Sneaking Away from Him and His Show-Off Mistress Free Preview

Stella Johnson stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window, wrapped in a silk robe, staring out at the flickering city lights. After a long while, she took out her phone and made a call.

“I agree to the engagement.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by her father Grant Johnson’s voice, barely containing his excitement.

“Star, when are you coming back? I’ll come pick you up.”

It had been ages since anyone called her by that nickname, and Stella’s nose stung at the sound.

“Next Monday.”

She hung up immediately after.

After her mother died, that man had wasted no time bringing another woman and her daughter into their home.

She hated them. But the company her mother left behind could not fall into the hands of that mother-daughter duo so easily.

Back then, she had bent over backward for Shane Boston. But now? There was no need for games. She would take back what was hers in the most direct way.

The thought of Shane made her chest tighten again.

Earlier that evening, around 8:30, Stella had just brought the dinner she had made to the table.

At the same moment, Shane sent her a message.

“Something came up at the office. Don’t wait for me.”

She stared blankly at the screen.

Today was her 23rd birthday. It was also their fifth anniversary.

Starting at 6:00 p.m., she had been calling and messaging Shane. No one answered her calls. Out of every ten texts she sent, he replied to one.

“Busy.”

Her WhatsApp chat looked like a one-sided monologue.

“I ordered a tomahawk steak…”

“Got a bouquet of roses and lilies…”

“Your favorite wine—I picked it up from the vineyard this afternoon.”

“I lit the scented candles I made. Gardenia, your favorite. All ready for you tonight.”

...

For thirteen years straight, Shane had never missed her birthday.

Unwilling to give up, she tried calling him again, but it still went straight to voicemail.

She glanced at the timestamp on his last message, but just then, Wendy’s post notification popped up on my phone.

“Vinnie’s concert. Been waiting forever.”

Attached was a photo of a man and a woman, their arms pressed closely together.

Under the dim lights, the man’s diamond-studded cufflink was clearly visible. It bore the gardenia pattern she had custom-made for Shane.

It was his favorite flower, and that cufflink was one of a kind in all of Cloudtopia.

Stella clutched her phone tightly, zooming in and out on the image until her eyes ached. Finally, she threw the phone onto the table and gasped for breath.

She had bought tickets for Vinnie’s national tour the moment it was announced. She told him it was the gift she wanted most for her birthday.

Shane had promised to go with her—only to ghost her right before the show.

Now, on her birthday, he went with Wendy instead.

The pain in her chest spread through her entire body. She covered her face with her hands, unable to keep up the act any longer.

As a child, she was often ill. When she was ten, she moved from Capital City to Cloudtopia for treatment—and that’s when she met Shane.

Because of him, she never wanted to return, even after recovering.

The boy, two years older than her, had protected and pampered her all the way from middle school to college.

On her eighteenth birthday, he had confessed in a rush, eager to claim her as his own. He gave her the most beautiful flowers and swore he would love no one else for the rest of his life.

When did everything start to change?

Maybe it was the moment she introduced Wendy Sue to him—her arm linked with Wendy’s.

That fragile girl in the white dress smiled at him timidly, filled with shyness and inferiority.

“Mr. Shane, I’m the scholarship student Ms. Stella is sponsoring.”

Like a lily growing on a cliff’s edge—delicate, stubborn, and irresistible to a man’s desire to protect.

From that day on, whenever Shane had to choose between Stella and Wendy, nine times out of ten, he chose Wendy.

She had fought it.

But Shane always looked at her with a disappointed frown.

“Wendy’s not in good health. She’s nothing compared to you. Don’t bully her.”

So being sick made it okay to shamelessly steal someone’s boyfriend?

The phone buzzed continuously on the table.

Stella snatched it up.

Three messages popped up instantly.

“Vinnie’s violin really is world-class. Shane’s already arranged for me to meet him after the concert.”

“Today’s your birthday, right? I told Shane to go home to you, but he was worried I wouldn’t eat properly and insisted on staying. You kept calling, and he was so annoyed he had to turn his phone off.”

