"Stella!"

For the first time, Charles lost control of his temper.

He always knew this woman had a mean streak, but he didn't expect her to go this far.

"That's your own daughter! Are you seriously cursing your own kid? Are you out of your mind?"

He didn't even want to argue anymore, too tired to drag this mess out in front of their child.

With a cold look, he turned and headed upstairs. Just as he passed by Stella, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

The moment he answered, the harshness in his expression melted away.

"Isabelle, what's wrong?"

A gentle female voice came through the phone, soft with nervousness and guilt.

"Charles, did you make it back to Riviera Court? I'm really sorry... Olivia woke up and started crying when she didn't see you..."

"Daddy, I want your scrambled eggs-you said you'd make them for me"

The little girl's sweet, clingy voice flowed through the air, warm and happy like syrup, dragging the already cold and silent house into deeper stillness. Every word was like a blade across Stella's heart.

"Olivia, be good. Daddy promised to stay with Sophie today. Mommy will make you pancakes, okay?" Isabelle coaxed gently.

The girl stopped pleading, quietly muttering an "okay," her voice full of disappointment.

Charles tossed a look-cold and distant-at Stella's grim face, but his voice on the phone was soft enough to melt.

"If Olivia wants it, she's getting it. I'm on my way."

He didn't even glance back as he hung up and strode downstairs.

Soon, a car horn blared from the yard. He'd left in such a rush, he didn't even grab his coat.

All that... just to make scrambled eggs for Olivia.

Stella clutched her chest, pain surging so sharply she could barely breathe.

This kind of fatherly warmth? Her daughter had never gotten even a taste of it.

Ever since Isabelle came back with Olivia, Charles barely even spoke to Sophie.

But Sophie was his daughter too. His real daughter.

She staggered toward the kitchen, shaky but determined. She still had too much to do-she couldn't collapse.

She made herself some honey water. Just as she finished drinking it, a knock came from the door. A staff member was standing there, holding a few medical reports.

"Ma'am, Mr. Hart left these in his coat. Please keep them safe."

Stella wasn't planning to take them-until she caught a glimpse of the bolded words on the paper.

"...Not suitable for bone marrow donation..."

She snatched the papers, flipping through them fast.

Seconds later, with the staff still staring in confusion, she bolted out of the room like someone possessed.

...

Transplant Department, Heartland Hospital.

Charles carried Olivia, fresh out of her check-up, into the VIP ward.

"The date's set. Don't worry. The international specialists will be here right on time. Everything will be fine."

Once Olivia was settled, Isabelle clutched his wrist, her face full of worry.

"Charles, the surgery will hurt you too. If there was any other way, Olivia and I... we wouldn't have pushed for this..."

Her voice trembled, tears slipping down her face, her fragile look tugging at his heart.

Charles handed her a tissue.

"Olivia's my kid. Giving up just a small piece of liver? That's nothing. If sacrificing the whole thing could save her, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Olivia threw her arms around him.

"Daddy, the doctor said after the surgery, we'll be connected forever, right? We'll always be together?"

"Yes, sweetheart. We'll never be apart," Charles said, ruffling her hair with a doting smile. "You two rest now. I'll head to the pharmacy and be right back to take you home."

Isabelle followed him to the door.

Once it closed, she lowered her voice.

"Charles... you've been taking all those anti-rejection meds for Olivia's transplant. Will it mess with your ability to donate bone marrow to Sophie? Stella might get mad, right?"

Just thinking about Stella's cold face and snark back at Riviera Court made Charles scowl.

Throwing a tantrum over a piano class? Clearly, Sophie's health isn't nearly as bad as Stella makes it out to be.

Probably just another one of her tricks to get him to care again."She can wait. Olivia can't. I'll handle the rest after the surgery."

Barely had he left when Stella stormed out from the stairs, pushing straight into the attending doctor's office like a gust of wind.

"Who are you? You can't just barge in here."

Slamming the test report on the desk, Stella stared at him, eyes bloodshot, voice trembling with anger.

"Is Olivia's condition really that urgent?"

The doctor blinked, a little thrown off.

He had just examined the child-no signs of the liver damage spreading, everything well under control.

Brows furrowing, he picked up the report from the desk, flipping through it.

"Who are you to the patient? How do you have Mr. Hart's medical test results?"

Holding back the storm raging inside her, Stella tried to keep her cool.

"Old Mrs. Hart sent me to ask."

Ah. That made sense.

The doctor didn't press further.

"Tell her not to worry. Mr. Hart is only donating a small portion of his liver-won't cause him any lasting harm. As for Miss Olivia, the damage is stable, has been for a while. He just can't stand seeing her on meds and getting poked with needles, that's why he wants the surgery done fast. He even flew in a top specialist from overseas-the procedure's practically guaranteed."

