How to Train Your Ex-Billionaire novel Chapter 185

Yvan stood by the window, peering through a pair of binoculars at the apartment next door.

Unfortunately, no matter how he angled them, he couldn't catch a glimpse of Winifred.

But since she had accepted the cake, she would probably eat it.

“Happy birthday, Winifred,” he whispered to himself.

Fitch waited by his side until Yvan lowered the binoculars. “Mr. Brown, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading back.”

Yvan nodded.

Fitch glanced at the chili sauce on the table, swallowing hard. “Mr. Brown, since you don’t eat spicy food, maybe I could take this chili sauce off your hands?”

Fitch knew Yvan preferred bland food and stayed far away from anything with a strong flavor.

Yvan shot him a cold glare. “No!”

“Mr. Brown, since when do you eat spicy food? This looks like it was made with Thai chilies,” Fitch said in surprise.

Yvan snorted. “It’s just chili. I chose not to eat it before, but that doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“Could you at least spare one jar?” Fitch asked with a pleading smile. “There are two, and you won’t be able to finish them both.”

Yvan glared at him. “If you want chili sauce, go buy your own. Don’t even think about this one.”

This was made for him by Winifred. He wouldn’t dream of giving it to anyone else.

Fitch pouted. “Store-bought is never the same as homemade.”

“Then go find yourself a girlfriend and have her make it for you,” Yvan said, sitting down and picking up a jar, a smile playing on his lips.

Fitch thought to himself that this wasn’t made by his girlfriend either; it was clearly a gift for him.

But he valued his job too much to ever say that out loud.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Yvan and Fitch exchanged a look. Yvan peered through the peephole and saw Winifred standing outside, holding a plate with a slice of cake.

“It’s Winifred,” Yvan whispered urgently. “You handle this.”

He quickly slipped into the bedroom to hide.

Once Yvan was out of sight, Fitch opened the door. “Ms. Spencer, what’s up?”

Winifred smiled warmly. “Fitch, I just remembered that today is actually my birthday. Your cake was such a perfect and thoughtful surprise, and I’m so grateful. I know you don’t like sweets, but I felt I should at least offer you a piece to try.”

The thought that Winifred was eating a cake he had personally made for her birthday filled him with a sweet joy.

He picked up his phone, opened his chat with Winifred, and after a few minutes of hesitation, he couldn't resist sending a message: “Ms. Spencer, was the cake good?”

Winifred happened to be on her phone and saw Fitch’s message. She quickly replied, “It was delicious, thank you.”

“You're welcome. And I forgot to say happy birthday.”

“You already did, Fitch,” Winifred replied with a playful emoji.

That was Fitch, not me, Yvan thought.

He could only communicate with her by borrowing someone else's identity. The thought was both bitter and sweet.

“Sorry, I forgot,” he typed back.

“It’s okay. I’ll just consider it two birthday wishes.”

Yvan wanted to ask if this was all she was doing for her birthday, if she wasn't meeting up with friends, but he didn't dare say more for fear of making her suspicious. After that, Winifred didn't reply again.

He scrolled through their conversation over and over, when a thought struck him: if he sent her a birthday gift in Fitch’s name, it would seem perfectly reasonable.