“This is Shane’s gift to me, Ms. Stella. Can you tell me if it matches my outfit?”

A dazzling rainbow diamond bracelet.

The newest launch from a certain luxury brand—preorders required.

She had once mentioned it to Shane when the promo first came out.

Turns out he had bought it just not for her.

Stella silently put down her phone, lit the candles, and ate her birthday dinner alone. Then she threw all the leftover food into the trash—including the cake she had spent half a month learning to make by hand.

The reason she was waiting until next week to leave was simple: thirteen years of entanglement with Shane didn’t just disappear overnight.

Emotionally and practically, they were inseparable.

Breaking away wouldn’t be easy.

She needed time.

Half-asleep, she felt someone sit down beside her.

A cool hand cupped her cheek and gave it a gentle squeeze. That familiar magnetic voice sounded just as indulgent as always.

“Star, sorry I’m late. Here’s your birthday gift—see if you like it?”

She woke with a frown and opened her eyes.

The man wore only a black dress shirt—his jacket was nowhere in sight.

In the soft light, his chiseled face looked even more charming, the tenderness in his expression almost dazzling.

Those eyes could drown a person.

She pushed herself upright and looked on as he opened the box and handed it to her.

Inside lay a rainbow diamond bracelet.

“You’ve always wanted one, haven’t you? Let me put it on you.”

Just as Shane reached for the bracelet, his phone rang.

He tossed the box onto the bed and stood up to answer it.

“You fell? Are you hurt? Don’t cry. I’m on my way.”

He was so flustered he didn’t even pause to explain.

“Shane…”

Stella called out softly, but the door shut firmly behind him.

He didn’t look back.

Minutes later, Wendy’s message arrived right on cue.

“Did you put on the bracelet? Ms. Stella, please accept it. I had to beg Shane to give it to you. He said I’m so thoughtful it hurts him, so after the concert, he went back and bought another one.”

“I love what this one symbolizes—being loved means you’ll be happy forever.”

Same brand. Their classic couple’s edition.

The year Shane founded his company, he took Stella to see that bracelet.

Back then, the company was strapped for cash. She had sold two of her mother’s heirloom ceramics to help him fund several projects.

She didn’t want him to bear the burden.

But once the company took off, Shane never brought it up again.

When the projects paid out, she had gone looking for those ceramics—only to find they had already been sold to a mysterious buyer at an exorbitant price.

There was no getting them back.

That night, Shane never returned.

The next morning, while she was eating breakfast, her phone buzzed again.

Another message from Wendy.

This time, there were no words—just a picture.

Shane was asleep, arms wrapped tightly around Wendy from behind, the two of them curled together in bed. He looked deeply asleep.

Wendy was smiling shyly, her lips swollen. Her pajama collar hung loosely, and love marks trailed down from her neck.

There was no need to ask what they’d been doing.

In five years together, she and Shane had never gone all the way.

At first, when things got heated, Shane would hold her tightly and growl through clenched teeth, “Star, can you hurry up and grow up already?”

Later, he no longer held her that way. He simply coaxed her, saying they’d wait until marriage.

She had always thought that was love. That it meant he cherished her.

But wasn’t desire just another side of love?

She stared at the photo, and tears burst from her eyes. It felt like someone had gouged a chunk of flesh straight from her chest, the pain surging uncontrollably.

After breakfast, Stella walked over to the neighboring villa.

Crossing the custom-built bridge between the houses, she looked down at the blooming garden beneath her feet—and felt only desolation.

She and Shane had bought these two villas in full after landing a massive deal.

The deed was under her name.

Shane had said everything he had belonged to her. What was wrong with putting her name on it?

He even hired a designer to build the connecting garden and bridge.

That way, if she ever got mad and “went back home,” she’d just go next door.

As long as he could see her when he looked up, he’d feel at peace.

Now, even though she was right in front of him every day, he hadn’t really looked at her in a long time.

She entered the code and pushed the door open. The spacious villa wasn’t decorated like a home, but like a gallery. Each cabinet displayed one of her mother’s cherished ceramic works.

