“Weston! Let go of Ella!” Justin’s voice was filled with fury, and as a man, he naturally understood what Weston was likely thinking. Given the situation, he knew that Weston would most likely do something terrible to Stella.
At this moment, Justin’s face was clouded with anger. His eyes caught the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall, and without a second thought, he grabbed it and swung it against the door with all his might. The deafening crash echoed through the corridor, causing a stir.
One of the waiters rushed over, alarmed by the noise. “Hello, sir. Are you having problems? Please calm down; there are still guests in the private rooms…” she said, trying to defuse the situation.
“Go away!” Justin snapped, shoving her aside. He continued to slam the fire extinguisher against the door, each blow driving him closer to losing control. The impact sent the waitress stumbling backward into the wall before she collapsed onto the floor.
She quickly pulled out her walkie-talkie, her voice shaky as she spoke into it. “Manager, there’s a guest causing a ruckus. Call security!”
Inside the room, Weston remained as composed as ever, unaffected by the chaos outside. He didn’t seem to care about the loud commotion that filled the hallway. With his hand gripping Stella’s chin, he leaned in close, his voice a low whisper in her ear. “Tell him to go away. Or do you want everyone to see you in this condition?”
Stella was lying weakly on the floor, her clothes in disarray, her eyes lifeless. It seemed like nothing could surprise her anymore. She had long since given up on hope.
Weston’s grip on her chin tightened, his voice hardening. “Say something.”
Instead of responding, Stella slowly turned her head to face him. Her eyes, clouded with sadness, looked almost hollow—like two glass beads reflecting her misery. Suddenly, without warning, she began to laugh, her expression turning into one of bitter defiance. Her laughter was raw, a strange mix of sorrow and fury. She glared at him, and then, to his shock, she started ripping her clothes off.
Weston froze, stunned by her sudden outburst. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice sharp with confusion and anger.
“Don’t you want everyone to see me like this?” Stella chuckled, her voice breaking with emotion, as tears welled up in her eyes. “Don’t you want everyone to believe I’m your secret lover? Don’t you want to destroy my dignity completely? You want to watch me fall, don’t you? I’m just doing what you desire.”
As she spoke, she tossed her clothes onto the floor, her actions frantic. But she didn’t stop there. Her hands moved to tear her skirt, and with each action, her sense of despair seemed to deepen.
Weston’s expression darkened, his eyes cold with anger and fear. He grabbed her wrist tightly, stopping her. “What are you doing?!” His voice was a warning, but she didn’t listen.
“Isn’t this what you want?” she spat, her laughter laced with bitterness. “Let everyone see how I shamelessly please you!”
She seemed completely unhinged, as though she had lost her sanity, and Weston knew that it was all his fault. His heart twisted in discomfort, and his hands tightened in a mix of frustration and helplessness.
He shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the sight of her deteriorating further. The door was about to break open any second, and he knew that once it did, all would be lost. He gritted his teeth, his voice coming out in a growl. “Put on your clothes.”
But Stella didn’t move. She just stared at him, her eyes void of emotion. The seconds seemed to stretch on forever, and Weston could feel the weight of impending disaster. Once the door opened, everyone would see her like this—exposed, vulnerable. She would become the subject of rumors, the target of ridicule, and there would be no escaping it.
As for Weston, people would only say that he was too charming and that none of this was his fault. But he knew, deep down, that none of that mattered. What mattered was Stella—her dignity, her future. He couldn’t let her suffer like this.
Without thinking, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, his voice softer now. “Wear it.”
Stella was about to resist, to push him away, but before she could, Weston pulled her into his embrace, holding her tightly. “Stop moving!” he commanded in a low, firm whisper, his grip on her back unyielding.
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