From Broken to Beloved-Chapter 192- it was lavish

Bert cast a cold glance at Tracy’s humiliatingly submissive posture and spoke indifferently.

"I can spare your lives," he said. "On the condition that you agree to mine."

Tracy asked in terror,

"What condition?"

Bert took out a check and handed it to her.

"Channing needs someone to take care of him now. I want you to stay by his side and look after him personally. This money will be your wages."

The moment Tracy heard she would have to care for Channing after his stroke, her instinctive reaction was resistance. But when she saw the amount written on the check, she hesitated.

It wasn’t an eye-watering sum—back when she had lived extravagantly, it would have been nothing more than pocket change. But now, with no income and no one to rely on, it was no small amount at all.

Bert raised an eyebrow and let out a cold laugh.

"Your entire family has lost the ability to make a living. Do you really think you still have the luxury of refusing?"

His words struck straight at Tracy’s core. He was right. None of them could support themselves anymore. The Channing estate was no longer theirs. Lucca’s reputation was in ruins. Their only son was still in school, at the age when money was most needed. And as for her—she had no employable skills whatsoever.

She had once relied shamelessly on her years of marriage to Channing, continuing to ask him for money even after the divorce. But now that Channing had suffered a stroke, even that last source of income was gone.

So as she stared at the check, she wavered. And yet, the thought of having to personally care for Channing—after a lifetime of privilege and comfort—

Bert continued calmly,

"I’ve discussed this with Catherine. Your son’s education expenses will be covered by us. If he wants to study abroad in the future, we’ll pay for that as well. But that’s all we’ll cover—tuition only. Everything else is your own responsibility."

Lucca, Channing, and Tracy had brought their downfall upon themselves. But the child was innocent. Bert had no intention of destroying a child’s future because of that.

Though judging by the boy’s idle, aimless ways, his prospects weren’t exactly promising.

Still, Bert would not deprive him of the chance to study. Nor would he stand in the way of further education. That said, what he and Catherine were willing to provide extended only to academic expenses—nothing more.

As for the check he had given Tracy, if she didn’t squander it, it would be enough to ensure her son wouldn’t live too miserably in the future.

Bert felt that he had already gone above and beyond. If Tracy still refused out of spite or foolish pride, then whatever followed would be on her.

Tracy stared at the check for a long moment. In the end, she nodded and agreed.

"A.T. is near the sea," Bert added. "The climate is mild—warm in winter, cool in summer. It’s ideal for recuperation. I’ll arrange for all of you to be sent there."

After Tracy agreed to care for Channing, Bert continued,

"I trust you understand what I mean by ’taking care of him.’ This isn’t something you can half-heartedly brush off. The doctors have said that with proper care, he can recover gradually. The result I want is simple—at the very least, he must regain the ability to take care of himself."

His tone remained cold as he issued the warning.

"Catherine and I will visit regularly. Whether you’re doing a good job or not—we’ll know."

Bert knew exactly what Tracy was capable of. That was why he made his warning clear in advance.

Bert’s true reason for forcing Tracy to care for Channing was simple: revenge.

For the first half of her life, Tracy had monopolized Channing’s wealth, living in luxury and comfort. Now that something had happened to him, why should Catherine be the one burdened with responsibility?

Shouldn’t Tracy bear the consequences herself?

She deserved to stay by Channing’s side, to clean up after him, to handle every degrading, exhausting detail of his care. Only then would it feel satisfying.

After that, they would all be sent off to A.T., far away. Catherine’s role would be limited to providing money and making occasional visits. Nothing else would require her attention.

Lucca—with her ruined reputation—and that useless, unmotivated brother of theirs would all be sent away as well.

That way, Renata could live in peace. Catherine could be free of any lingering worries. And she could finally live well with him—building and tending to their own family, without shadows from the past.

Later, Bert told Catherine about the arrangements he had made for Channing and the others. Catherine had no objections.

For them, this was probably the best possible ending.

Although Catherine had been willing to take care of Channing herself, with Tracy staying by his side to attend to him, there was nothing left for her to worry about. She trusted that Tracy wouldn’t dare mistreat him. By now, they all understood what Bert was capable of—none of them would dare step out of line.

With that matter settled, the two of them flew to the United States to visit Bert’s mother. Catherine was tense the entire time.

To her, Bert’s mother was a rather formidable presence. Even though the two had never interacted before, the mere fact that she and Bert were not particularly close was enough for Catherine to assume that his mother would be difficult to get along with.