These were rare pieces—nearly irreplaceable.

She had personally arranged every item in place, entrusting both herself and her future to Shane.

Now, she would pack them up with her own hands and reclaim that future.

Running her fingers across the glass door of one cabinet, she stopped at the largest display.

The items inside were clumsy and lopsided, far from exquisite.

Every year on her mother’s death anniversary, Shane would take her to make pottery by hand.

“Don’t be sad, Star. I’ll make your mom’s favorite things with you. She’ll know how much you miss her. She’ll know that you’ll be okay.”

Stella never inherited her mother’s talent.

When she first started, she couldn’t even mold a lump of clay properly.

Back then, Shane wasn’t a powerful man. He didn’t have money to throw around.

He would bow his head to the workshop owner, pleading on her behalf—just so she could immerse herself in the process and let her grief out through clay.

As her skills improved, Shane’s presence and patience gradually faded.

She opened the cabinet and pulled out the prettiest piece—a painted ceramic jar.

Two names were written on it in playful lettering, with a heart drawn in between. It looked childish.

Shane had held her hand while they wrote it, pressing a kiss to her ear in a moment of emotion.

His low, amused voice had whispered, “We’ve already signed the papers with your mom. You’re mine now, got it?”

Stella let out a bitter smile.

All the precious memories she had clung to were nothing but a joke now.

She loosened her grip. The jar fell to the floor and shattered completely.

All those colorful memories in her head... one by one, they popped and vanished like bubbles in the wind.

…

By the time she finished packing and loading everything into the truck, it was already past 4 p.m.

She called a real estate agent to come view the house, signed all the paperwork, finalized the price, and told him to list it next Monday.

With everything settled, she took a cab to a farm on the outskirts of town.

“You’re really leaving?”

Her aunt Helena looked regretful.

“You and Shane used to be like one soul in two bodies. I thought you two would make it to the end.”

Stella said nothing, lying silently on the rocking chair with her eyes closed.

In her ears, she could still hear the sound of Shane’s bicycle bell—followed by his cheerful shout.

“Star, we’re gonna be late! I brought you bread and milk. Hurry up!”

She yanked the memory from her mind and looked over at the middle-aged woman slicing fruit beside her.

“Auntie, do you regret leaving the Johnson family for that man back then?”

Helena paused briefly, then resumed cutting.

“I had your cousin.”

So… regret, or no regret?

Stella stared at her blankly but got no answer.

Years ago, Grant had forced Helena into a marriage alliance. Helena ran away with her ex. After that, Grant never treated her like a sister again. All he felt toward her was hate.

But just before giving birth, that man vanished.

Now her cousin was in college, and Helena was still waiting for the man she had given up everything for.

What exactly is love worth?

Helena washed her hands and gently held Stella’s wrist.

“If your father is pressuring you into this, you don’t have to go through with it…”

“No.” Stella shook her head. “Shane is seeing someone else.”

Her voice was soft, but the words lingered in the air like smoke.

Helena had nothing more to say.

Stella lay back in the chair.

“I’m not letting them move my mother’s urn out of the family cemetery!”

She always knew her dad was scum, but she didn’t expect he’d go this far.

He agreed with her stepmother’s proposal, saying her mother had been gone for years and, like Helena, should be treated as if she never existed. Her mother’s urn would no longer be allowed at the family's private cemetery.

Shameless. That b*tch thinks she can completely take my mom’s place? In every way and forever?

As she was leaving, Helena handed her a folder.

“Got it back for you. Check it.”

Stella didn’t open it until she got into the car.

Inside was a contract with a church for their wedding. Still unsigned.

In their second year of dating, she and Shane had agreed to get married after she turned 23.

Helena had just helped them visit a church and confirm the wedding date.

It turned out it was next Monday.

The very day she had decided to leave the Cloudtopia City for good.

What a cruel joke.

When she got back to the villa, the soft sound of violin music floated from the living room.

