Weston brushed his hand across his face and then looked at the smear of blood on the back of his hand. His lips twitched slightly as he muttered, “She certainly didn’t pull her punches…”
The image of Stella, her cold demeanor in the hospital, flashed in his mind. Weston massaged his temples, trying to ease the tension that had started to build up again.
He had always known that Stella’s reasons for wanting to see him weren’t just simple. According to his plans, everything should have gone smoothly once he sent her and Roger away. They should have disappeared from his life, and he could have moved on. Yet, Ben’s sudden news had derailed all of that. Instead of sticking to his plans, Weston had ended up here, in this hospital, facing the woman he never expected to confront again.
The rejection he faced from Stella had thrown him further off balance. He had never considered himself an impulsive person, but with Stella, it was as if he lost all control. Weston closed his eyes, his mind swirling with the turmoil that had started the day he saw her fall from the building. That storm had calmed when he learned she was alive, but now, with her presence, it was stirring again.
He opened his eyes, and with a resigned expression, he spoke. “Let her do whatever she wants.”
Ben, caught off guard, asked, “What… What do you mean, Mr. Ford?”
Weston stood, glancing at the closed door before looking away. “Waste no more time,” he said firmly. “Fulfill all of her requests as best you can.”
Ben nodded, though he hesitated. “Yes, Mr. Ford. Are we still sending them to Fern City tomorrow, as originally planned?”
“Is everything ready in Fern City?”
“All preparations are complete according to your instructions, Mr. Ford,” Ben assured him. “Ms. Sealey and Mr. Sealey will have completely new identities, and they can begin a safe, peaceful life there.”
Inside the hospital room, Stella could hear nothing but silence. The only sound was her own heartbeat as she lay still, her body trembling from the emotional storm she had just experienced. The anger and pain from the past few days weighed heavily on her, but it wasn’t until now that she realized just how deep her hatred ran.
Her hand instinctively rested on her belly, and tears threatened to rise. But Stella fought them back, determined not to cry. This was the only child she could have ever had, the only chance for motherhood, now lost. Weston hadn’t spoken a single word about the child since she woke up. To him, it seemed as though it never mattered.
While she was suffering, all he seemed to care about was whether her existence might provoke Guinevere’s jealousy. In his eyes, she had no place—no importance. So, in the end, he planned to give her a new identity and send her away, out of sight and out of mind.
Stella curled into herself, her body shaking with the waves of resentment and hatred that rolled over her. She hated herself for getting into this situation, and she loathed her helplessness. She couldn’t even find a way to get justice, to avenge herself. All she could do now was accept her fate, following his plans, hiding away from Guinevere—the woman who had done this to her. The murderer.
Because Weston would never believe her.
Stella squeezed her fists tightly. Embrace the pain, she told herself. Let it hurt until it numbs you. Eventually, the pain will fade away.
In Fern City, life was slower, quieter. It felt like a world away from the bustling streets of Ahn City, more peaceful and detached from the pressures of the world. The changing seasons were more evident here, and the sound of fall creeping in was almost tangible as summer’s warmth gradually faded.
Stella’s days in Fern City began to settle into a quieter rhythm. Time and distance dulled the sharpness of her emotions, and for a while, she even managed to forget Weston. She lived her life, though her past was never far behind.
Still, there were nights when the past would return. In the middle of the night, she’d wake up, drenched in sweat from a nightmare that left her gasping for breath.
One night, the familiar voice of Roger broke through her restless sleep.
“Sis! Sis!” he shouted, banging on her door.
“I’m fine, Roger,” Stella mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. “Go back to bed.”
But Roger didn’t back down, his voice full of concern. “Sis! Are you having that nightmare again?”
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