After arriving, they first stopped by Bert’s former residence to rest and recover from jet lag. Only after that did they go to visit his mother.

Bert’s mother lived alone in a separate apartment. When they arrived, she was the one who opened the door.

After Bert introduced them, Catherine exchanged a few polite greetings with her. To her surprise, his mother wasn’t nearly as frightening as she had imagined. Her expression was calm—neither cold nor especially warm.

All in all, she gave Catherine a rather comfortable impression.

Catherine quietly let out a sigh of relief.

Before this, Catherine’s image of her had been someone who would bluntly and unapologetically throw her out the door the moment she decided she didn’t like her. She had even voiced this worry to Bert.

Bert had deliberately scared her.

"In the past, she absolutely would’ve done something like that."

Catherine grew even more anxious.

"Then what about now? Would she still do something like that?"

Seeing how unsettled she was—so nervous she could barely eat—Bert couldn’t stand it anymore. He lifted an arm and pulled her into his embrace.

"Are you lacking confidence in yourself," he asked softly, "or in me?"

"I—"

Catherine couldn’t find the words. She simply bit her lip and looked at him, troubled and at a loss.

She truly was nervous—terribly so. If she were actually thrown out by his mother, that would be humiliating beyond words.

"Have a little more confidence in yourself," Bert said calmly, "and a little more confidence in me."

The things she was worrying about would never happen.

If Bert hadn’t been certain that his mother bore no ill will toward Catherine—no rejection, no hostility—he would never have brought her here with such ease and composure. He would never allow her to suffer even the slightest grievance.

It was only after hearing him say this that Catherine finally managed to put her heart at ease. In truth, the closer their trip to the United States had drawn, the more unsettled she had become—so anxious that she’d barely had an appetite.

After Catherine and Bert exchanged a few pleasantries with his mother, they stepped inside. The moment they crossed into the dining room, a rich, savory aroma drifted toward them.

Only then did they realize that a table of freshly prepared dishes was already waiting for them.

And it was lavish.

Neither of them had expected Bert’s mother to go to such lengths, especially since there were only three people dining together. Catherine glanced at Bert, and the surprise on his face mirrored her own.

In Bert’s memory, he had hardly ever seen his mother cook. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have grown up honing such solid culinary skills himself—his mother had never been particularly good in the kitchen, and in her younger years she’d much preferred going out and having fun. Most of the time, he’d had to cook for himself just to fill his stomach.

After the initial surprise, Bert’s brow slowly furrowed.

He found himself genuinely wondering whether any of this food was actually edible.

It was his mother who spoke with a faint smile from the side.

"Looks like my timing was just right. The dishes are all done—once I ladle out the soup, we can eat."

Catherine immediately set down what she was holding and hurriedly said,

"Auntie, let me help you."

His mother waved her off at once.

"No, no. You’ve come all this way—you must be exhausted. Just sit and rest."

With that, she turned and went back into the kitchen. Bert gestured to Catherine that she didn’t need to help either, while he himself followed his mother inside.

Frowning as he took in the chaotic state of the kitchen, Bert finally spoke.

"Are you sure all of this is actually edible?"

He had originally planned to take his mother and Catherine out to eat, never expecting that a woman who had never been good at cooking would prepare such an enormous spread.

It certainly looked grand—but how it tasted was another matter entirely. Bert had little confidence in his mother’s culinary skills. If he had to guess, it would be barely swallowable at best.

His mother went on ladling out the soup, her tone calm and indifferent.

"Whether it’s edible or not, it’s already done. At the very least, it shows my sincerity, doesn’t it?"

For someone who wasn’t good in the kitchen, preparing a table like this had been utterly exhausting. She’d started right after lunch and hadn’t stopped working until now.

After hearing that, Bert said nothing more. He walked over and began cleaning up the mess without a word.

She was right. Whether it tasted good or not no longer mattered. What mattered was that it was clear his mother genuinely cared about Catherine—personally cooking for her carried far more sincerity than simply taking them out to a restaurant.

Bert hadn’t expected his mother to make such a grand effort, and despite himself, he felt quietly moved.

By the time Bert and his mother returned to the table, all the dishes had been served. The three of them opened a bottle of red wine and each drank a little.

Bert was the first to pick up his chopsticks and take a bite of the dish in front of him. The moment he tasted it, his brow furrowed.

The flavor... was truly hard to praise. He had no idea how much salt had been added.

His mother had been waiting for his reaction. One look at his expression told her everything, and she quickly took a bite herself.

She immediately spat it out.

"Way too salty!"