Wendy stood bathed in warm amber light near the massive floor-to-ceiling window. Shane sat on the couch with his long legs crossed, listening intently.

A perfect, tender picture of romantic harmony.

Stella walked straight in.

Wendy stopped playing the moment she saw her and greeted her with a bright, gentle smile.

“Stella, this is a piece Vinnie wrote just for me. Shane signed me up for an international competition, but I’m nervous. Could you listen and give me your thoughts?”

Stella looked at her pure, doll-like face.

At first, even she had been fooled by that delicate, innocent act.

She had lent her dresses, taught her to play violin.

She had downplayed her own skills and encouraged Wendy to enter school competitions, cheering her on every step of the way.

She had no idea that Wendy wanted more than just applause—she wanted Shane too.

In the silence, Wendy suddenly lowered her head in shy hesitation.

“Stella… are you mad that I moved in?”

Stella’s expression changed. She snapped her gaze toward Shane.

“She’s moving in?”

There was a flicker of discomfort in the man’s eyes.

“Star, Wendy’s apartment is being renovated. The fumes are too much—it’s bad for her health, so…”

Stella’s heart twisted painfully. She thought she was past caring.

But the suffocating ache still spread through every nerve.

“She can’t afford a hotel?”

Wendy’s eyes turned red as she packed up her violin.

“Please don’t fight because of me. I’ll leave right now.”

She scrambled for her luggage, bumping into the corner of the table. With a cry of pain, she clutched her chest, her breaths soft and sweetly seductive.

“Are you okay? How’d you get hurt? Where does it hurt? Did you bring your medicine?”

Shane swept her up into his arms, ready to carry her upstairs.

But upstairs, there were only two rooms—hers and Shane’s.

“This is my house. I don’t agree!”

Stella stepped in front of them, blocking the stairs.

The tension snapped taut in an instant.

Shane’s expression darkened.

“Stella, Wendy isn’t feeling well. If you’re going to throw a tantrum, at least pick your timing. And for the record—this villa was bought by me! Get that straight!”

A glint of triumph flashed through Wendy’s eyes. Weakly, she wrapped her arms around Shane’s neck, her lips nearly brushing his chin as she spoke.

“Shane, put me down. With my background, how could I possibly be worthy of living here?”

That familiar trigger to a man’s pride worked effortlessly—Shane pushed Stella aside.

“If I say you’re worthy, then you are.”

Stella’s leg slammed into the staircase railing, pain draining the color from her face.

Shane soothed Wendy gently without sparing her a glance.

Once he’d taken care of Wendy, Shane came back downstairs—but Stella was gone. She didn’t answer his calls either.

He didn’t think much of it.

In Cloudtopia, she only had two places to go—here, or Helena’s house in the suburbs.

She’d be back once she cooled off.

He turned to go upstairs but caught sight of a folder lying in the corner.

He suddenly remembered Stella mentioning picking a wedding date for her birthday. He bent down to pick it up.

After glancing at the date, he pulled out his phone and called his assistant, clearing his schedule for Monday morning.

Just as he hung up, a string of secondary card purchase notifications popped up.

Jewelry, clothes, handbags...

He opened WhatsApp and sent a message.

“Ten million limit. Spend it and come home. No staying out overnight.”

It was indulgent. Helplessly tolerant. Affectionate.

Stella had just signed a receipt when the message came in. Her chest felt hollow.

Since she was ten, Shane had always been the one managing her.

He just needed to say "No", and she’d obediently stop anything she wanna do.

But the same man who used to say he’d stay with her forever was now in the bedroom they had planned to share on their wedding night—with another woman in his arms.

“Don’t,” huh?

This time, she didn’t feel like listening.

She was done shopping. With no interest in continuing, Stella carried her bags to Cloudtopia’s most luxurious seven-star hotel and booked the presidential suite on the top floor.

She ordered the most expensive red wine and steak on the menu.

After a long, relaxing soak in the tub, she stood at the window with a glass of wine, gazing at the city lights.

She’d once thought she’d never leave this city.

But life had other plans.

