Stella glanced at Weston, ignoring the warning in his eyes. She pursed her lips, said nothing, and continued walking. Weston, irritated, gripped the steering wheel with one hand and unbuttoned the cuff on his wrist with the other.
“There’s a large-scale examination today, so all the cabs have gone to the west district. You won’t be able to get one near here.”
Stella was taken aback that he would bother explaining this to her. She paused for a moment, then replied, “It’s alright. I can take the bus.”
Weston, losing patience, tapped his fingers on the steering wheel before abruptly getting out of the car. Without another word, he strode over to Stella, sweeping her up into his arms in a bridal carry.
Startled, Stella instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck. After meeting his intense gaze, she snapped back to reality and pushed against his shoulders in irritation. “Put me down!”
Weston ignored her protests, effortlessly tossing her into the passenger seat. He leaned down to fasten her seatbelt, the confined space making their bodies almost touch, their breaths mingling in the air.
Stella clenched her fists, glaring at his handsome face only inches away. “What are you doing?”
“Like I said,” Weston replied, his voice cold, “don’t make me repeat myself.”
“I don’t want to get into your car!” Stella snapped, the words escaping her with an edge of frustration.
Weston’s gaze turned darker, and his grip on her face tightened. “You don’t want to get into my car?”
His lips twisted into a small, mocking grin as he studied her, his eyes scanning her expression. “You’ve even gotten into my bed before. So why are you afraid of getting into my car?”
Stella’s fist tightened, the urge to slap him building, but she quickly reined it in. Her situation was precarious, so instead, she let her hand fall to her side. “We’ll be strangers after our divorce, so I don’t want to have any excessive interaction with you.”
Weston’s expression darkened, and he tightened his grip on her face, his voice low and mocking. “If you didn’t want anything to do with me, why did you beg me with tears in your eyes to let you keep the baby?”
His gaze shifted down to her stomach, and a cruel grin spread across his face. “It seems like I’m still a part of you, whether you like it or not.”
Stella’s face fell as the words stung. She bit her lip and steadied herself. “Like I said… this child belongs to me alone. It has nothing to do with you.”
Weston’s thumb traced her lips, and his dark eyes flickered as he saw the red marks on her lips. “Tell me, how do you have a child alone, hm?”
Stella’s anger flared, and she glared at him. “You clearly know what I mean. I want to keep the child because it might be the only one I can ever have. I would’ve kept it no matter who the father is…”
Before she could finish, Weston’s grip tightened painfully, his hostility evident in his eyes. But after a moment, his expression settled into cold indifference, as if he was no longer interested.
Weston’s thumb gently pressed on her bottom lip, forcing her mouth to open slightly. “You look better when you’re crying.”
Stella stared back at him, confusion and hurt swirling in her chest. They were so close, their breaths mixing, and yet she couldn’t understand how he could say such things to her now, after everything he had done.
She turned her head away, trying to create some distance. “You’ll be marrying Guinevere soon. Aren’t you worried she’ll get upset that you’ve carried your ex-wife into your car out here in public?”
Weston’s chuckle was soft but amused. “Not bad. You’re even bringing Gwen into this.”
He studied her clear, defiant eyes. “What else do you have? Try me.”
Stella let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Don’t you love it when women cry, Mr. Ford? Can’t Ms. Cohen compare to my tears?”
Weston’s eyes darkened even further. He released her with a sigh, disinterest flickering in his gaze. “Don’t compare yourself to her.”
Stella looked down, the weight of his words pressing on her chest. “Ms. Cohen is a great celebrity loved by all, so of course I can’t compare to her. But since you love her so much, Mr. Ford, you shouldn’t let an insignificant ex-wife like me be a thorn in her heart.”
Weston’s silence stretched on, his eyes calm, almost resigned. It was as if he agreed with her, but there was no acknowledgement in his expression.
After a long pause, he chuckled again, but it wasn’t filled with warmth. He finally backed away, going around the car to get in. Stella let out a quiet sigh of relief.
As the car moved, Stella frowned. “Where are you going?”
Weston didn’t answer, his focus on the road ahead. His hand casually rested on the steering wheel, revealing the metal watch on his wrist.
“Stardust Mansion,” he replied.
Stardust Mansion. It was their marriage home, the place where their hasty marriage had been sealed. They hadn’t had a ceremony. After getting their marriage certificate, they had a quiet dinner with Roger, and that was it. The place she once called home was now nothing more than a distant memory.
Stella’s gaze retracted. “Great. I just happened to need to head there to collect my luggage.”
It was time to collect their divorce certificate, and with it, Weston would disappear from her life forever.
The mansion was located far from the city center, nestled in a quiet area. While not particularly large, Stardust Mansion was well-positioned, with beautiful surroundings that made it an ideal location for newlyweds.
A black luxury car drove into the yard and stopped in the parking lot. They entered the elevator in silence.
Once inside, Stella couldn’t help but glance around, her feelings conflicted. The decor of the house, once a place she had shared with Weston, felt foreign to her now. It wasn’t unfamiliar, but it had changed in meaning.
Weston was a man who disliked having strangers in his home. He was aloof and meticulous in his professional life, and his private life was no different. Although the mansion wasn’t large, it was well-maintained. The housekeepers came only occasionally, as Weston preferred to keep things private. But Stella had always liked taking care of the house herself, making it her own.
The house felt like hers, yet at the same time, it no longer belonged to her. She ran her fingers along the familiar spaces — the seashell bell chime hanging on the porch, the plush couple slippers she had picked out for them. Weston had called them childish, refusing to wear them at first. But after her repeated requests, he had finally given in.
“Weston…” Stella’s voice was soft as she stared at the shadows they cast on the floor, her heart heavy.
The man stood behind her, his presence like a ghost in the home they had shared. He had rarely come back after their marriage, but this place, their shared memories, had clearly left an impression on him.
His gaze softened, a trace of warmth in his eyes. It was fleeting, like a memory he had let go of long ago.
“Hm?” he asked, his voice low.
Stella hesitated before speaking again. “When are we collecting our divorce certificate?”
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