Breaking Mr. Cold (Giselle and Donovan) novel Chapter 518

Another week passed. Donovan finally pulled himself together and returned to work. Rather than wasting away at home, surrounded by memories and drowning in emptiness, he chose to bury himself in work. Living felt unbearable, dying wasn't an option, so numbing himself seemed like the only way to survive.

Once he was back, he became a complete workaholic. Every day, he was either in meetings, conducting research in the lab, reviewing endless stacks of documents in his office, or personally inspecting production lines.

He insisted on handling everything himself, taking on hardship for the sake of distraction, refusing to leave himself even a second of idle time.

At the same time, he cut down on nearly all social dinners and business gatherings. He handed every external engagement to Ethan. Donovan no longer had the energy or patience for the deceit and politicking of the business world.

Most nights, he slept in the small room attached to his office, unwilling to return to that empty manor. He knew that if he went home, he would be swallowed by silence and haunted by thoughts of the woman he had lost. Sleep would be impossible.

Around 10:00 am that Friday, he had just gotten out of bed when his phone chimed with a reminder. He glanced at the screen and saw that it was Giselle's birthday.

He had never been the kind of man to set reminders or notifications. Nothing and no one had ever seemed important enough to warrant it. However, after registering his marriage with Giselle, he had made an exception, noting down her birthday in his phone in case his demanding schedule caused him to forget.

He had planned to celebrate her birthday properly this year. From the moment they met to the time they fell in love, fought, and eventually married, he had never once celebrated the occasion or even bothered to remember the date.

The memorial park was located in the southern suburbs of Harthville. It was one of the city's most prestigious cemeteries—serene, beautifully landscaped, and prohibitively expensive. Only the wealthy could afford to rest there.

When Donovan got out of the car, he carried a delicate birthday cake in one hand and a bouquet of fragrant roses in the other. Following the directions Ethan had given him, he passed through the stone archway and began climbing the steps up the hill.

With every step he took, his legs felt heavier, as if weighed down with lead. The composure he had forced himself to maintain slowly began to crumble.