After two glasses, she pulled out her phone and sent a message.

“Tomorrow at ten. Eastside Café. Bring the money. I’ll sign.”

The reply came quickly.

“It’s a deal!”

Unity Corp was the company she and Shane had built together. It was a subsidiary of Boston Corp. When they first started the group, Shane had given her ten percent in founding shares.

Like the twin villas, it was meant to be her safety net.

That way, they’d always be bound together.

She had been overjoyed back then. Touched by his devotion, she’d linked her dividend account directly to the company’s finance team. All these years, she hadn’t taken a single cent—everything had gone back into the company.

But if they were going to part ways, then she’d make it clean.

Right before bed, Shane sent another WhatsApp message.

“I called the hotel. Extended your stay till Monday. Star, don’t stay mad. I’ll pick you up Monday for the marriage registration.”

Stella searched through her clothes and, sure enough, the folder was gone.

She stared at the message for a long time.

Shane had brought Wendy into their home with his own arms, but arranged her hotel bill like it was no big deal—then casually brought up getting their marriage certificate.

What a joke.

What made him think she’d still marry him after everything?

…

At 11:30 that night, Stella was woken by a sharp pain.

It felt like her stomach was being seared from the inside out.

Back when Shane was starting his business, she’d once run through four different banquets in a single day to secure a project and a round of funding.

All she wanted back then was to help Shane show off in front of the Boston family, who looked down on him.

That night, she’d landed in the hospital with a stomach ulcer and took half a year to recover. Since then, Shane never let her participate in business again. He told her to stay home and be his future wife.

The pain scrambled her thoughts. She sat up, trembling, and pulled open the nightstand drawer—only to find nothing.

Only then did she remember: this was a hotel, not their home.

There was no stash of antacids waiting for her.

The waves of pain curled her up like a shrimp, her pale forehead covered in cold sweat.

She thought it would pass if she waited—but ten minutes in, the agony still hadn’t let up.

She couldn’t wait any longer.

Hands shaking, she reached for her phone, about to dial 911.

Just then, Shane’s name lit up the screen.

People are most vulnerable when they’re in pain and alone.

Seeing that familiar number, Stella’s nose stung with the weight of everything she’d been holding back.

She answered, raising the phone to her ear—only to hear his voice already scolding, low and simmering with rage.

“Stella, do you hate Wendy that much? She’s your best friend.”

Each word rang like a gong in her head, leaving her blank.

She clutched her abdomen tightly, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

“What happened to her?”

Her voice was soft, barely audible—anyone paying attention would have known something was wrong.

But Shane didn’t notice. Her question only ignited his fury.

“How can you even ask that? Stella, when did you become like this? You knew Wendy has asthma, but you sprayed disinfectant all over the house and put aroma diffusers in the bathroom. Do you have any idea she almost suffocated?”

Stella bit her pale lip until it bled.

A bitter, painful smile ghosted across her face.

The disinfectant was to wipe away her presence.

The diffuser—meant to help Shane sleep—was something she had begged many people to find the perfect formula for.

“Shane, I’m not a psychic. I didn’t know you were going to move Wendy in.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

His breathing was heavy—frustrated, angry.

Another wave of pain ripped through her. Stella couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped.

The phone slipped from her hand.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Shane… my stomach hurts. Can you…”

She didn’t get to finish.

Shane cut her off, his voice tired and impatient.

“Go drink some water. Wendy’s still not awake—I can’t leave her. Star, be good. I’m tired. Stop throwing a fit over nothing, okay?”

Then the line went dead.

The flat, repeating tone stabbed at Stella’s eyes until they stung with tears.

Back when she had a stomach ulcer and woke up after surgery, Shane had cried while holding her.

He knelt at her bedside—this tall man, like a lost, oversized dog—burying his face in her neck, his voice hoarse.

“Star, I’m hurting. Every second you were in that operating room, it felt like someone was carving out my chest. Don’t you know? You’re my everything!”

That same man who once said losing her would tear him apart—was now telling her not to use illness as an excuse to be dramatic.

