went to work.

Clad in a pure black Channing robe, he cut a striking figure in the dim study light. The robe traced the contours of his sharply defined face, and the slightly open collar revealed a strong, solid chest—every inch the embodiment of masculine elegance and magnetism.

About an hour later, just as Bert was shutting down his computer to sleep, his inbox pinged with a new email. It was from Catherine—her design sketches attached.

He had expected that, after his earlier reprimand, she might have refrained from sending them at all. After all, she was the one who owed thanks; if offended, she could easily have decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.

But she had kept her word, sending the sketches as promised.

From this, it was clear: she had no temper to speak of. Her gentle patience was the opposite of his own penchant for grudges—two extremes colliding.

Bert glanced at the designs and found his attention completely captured.

For someone who had spent years immersed in the world of design, it was rare for a piece to genuinely catch his eye.

Yet these few sketches from her surprised him.

Her design style, like her personality, was fresh and simple. But that simplicity carried a subtle charm, like a gentle breeze in spring. It was neither ostentatious nor grandiose, and certainly not heavy or oppressive.

At first glance, the details weren’t flashy. But the overall impression compelled one to look again and again.

For someone as meticulous as Bert, it was almost impossible to find any flaw.

If he had to nitpick, the only minor drawback was that she might have tailored some elements specifically to his tastes.

But in his view, that was entirely unnecessary. A true designer should have the ability to have their work accepted for what it is, not endlessly alter themselves to please a client.

Every client’s requirements differed, and if a designer constantly changed their designs to match each client’s whims, they would never develop their own style.

And for a designer, lacking a personal style was the gravest misfortune. Without a distinct style, no one would remember them.

After studying the sketches carefully, he sent her a simple reply:

"Be yourself. There’s no need to change your work just to cater to someone else."

After sending this message, he turned off his computer, choosing not to prolong the discussion.

Undeniably, she possessed a natural talent for design. But a truly capable designer relied not only on talent and inspiration but also on intelligence and insight.

If she understood the meaning behind his words, he was confident that by the time he powered his computer back on the next morning, he would receive a design that would meet his satisfaction.

Though she was merely designing a ring for him, he found himself evaluating her with the same critical eye he used for the designers in his own company.

After thinking it over, he finally forwarded her contact information and the sketches to the HR department responsible for recruitment, instructing them to notify her to come in for an interview the next day.

If she passed the assessments in other departments, he would not mind her being a newcomer—he was willing to offer her the position.

As a seasoned designer, he valued talent deeply and knew how to recognize potential. At the very least, her sketches had passed his test.