Stella's body started shaking. She could barely stay upright, fingers digging into the desk for balance.

"So... you're saying Olivia won't die even if the surgery gets delayed?"

"Of course not."

The doctor's words crushed whatever hope was left in her.

That man-he chose easing Olivia's discomfort over saving Sophie's life.

When she first saw the test report, she assumed Olivia was dying too.

Two children's lives on the line. A beloved ex and a wife he could barely stand. She thought maybe it was because of how unloved she was, that he gave up on Sophie.

But reality hit even harder.

Charles never planned to save their daughter.

Stella wandered dazed through the hospital corridor, a ghost drifting in daylight. She turned a corner and collided with someone.

"Sorry."

She apologized instinctively, reaching out to help, but her legs gave in, and she stumbled, accidentally brushing the woman's neck.

"Stella! What are you doing?!"

The startled, shrieking voice snapped Stella back to reality.

She blinked, and there they were-Isabelle pulling up Olivia protectively, glaring at her like she was some kind of threat.

They looked so alive... so vivid.

But all Stella could think of was her little girl lying cold under that sterile, white sheet in the operating room.

Rage. Hate. Despair. It all came flooding in.

Her nerves had been stretched so damn thin, they were about to snap.

Suddenly, Olivia burst out crying.

"Mommy, Auntie Stella tried to choke me! She's scary! She tried to hurt me!"

A strange gleam flickered in Isabelle's eyes as she shoved Olivia behind her, dropping to her knees with a dramatic thud.

"Stella, we had no choice coming back. I don't want my daughter to die. Please, I'd never dream of interfering with you and Charles. I beg you-just let us be, okay?"

"Stella!"

The angry shout from behind slammed into her like a brick.

Her thoughts, all muddled and out of focus, cleared up in an instant.

She watched him storm past her without a second glance-straight to Isabelle.

Charles lifted her up with care, rocking the crying Olivia in his arms, gently patting her back like she was the most precious thing.

It was the same damn scene all over again.

To him, Stella and Sophie had never belonged in his world.

No matter how obvious the scheme, how badly acted the pitiful stunts, Charles always chose to trust and protect Isabelle and her daughter.

"Daddy, Aunt Stella tried to kill me. Is it 'cause I took you away from Sophie today?"

The girl draped herself around Charles's neck, whimpering her complaint.

Isabelle, of course, was sobbing quietly beside them.

"Stella, if you're angry, be mad at me. Just... don't hurt my child. Please."

Stella's eyes turned icy.

"Fine. Then let's trade-my daughter's life for yours."

She lunged forward and grabbed Isabelle's neck with all the strength she had.

Before she could really do anything, though, Charles yanked her wrist and threw her aside hard. She stumbled back, smashing straight into the wall. Blood immediately started trickling down from her forehead.

Charles froze. He looked like he was about to step forward, but Isabelle threw herself into his arms first, trembling like a leaf and clutching her neck.

"Charles... I thought I was gonna die..."

Olivia was crying hysterically too, arms wrapped around Charles's neck like she couldn't breathe.

Charles's face darkened. His voice was low and heavy. "Stella, stop pretending."

The pain and dizziness were almost unbearable. It took Stella a few tries just to stand up.

Blood streamed down her pale forehead, dripping onto her eyelashes. She forced her eyes open and stared at the man in front of her-arms around one woman, holding another in his embrace.

Four years of secretly loving him. Six years of being his wife. One moment of death, one moment of injury.

And this... this was what she got from the man she gave everything to.

A wave of bitterness surged in her chest. Fueled by grief and rage, she stepped forward, stopping right in front of him. Then, without hesitation, she slapped him across the face.

"Smack!"

The sharp sound echoed. His face twisted with the force, and an angry red handprint bloomed on his cheek.

She hadn't held back.

"Charles, I'm divorcing you."

The intensity in her voice stunned everyone into silence.

She turned around and staggered out, her slim figure hunched, clothes wrinkled, hair messy, and hands still shaking.

Disheveled, but proud.

Behind her came a cold, mocking snort.

Stella didn't need to look back. She knew Charles wouldn't believe she'd really go through with it.

In his mind, the woman who drugged her way into his bed wouldn't willingly give up the wealth and status she'd gotten.

That's always how he saw her.

She'd spent six years defending herself-saying it wasn't her who drugged him back then.

He never believed a word of it.

Charles bit the inside of his cheek, eyes locked on her retreating back. His gaze burned, unreadable-dangerous.

That slap-Stella, how dare you?

-

The day before his surgery, Charles returned to Riviera Court one last time.

Considering he'd be recovering in the hospital afterward, he figured he wouldn't be home for at least a week.

After a shower and a change of clothes, he decided to give Stella a chance to talk things through.

But no matter where he looked, there was no sign of her in the villa.