After disappointment came numbness.

Clenching her teeth, she endured the pain and called for an ambulance.

By the time she was helped out of it, she was barely conscious.

In the haze, she heard a familiar voice.

“Wendy, are you cold? Wrap your arms around my neck.”

She turned her head with effort.

Between the shifting nurses and doctors, she caught a glimpse of Shane in a black shirt, striding quickly.

Wendy wore a gray blanket draped over her shoulders, her arms looped around his neck. She rubbed her cheek against his chin, saying something soft. Shane looked down and smiled at her.

Tender. Indulgent.

The chaos of the ER melted away—his world was full of Wendy.

Stella watched him help Wendy into the car. She watched the familiar Cayenne vanish down the driveway.

On the freezing examination table, her sweat-soaked clothes clung to her skin, chilling her to the bone.

She accepted the treatment without a word. When the nasogastric tube slid down her throat, she gagged and dry-heaved until tears streamed down her face.

By 1:30 a.m., she was moved to a temporary ward and hooked up to an IV.

A nurse organizing the bed beside her chatted with another.

“You know who that couple in the ER was?”

“No. The guy was really good-looking.”

“More than good-looking—that was the CEO of the Boston Corp.”

“No way? The billionaire Boston Corp CEO? I just saw him wiping that woman’s hands and face like she was a child—so gentle, so doting. I’m jealous.”

“They say rich men are all players, but maybe that’s just because they haven’t met the right one. I heard the hospital director moved them to the VIP ward. The woman had an asthma attack and had to go on oxygen. The CEO was so worried he nearly cried.”

“She was in pajamas—must be his fiancée.”

…

Stella pulled the thin hospital blanket tighter around herself, but the chill remained.

The young nurse checked the IV and gently said, “Ma’am, you should call someone. You need someone to care for you in this condition.”

Stella forced a weak smile.

“He’s busy. He doesn’t have time.”

The nurse said nothing else and quietly left. Her voice echoed down the corridor.

“Same people, different lives. One has a stomach ulcer and no one shows up. The other gets the whole hospital mobilized for an asthma attack…”

Stella slowly closed her eyes.

That night, she slept deeply.

When she woke, daylight was already pouring in.

Remembering her meeting, she grabbed her phone.

There were a dozen unread WhatsApp messages—from Wendy.

“Thank goodness for Ms. Stella’s disinfectant. Shane’s bed is huge. So soft.”

“Ms. Stella’s pajamas were a little tight. You should eat more. Shane loves grabbing my chest when he’s holding me.”

“Three in the morning. Bet Ms. Stella never thought I’d be the first to sleep in Shane’s bed, huh?”

“Shane made me chicken soup. He searched everywhere for the recipe. So touching.”

The last message was a photo.

Shane’s underwear tangled on the floor with a crumpled pair of pink women’s panties.

Stella hated pink. She’d never bought anything in that color.

They went to bed after returning from the hospital.

How passionate.

Pain pricked her heart again.

Fighting nausea, she took a screenshot and saved it.

Her stomach felt sour and empty—but the pain was gone.

When she stood up, her legs were still shaky.

She braced against the wall and made her way to the nurses’ station to insist on checking out.

She didn’t have time to rest.

As soon as she got in a cab, Shane called.

“Come out of the hotel. I’m sending Cheng Zhou to pick you up.”

The entitled tone, like no matter what happened, Stella would always be waiting at his beck and call.

She leaned back in the seat, her face as pale as a ghost.

“I’m not at the hotel.”

“You went out? Shopping again?” His tone turned impatient. “Don’t go out today. Go home. You know Wendy best. Take care of her for a day—I don’t trust the maids.”

Stella nearly laughed.

Just minutes ago, she’d thought maybe Shane was calling to ask if she needed a checkup.

She actually thought he was worried about her stomach.

When she didn’t respond, Shane softened his tone.

“Star, I know you’re mad about last night, and about me letting Wendy move in. But I already explained. You two are so close—don’t let this ruin it. Use this time to talk things through.”

