She could feel the rage radiating from the man in front of her. His hand pressed down on her shoulder with such force that it felt like he intended to crush her bones.
Weston held her tight, as though he wished he could keep every part of her for himself. The sight of her smiling at another man had ignited a fire in him. Only after their kiss did he feel a bit of relief.
As he kissed her, his hands moved restlessly over her body. Disgusted, Stella shoved him away with all her strength. “Let go of me!” she yelled.
She was fighting with all her might to stop him from touching her. His kisses, his affection—everything about him only repelled her.
But the more she resisted, the more enraged he became.
“So you’re willing to degrade yourself to satisfy him and his son, but you won’t do it for me?” His voice boomed in fury. “How old is he? Forty? His kid is barely ten years younger than you! Why not come be my son’s stepmother, if you like being with him?”
As he spoke, he began tearing at the button of her shirt.
Fear made Stella’s hands tremble. Without thinking, she slapped him hard across the face.
The sound of the slap rang out sharply in the room.
Weston paused, taken aback. He looked up slowly, holding himself steady, and she could see through the gap between her fingers that his face bore bruises, including a swollen corner of his lips. She had no idea who he had fought with, but she didn’t care. The words he had just spoken were unforgivable.
“I’d rather die than be your and Guinevere’s son’s stepmother!” she spat. “I’ll never forget how my child died.”
The mention of the child brought a sharp, painful silence.
Weston closed his eyes, haunted by memories he couldn’t escape. He knew Stella dreaded the thought of that child, and the pain of losing him had turned into a vengeful obsession.
But it didn’t make him feel any better.
His fist clenched tightly, and with a sudden, violent motion, he slammed it into the wall. Blood poured from his knuckles, splattering down his fingers and staining the wall. The bloodstains formed a hauntingly beautiful but terrifying pattern.
The room fell into a tense silence. Only their heavy breathing filled the air.
Stella avoided his gaze, too afraid to meet his eyes. After a long moment, Weston looked at her with icy coldness before removing his jacket and tossing it at her.
“Wear this,” he ordered.
She didn’t move. She didn’t catch the jacket. Instead, she stood still, staring at him with quiet intensity.
Her eyes were crystal clear, filled with hatred. Her unkempt hair framed her face, and even in the dim light, she was breathtaking.
Weston shifted his gaze away, as if unable to look at her any longer.
“If you don’t want people to see you like this, put on the jacket,” he said, his voice cold.
She sneered, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “I’m in this state because of you. You always act like you’re in the right, pretending to show kindness when you were wrong from the start.”
Her words, sharp and bitter, cut through the tension.
Weston’s blood-streaked knuckles still dripped, and the room stank of iron. Her words were like poisonous vines, creating a rift between them. Yet, he no longer cared. His attention shifted, his voice cold as ever.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to go out there and tell that father and son that you won’t be seeing them again,” he ordered.
For the first time, Stella’s eyes showed a flicker of emotion. They dimmed, her gaze hardening into something cold and unwavering.
“Impossible,” she said, shaking her head.
That one word struck Weston like a blow to the chest. He tightened his grip on her, suffocating her with his hold. Even as her face turned crimson, he didn’t let go.
“Don’t test my patience,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
She had too many ways to make him lose control. The first time had been when he saw her fall from the building. Now, he had to watch her start a life with another man. She would rather be someone else’s stepmother than spare him a second glance.
The thought alone was enough to push him to the brink.
“If you’re unwilling to tell them, I don’t mind helping you,” he hissed.
Stella’s eyes widened, fear flashing in them. “What are you planning to do to them?” she asked, her voice frantic.
She tugged desperately at Weston’s wrist, using all her strength to break free from his grip. “I’ve chosen to be with Justin!” she yelled. “We’re getting the marriage certificate tomorrow! Stop interfering with my life!”
Her breath came in short, unsteady bursts, but she’d said everything she needed to say.
At that moment, Weston released her. He stood up, his aura shifting from one of fury to eerie calm. He looked down at her with a frightening tranquility.
His silence unnerved her far more than his anger had.
Leaning against the wall, Stella winced at the sharp pain gnawing at her back, but she had no time to focus on it. Her eyes never left Weston as she spoke, her voice steady and final.
“I’m marrying Justin,” she said, each word clear and deliberate. “We need to stop this now. You have your life, and I want to begin mine.”
Weston didn’t respond.
She expected him to be furious, but he wasn’t. He was quiet, unnervingly so. The tension had drained from the room, replaced by a heavy, awkward silence.
Weston casually sat on the sofa, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Stella, huddled in the corner with her clothes in disarray, watched as he retrieved a cigarette from his jacket and lit it, the smoke curling around his fingers.
He exhaled slowly, his gaze distant.
After a long pause, his gruff voice broke the silence.
“Are you purposely making me angry?” he asked.
Stella shook her head, her tone resolute. “No. I’m serious.”
A smile crept onto Weston’s lips, but it was cold, mocking.
“What good will you get from marrying him?” he asked. “You’re already marrying him so quickly…”
Stella lowered her head, the irony evident in her voice as she spoke. “I didn’t think about time when I married you.”
Weston’s expression darkened, and he exhaled another puff of smoke.
“You should’ve learned your lesson by now,” he muttered. “But I suppose you’re still too naive to trust anyone so easily.”
She shook her head, her voice steady. “At least it won’t be as awful as marrying you.”
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