Even all of Sophie's stuff was gone.

Damn woman. She actually ran off with the kid!

Annoyed, he pulled out his phone and opened his chat with Stella.

The last message was from a few days ago.

"Where are you? Please come to the hospital. Sophie really needs you."

His assistant said that the day she took Sophie to piano class, the kid seemed totally fine.

He should've known. Stella was still the same-manipulative, calculating. Even her own daughter's health wasn't off-limits if it meant getting what she wanted.

Disgust filled him, yet his mind kept flicking back to the image of her bloodied forehead.

Irritated, he typed out four short words: "Get back home. Now."

The moment he hit send, his screen lit up with a bright red exclamation mark.

She'd blocked him.

For a second, Charles could only laugh grimly.

For six whole years, Stella'd played the obedient wife. And now? She finally lost it, acting just like that defiant girl she used to be.

Meanwhile, Stella had already returned to the old Johnson family house.Back when Stella's family went bankrupt and her parents died in an accident, it was Old Mrs. Hart who stepped in-paid off their debts and took Stella into the Hart household. On her eighteenth birthday, she even bought back the Johnson family home as a gift.

But Stella had never dared return here-until now.

Standing once more in the worn-out living room, she stared at the small memorial shelf where her parents' framed photos stood, with Sophie's urn placed gently beneath them. Her mind was torn between gratitude toward the Harts and the bitter hatred she still felt for Charles.

A part of her just wanted to end it all.

A sharp screech of tires cut through the silence of the courtyard, making her flinch.

Her mind instantly flashed back to when she was fourteen. Back then, debt collectors had trapped her in the same spot.

"Kid, your family messed with the wrong people. If you don't step out, don't blame me for selling you off to the black market."

Terrified like a hunted animal, she didn't think much about it at the time. But now she wondered-was there more to the Johnson bankruptcy?

She turned and bolted toward the sound.

But instead of the thugs from her past, it was Charles standing in the yard.

The blur between past and present made her head spin.

Charles was already striding toward her, voice laced with sarcasm and a chill that could bite.

"Wow, Stella. You really had the guts to show up here?"

That all-too-familiar scent on him-it wasn't just his own. Some other woman's perfume clung faintly to his clothes.

Stella stepped back, took a breath to steady herself, and locked eyes with him.

Those eyes of his-calm, unreadable.

"Got the divorce papers ready? Or should I go ahead and file myself?"

His gaze flicked to the dried blood on her forehead.

Two days, and she hadn't even treated the wound. What, trying to look pitiful?

Irritated, he looked away.

"You walk out of this marriage, don't expect a single cent."

"Fine."

Her answer came without hesitation, stunning Charles into silence. His narrow eyes darkened as he stared at her.

She pointed toward the house behind her.

"This place? It was a gift from your grandma when I turned eighteen. The deed's in my name. I'll pay her back every cent she spent-but it's mine. Not yours. You've got no say."

Charles was thrown-what had gotten into her? Still, he couldn't be bothered to argue. He brushed past her and walked into the house.

"Hold on," Stella called, hurrying after him.

But her legs were no match for his stride. By the time she caught up, he was already on the couch in the living room, flipping a box open as he waved it off.

"Bought this for Sophie-for her competition. Thought I'd come give it to her myself."

He waited, fully expecting to hear little footsteps thudding down the stairs.

Sophie always lit up when he brought her things. She'd clutch the gifts with a shy smile and whisper, "Thank you, Daddy."

Sure, she wasn't as sweet-talking as Olivia, but setting Stella aside-he didn't hate the kid.

But upstairs stayed quiet-dead quiet.

"Where is she?"

He turned, confused, looking at Stella.

She'd walked in and was staring at the gift box, eyes instantly welling up.

Inside was a white chiffon dress, dotted with sparkling rhinestones, and on top, a delicate little princess tiara.

It was the same outfit Olivia had worn at her birthday party.

Now here he was, saying it was for Sophie. What a sick joke.

"I asked you-where's Sophie?"

His patience snapped, and he stepped toward the stairs.

"She's gone."

Stella spoke coldly, "You're never seeing her again. Take your stuff and get out."

Charles froze for a second, the corners of his thin lips curving into a mocking smile.

"Stella, you walked out with nothing but took Sophie with you. Trying to use our kid to squeeze money out of me? That's pathetic, don't you think?"

The urn with their daughter's ashes was just upstairs. Stella couldn't bear to let her daughter hear her beloved dad talking so heartlessly.

She grabbed the gift box on the table and flung it at him. "I told you to get out! Are you deaf or just dumb?"

Charles's expression turned dark.

The light tulle dress she threw landed in the rain-soaked ground, now dirty and ruined.

The tiara he'd designed himself shattered into pieces, diamonds scattered across the cracked floor tiles.