Still, Stella said nothing.

For the first time, she realized how shameless Shane could be.

“Wendy’s in the hospital, and that’s your responsibility too. Be good. Listen.”

That line again—“Listen.”

She hung up without a word.

A WhatsApp message came in right after.

“Doctor said to eat light. I threw out the aroma diffuser. Find the rest and get rid of them too.”

She wanted to ask—how many of those medical notes he once wrote in his little notebook after her surgery did he still remember?

But now, it didn’t matter.

She bought a new outfit at a mall near the café, touched up her makeup in the restroom to hide how haggard she looked, and arrived right on time.

Grayson Quinn was already waiting in the private room.

Sharp features. A piercing, probing gaze.

“You really want to sell?”

Stella sank into the couch across from him, eyes cold and composed.

“Mr. Grayson, your ambitions have nothing to do with me. I have one condition: you can’t attend the shareholder meeting next Monday. Wait a week. If you agree, I’ll sign now.”

Some traps need to go off one by one. All at once would be boring.

Grayson tapped his fingers on the table.

“You and Shane are done?”

In Cloudtopia’s business circles, anyone who worked with Unity Corp knew—Stella loved Shane with everything she had.

She sat up slightly, her gaze sharp.

“Mr. Grayson, the shares I hold are rightfully mine. Taking back what belongs to me is fair and square. But if you’re hoping I’ll leak Unity Corp’s secrets, forget it. I’m not selling anymore.”

Founding shares didn’t mean robbing Unity Corp blind.

The final winner would depend on skill.

Grayson didn’t press further. He pulled out the contract, signed it, and transferred the money.

Once she confirmed the funds, Stella stood and left.

As Stella turned to leave, Grayson suddenly called out, “Ms. Stella, would you consider coming to Quinn Corp? I could offer you—”

Before he could finish, her refusal rang out clear and cold.

“No.”

Grayson watched her slender figure walk away, something flickering in his eyes.

A trace of admiration. A stir of something deeper.

…

Another task ticked off the memo.

Stella rested at the hotel for half a day before returning to the twin villa.

The garden was a mess.

Wendy, wearing her clothes and draped in a luxurious wool shawl, was directing the servants like the lady of the house, telling them to uproot every flower Stella had painstakingly grown.

Seeing her arrive, a glint of satisfaction flashed through Wendy’s eyes.

She hadn’t even gotten the chance to send a taunting video—Stella had come back on her own.

Perfect.

With a sweet smile, she waved cheerfully.

“Stella, what a surprise! Shane said you’d be staying at the hotel the next few days and told me to make myself at home.”

She covered her mouth and coughed lightly.

“My bad. I’m allergic to pollen. Shane was up all night taking care of me. Stella, you’re not mad, are you?”

Stella’s gaze landed on the wilting flowers.

After she left Unity Corp, Shane, afraid she’d get bored, had filled the garden with rare flower species for her to tend.

Some had taken months of care just to bloom.

The day one of the rarest finally blossomed, she’d sent Shane a photo and told him she wanted to use it in her wedding bouquet.

Now they were nothing but ruined stems and mud.

“Good job. Keep digging.”

She withdrew her gaze and headed upstairs.

Wendy’s expression faltered.

She had braced herself for a dramatic outburst—but Stella remained calm.

Inside the bedroom, Stella took in the room she had lived in for years. It felt so empty.

Even though she and Shane had always had separate rooms, everything in hers came in pairs.

Toothbrushes, towels, stuffed animals, pajamas, pillows…

She grabbed a large black trash bag and began clearing it all out.

Five full trips to the bins. The servants were too busy in the garden to notice.

On her last trip back, Shane’s car pulled into the driveway.

He rushed through the door and headed straight upstairs—he didn’t even see her.

As she passed his room, she heard Wendy crying inside.

“Shane, maybe I should move out. Those flowers… cough cough…”

“Silly girl. They’re just flowers. We can plant more later. Your health matters most. Don’t cry—look at you, a teary little kitten.”

