The rooftop remained eerily quiet. Weston stared at his empty hands, unable to believe what had just happened. Stella had fallen, and he hadn’t been able to do a thing to stop it. His fingers had not even managed to catch the hem of her clothes.
The world around him seemed to collapse into silence. Guinevere’s frantic shouts echoed beside him, but Weston couldn’t hear them. His gaze was vacant, emotionless, as if his mind had disconnected from the present. His chest felt hollow, and then a sharp, overwhelming pain engulfed him. It hurt so much that breathing became a struggle. This sensation was foreign to him, one he couldn’t understand, and it left him questioning why his eyes were bloodshot and filled with anguish.
Stella… The name echoed in his mind, over and over, but he couldn’t find a way to process it. The world around him felt unreal. He was detached, lost in his own chaos.
“Weston! Weston Ford, what are you doing?!” Guinevere’s voice was shrill with panic, but Weston didn’t respond. Her eyes were wide in shock as she clutched her stomach and shouted hysterically, “Quick! Hurry up and seize him! Hurry!”
But Weston remained unmoved, trapped in the suffocating grief of what had just occurred.
The wind howled in Stella’s ears as she fell. In that moment, all her fears seemed to vanish. She thought she might have seen Weston’s panicked expression before everything went black, but she quickly dismissed it. No, it must have been a mistake. The man who had chosen Guinevere without hesitation, who had never believed in her, would never feel such pain or sorrow for her.
Her vision blurred, and unbearable pain shot through her body, radiating from her broken bones. Despite everything, her flesh remained intact, and the blood of death couldn’t escape her body. Still, she could feel the life draining from her, slowly but inevitably.
Her tears froze in her eyes, her breath shallow and unsteady. It hurts… Her stomach contracted, and a wave of warmth spread over her skin as the world around her seemed to close in.
Her blood, chilled by the icy wind, finally spilled from her mouth, splattering on the ground beneath her. She was losing consciousness, but the sharp pain never relented. It felt as if death was steadily creeping closer, piece by piece, just as the life inside her was fading away.
A single tear escaped her eye, and Stella’s nose tingled with the unbearable sorrow of knowing she would never meet her child. I’m sorry… for not protecting you…
Two weeks later, everything had returned to normal. The kidnapping incident that had rocked Ahn City seemed to fade from memory. Not many people had witnessed Stella’s fall, and only a few details about it had circulated. However, the story gained attention for a brief period, and there were even live recordings of her fall.
The media quickly picked up on it, but the Ford and Cohen families spared no expense to suppress the information. The stories were taken down almost as quickly as they had appeared, and the public quickly moved on.
Still, some people couldn’t understand why the kidnappers had targeted two women. Guinevere, as Weston’s fiancée and the only woman he had publicly acknowledged, made sense as a victim. But who was the other woman?
The question lingered in the minds of many, but the answer was swiftly buried, and the world moved on.
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