It wasn’t the first time Stella had begged him to let her go. She had said these words countless times, but each plea felt like a breaking point. Her desperation was palpable, but Weston, despite the flicker of something in his chest, chose to ignore it. He couldn’t make sense of the emotions swirling within him—something raw and uncontrollable, but foreign and unwelcome.
The car came to a halt by a quiet street. Weston rolled down the window, resting his arm on the ledge. He lit a cigarette and held it between his fingers, yet he made no attempt to smoke. The orange glow of the ember grew closer to his fingertips, sending a sharp sting of pain through him. He flicked off the ash and turned his gaze toward Stella.
“I’ve told you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Your only option is to follow me. Name your price.”
Stella’s heart clenched at his words, and she couldn’t contain the bitterness in her voice. “Why? You already have Guinevere. Why can’t you just let me go?”
At her question, Weston’s eyes betrayed a flicker of something—doubt, confusion? He fell silent for a moment, his mind racing, though it wasn’t clear whether he was asking her or himself.
“What do you think?” he replied, his voice distant. He didn’t understand it himself. Why did he feel this need for her? Was it just a matter of wanting what he couldn’t have during their marriage? Was it about her body? But if it were just that, why had he not slept with her when he had the chance? He had only held her close, both of them untouched by passion. Weston felt lost in his own thoughts, unable to grasp the truth of what he wanted from her. What was she doing to him?
Stella’s voice broke the silence, firm yet broken, her resolve unwavering despite the storm inside her. “It’s impossible between us. You should give up.”
She took a deep breath, gathering the remnants of her strength. “I can’t become your secret lover for money.”
Weston’s response was sharp, almost mocking. “You’re working so hard, willing to work at that kind of place. I thought you wouldn’t mind having more money.”
“It’s not the same!” Stella snapped back. “That’s my job. I’m earning money legally. I don’t care what others think of me. But you? You want me to be your secret lover. Do you know what people will say about me?”
She couldn’t erase the image of Yvonne’s gaze—the disappointment, the silent judgment. It was unbearable. Yvonne was one of the few people who truly cared about her. Could she continue to face her, knowing that Yvonne would see her as a third party in Weston’s tangled life?
“You keep talking about others,” Weston sneered, his patience thinning. “But you still care about her the most.”
He flicked the cigarette out of the window, his irritation growing. Unbuttoning his collar, he leaned in, his voice dark. “If you care so much about her, I’ll take care of it for you.”
Stella recoiled, her eyes wide in shock. “What are you going to do? This is between us. Don’t drag others into this.”
Weston’s expression darkened. “You know we shouldn’t involve anyone else, so why are you rejecting me for the sake of others?”
“I’m not rejecting you for anyone else,” Stella retorted fiercely, her voice breaking as the anger and hurt surged. “I just don’t want to be with you. Don’t you get it? There’s no going back. You’re the one who asked for a divorce. You told me to abort the child. On the rooftop, you chose Guinevere over me. When you told me to die, it was over for us! Why can’t you let me go? Why do you keep barging into my life?”
Weston cut her off, his voice harsh with frustration. “Don’t ask me that again,” he growled, closing the window with a sharp motion. Without hesitation, he unbuckled his seatbelt and moved to the passenger seat, putting the backrest down.
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him. His hand forced her chin upward, compelling her to meet his gaze.
“Do I need a reason to do what I want?” Weston’s voice was quiet but laced with cold determination. “All I want is you. I won’t give up. Your only choice is to submit to me.”
The words hit her like a weight in her chest. Stella’s breath caught as she shut her eyes, trembling.
“Why don’t you just kill me now?” she whispered hoarsely, the brokenness in her voice cutting through the tension in the car. If he had to control her life like this, she would rather not live at all.
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