His voice was soft, coaxing. Every word twisted in her chest like a knife.

Stella returned to her room and packed up the last of her belongings.

Just as she zipped the suitcase, the door opened.

“Star, you…”

Shane saw the empty cabinets and panicked.

“Where are your things?”

Stella turned to him, eyes cool, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“They were old. I wanted new ones. Is that a problem?”

He froze.

Something felt off.

But he’d already agreed—they would get married next week. Everything would change after that.

Buying new items seemed normal.

And since she’d come home as he asked to take care of Wendy, clearly she wasn’t mad anymore.

He brushed aside his unease and walked over, ruffling her hair as he always did.

“I know you’re upset. Just shop for a bit, distract yourself. I asked Cheng Zhou to find Wendy a new place. She’ll move out next Monday. Once she does, everything in my room will be what you pick. Sound good?”

Stella exhaled a long sigh in her mind.

Her voice was unnaturally calm.

“Shane, after we get married… are you still going to take care of Wendy like this?”

Hearing her mention marriage made Shane relax.

He crouched down so they were eye to eye, his deep gaze warm and amused.

“No being jealous. No tantrums. Be good.”

“Okay.”

She nodded.

She wouldn’t be jealous. She wouldn’t cause trouble.

She wouldn’t care anymore.

Stella hadn’t even made it back to the hotel when a call from the old Boston estate caught her off guard.

The patriarch wanted Shane and Stella to attend a family dinner.

Ever since founding Unity Corp, Shane’s standing in the Boston family had skyrocketed.

Henry, who once refused to acknowledge him, now spoke of him with glowing praise, calling him his most outstanding son.

But every family gathering was a trap for Stella.

The Boston family didn’t know her true identity—they saw her as a pitiful orphan no one wanted.

“Shane, I’m a little nervous… What if your grandfather and parents don’t like me?”

In the passenger seat, Wendy looked shyly at Shane as he drove.

He never brought an assistant to family events.

Instead of answering her, he glanced at Stella through the rearview mirror. She had insisted on sitting in the back.

Still throwing a tantrum, clearly.

Just because he was bringing Wendy to the Boston estate?

Was she expecting them to leave Wendy home alone?

Wendy was a patient, after all.

The car was quiet and awkward.

Wendy, unfazed, kept turning around to talk to Stella. When she got no reply, she pouted and clung to Shane for comfort.

Stella couldn’t be bothered. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

The forty-minute ride passed in a daze. She was still groggy when she got out.

“If you didn’t want to come, you could’ve told me. This is the Boston family—don’t make a scene.”

His voice was low, reproachful. She looked up and saw thinly veiled annoyance in Shane’s eyes.

Ever since she stepped back from the spotlight, Shane rarely brought her to public events.

She’d thought he was protecting her.

She never considered that maybe he was… ashamed of her background.

“Mr. Shane is back. And this is…”

The butler welcomed them politely but glanced between Stella and Wendy with an odd expression.

“Hello, I’m Shane’s friend. Sorry to intrude.”

Wendy greeted sweetly and slipped her arm around Shane’s to show closeness.

The butler understood instantly.

He gave Stella a sympathetic look and gestured for them to enter.

“The master and young master are waiting in the study. The lady is in the living room.”

Staring at the grand estate, Wendy’s eyes glistened with excitement.

One day, all of this would be hers.

“Stella, let’s go in. We shouldn’t keep Grandpa and Shane’s parents waiting.”

She tugged Shane inside without a hint of the nervousness she’d shown in the car.

Stella watched them walk ahead, side by side, and nearly turned to leave.

But there were still things she hadn’t settled. It wasn’t time to confront Shane yet.

Besides, Mr. Gordon had always been kind to her.

He hadn’t been well lately. She didn’t want to cause a scene at the estate.

She took a moment to compose herself and walked in a few minutes later.

Just as she stepped into the entry hall, she heard Mary’s cold laugh.

“Shane really is something. It’s one thing to bring some orphan girl around. Now he’s bringing in strays like it’s a damn shelter?”