Bargained Hearts: When Mr. Coldhearted Turns Hopeless Romantic

A bitter chill settled over the night, and the air felt sharp against the skin. Snow did not simply fall. It whipped across the mountains in wild gusts, and the entire range lay buried beneath a heavy sheet of white.

Alone in the open, Millie Morgan remained still as if she had been carved into the frost. After lifting her wrist, she checked the time again and realized that three long hours had slipped by. Disappointment pressed against her chest, yet she forced it down the way she always did. Darren Evans, her husband, was not going to show up.

Even before setting foot in this place, she had sensed how it would end. Still, a stubborn flicker of hope clung to her and refused to fade. She told herself that perhaps he would at least remember the meaning of this date. It was supposed to be their wedding anniversary.

A faint movement crossed her chapped lips. Instead of sharp pain, a dull emptiness spread through her chest, as though her heart no longer had enough feeling left to truly ache.

Without warning, a thunderous blast tore through the silence above her.

Startled by the sudden sound, she lifted her gaze. Fireworks exploded across the sky in dazzling waves, each burst painting the darkness with bold, lavish color.

So he did come after all.

As the brilliant glow shimmered in her eyes, warmth returned to her expression. Hope surged through her veins, and she hurried toward the vacation villa.

However, the moment she swung the metal gate open, her steps halted. The courtyard overflowed with people who were laughing loudly, calling out to one another, and exchanging playful jokes.

Near the center of the courtyard, someone had pitched a triangular tent that stood firm against the cold. In front of it, a bonfire crackled and sent sparks into the dark sky. Strings of decorative lights hung overhead, and they cast a gentle glow that softened the harsh winter night. From the grill nearby, thin streams of smoke drifted upward and mixed with the cold air. Altogether, the place looked inviting and warm, almost like a scene from a holiday postcard.

Not far from the fire, Darren had already taken off his coat and draped it over another woman's shoulders so she would not feel the cold. With barely any space between them, he leaned closer as she tilted her face toward him, and they held each other's gaze as though the world around them had faded away.

Suddenly, another explosion echoed across the sky.

High above them, a massive firework burst open, and its sparks slowly shaped themselves into a blooming red rose. In the center of that glowing flower, bright letters formed the words, "Happy Birthday, Zoey."

At that exact moment, something inside Millie seemed to break beyond repair.

Memories rushed back without warning. When they were younger, he had once stood in this very place and promised her that it would belong only to them. He had said that on every important day, he would come here with her and with no one else.

A crushing ache spread through her chest, and it refused to loosen its grip.

From somewhere within the crowd, a voice rang out. "Isn't that Millie? Why is she here?" The man who spoke did not bother to hide the disgust on his face.

Hearing the commotion, Darren shifted his attention toward her. Millie steadied herself and forced the tears to retreat before they could fall. By the time their eyes met, the only thing she could see on his face was a chilling lack of emotion.

After noticing the change in Darren's expression, Zoey Murray curved her lips into a pleased smile and made her way over. "Millie, did you come to join my birthday celebration too?" she asked in a light and playful tone.

Instead of answering right away, Millie slowly shifted her eyes away from Darren and focused on Zoey.

Dressed in a fitted white sweater and a pair of jeans that traced her curves, Zoey looked polished and effortlessly charming. A faint blush colored her smooth skin, and it was clear she had been drinking.

In contrast, Millie stood there with tangled hair and a thick puffer jacket that swallowed her frame. Fatigue clung to her, and she seemed completely out of place among the lively crowd.

Without bothering to consider Millie's feelings, Zoey reached for the elegant three-tier cake and cut herself a neat slice. With steady hands and quiet confidence, she held it out. "I had no idea you planned to come. We have almost finished everything, but if you would like some cake, you can have this."

Millie's eyes landed on the word "Love" written in frosting, and a sharp pressure rose in her throat.

From the side, one of Darren's friends let out a scoff. "She was not even invited. Why are you wasting your time talking to her?" he said, and the disdain on his face was obvious.

"Come on. Don't say that. She's still Darren's wife."

With a gentle laugh, Zoey delivered the reminder as though she was being kind, and her tone carried the air of someone granting permission rather than acknowledging a fact.

Another voice came from the side. "Zoey, you're far too tolerant. The truth is, if her brother had not used that injured hand as leverage to push Darren into marrying her, Darren and you might already have children by now."

Instead of speaking up, Millie remained silent. Her eyes stayed on Darren as his friends mocked her without restraint, and she waited to see whether he would stop them.

Not once did his expression shift. Although his brow drew together at the mention of the past, he kept his mouth shut and allowed the humiliation to continue.

Gradually, a chilling sense of composure took hold of Millie.

With her back straight, she finally spoke. "Leave. All of you." Her tone carried the authority of someone who still claimed ownership of the house.

Zoey's friend stepped forward at once. "Who do you think you are ordering around?" she asked. "This belongs to Darren. Do you still believe you are some unreachable heiress?"

Rather than trade insults, Millie turned her attention back to Darren. Facing him directly, she said, "Tell them to clear out right now. If you do not, I will set this entire place on fire."

A crease formed between Darren's brows.

Without raising her voice, Millie continued, "You are fully aware that I am capable of it."

Seeing the tension rise, Dustin Wall, who had known Darren for years, stepped in carefully. He remembered the woman she used to be and how merciless she could become when cornered. "Millie, listen to me..."

Before Dustin could finish, Darren stepped in. "Do exactly as she asked," he said, cutting the conversation short.

Shock flickered across Zoey's face. "Darren?" she called gently, unable to hide her confusion.

Without lifting his gaze, Darren spoke in a low and gentle voice, yet his tone carried firm finality. "Dustin will take you home first," he said, leaving no space for discussion.

Left with no choice, Zoey forced a small nod and softened her voice on purpose. "Please talk to Millie calmly. There is no need to argue," she said sweetly.

In every situation, she managed to appear patient and considerate, as if she were the only one being reasonable while Millie was the source of chaos.

Ignoring the crowd behind her, Millie strode into the villa she had once arranged with care. It now looked disordered and trampled, as though strangers had claimed it. After stepping over scattered items on the floor, she made her way to the sofa and lowered herself onto it.

Moments later, Darren entered as well. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and leaned back against the wall while studying her expression. "Do you find this amusing?" he asked coldly.

Instead of losing control the way she had in the past, she remained composed. There were no tears and no angry accusations. Meeting his gaze steadily, she spoke evenly. "Darren, I want a divorce."