Chapter 3 Not as Planned.
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!”
all me all in!
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.
1/4
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. 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.
2/4
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.
The
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.
3/4
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.