His self-control was hanging by a thread.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

He glanced at it, answered, and deliberately hit speaker.

"Mr. Hart, the piano you ordered has arrived. We're ready to deliver. Is the address still Riviera Court?"

Charles stared at Stella, his voice icy and deliberate.

"Change it. Send it to 8 Rosehill Villa. Receiver: Olivia."

Then he hung up.

He wanted Stella to know-he could be generous, or he could take everything back in a heartbeat.

He could act like Sophie never existed, or he alone could decide her place in his life.

Isn't this what she wanted? Walking away with no money, using Sophie as a bargaining chip?

Fine. He'd love to see how she'd end up.

Stella didn't flinch. Her face was pale as a ghost, dried blood caked across her forehead, making her look terrifying and worn.

She lifted her hand and calmly pointed to the door.

"Now will you leave?"

Something clenched hard inside Charles's chest. Emotions twisted up inside, too tangled to bother sorting out.

His jaw was tight, fury in his tone. "Stella, tell your daughter never to call me again. I never want to hear from her."

That hit Stella like a slap.

Her Sophie was already gone-but now, even her soul had to hear her dad say she was unwanted.

Stella suddenly went wild, her eyes darting around like a caged animal. She grabbed a dusty broom from the corner and swung it straight at him.

"Get out of my house, you bastard! Step in here again and I swear I'll kill you!"

She hadn't eaten in days, barely slept, surviving on a few sips of honey water, and now all her strength was gone. After a few weak swings, she collapsed.

Charles just stood there for a moment.

What popped into his head wasn't anger, though-it was the day Old Mrs. Hart had first brought Stella back to the Hart family home.

That wasn't the first time he met her.Back when he used to attend business banquets with his father, he'd seen this spoiled little princess before-bright as the sun, bold and untamed.

But when he saw Stella again, just like today, she was gripping a broom and charging at him like a prickly little hedgehog-miserable but stubborn as ever.

That dazzling sun had dulled, yet it still sparked guilt and an urge to protect her within him.

But the woman he pitied had drugged him. On the night he brought Isabelle home and was planning to get engaged, Stella climbed into his bed and got caught red-handed by the whole Hart family.

If that hadn't happened... maybe Olivia wouldn't have gone into early labor. Maybe they all wouldn't have ended up suffering so much.

He kicked the broom hitting his ankle away in anger.

"Stella, using the same trick again? It won't work. You gave birth to Sophie, but you still let her see you stoop to this kind of crap-aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

With that, he stormed off.

His car engine had been running for a while, but he hadn't stepped on the gas.

Through the window, Charles stared at the motionless figure in the living room.

Frustrated, he slammed his fist on the steering wheel.

A moment later, he yanked the door open and walked back.

"Stella, Grandma's been good to you. She's coming back soon after a year of treatment overseas. Can't you just not make a scene right now?"

The person on the ground didn't move an inch.

"Stella!"

He nudged her waist gently with the tip of his shoe, realizing something was wrong. Without hesitation, he bent down and scooped her up, rushing out.

In the super private VIP room of a high-end private hospital, Jason Bennett finished his check-up, then glanced at Charles with raised brows.

"What, domestic violence now?"

No wonder he'd show up at his place.

Charles shot him a glare sharp enough to kill. "The diagnosis."

Jason shrugged.

"She's not sick. She's just starving-literally. No food, no water, no sleep. Even gods would cave under that. Her emotions are all over the place, and she's got a mild concussion. Honestly, it's a miracle she lasted this long."

Charles's brow furrowed deeply.

Since Isabelle came back with Olivia, this woman had been pulling stunts non-stop.

Now that she couldn't manipulate him using Sophie, she was turning to starving herself?

"Hook her up to an IV."

Jason let out a long sigh.

He knew better than to try to talk sense into him.

Back in their youth, Charles was wild and carefree. But during an outdoor adventure, he suddenly vanished.

The rest of the Hart cousins claimed they hadn't seen him.

He turned up six months later in a hospital-one leg broken, and both his vision and hearing badly damaged.

He never said a word about what happened.

He never found the grandfather and child who'd saved him, either.

From that point on, Charles changed completely.

He didn't trust anyone, and kept everyone at arm's length.

When Stella moved into the Hart family home, he treated her like a beloved sister-spoiled her completely.

Better than he'd ever treated anyone else.The one person who managed to crack his walls-was also the one who stabbed him right in the heart.

After they hooked Stella up to an IV, Jason glanced over. "Should I call a nurse to stay with her?"

Charles didn't respond.

He just stood silently by the window, his tall frame casting a heavy shadow, a mix of loneliness and tension radiating off him.

Jason shrugged tactfully and left, closing the door behind him.

-

Stella drifted into a long, drawn-out dream.

In it, she was back to before fourteen-back when life hadn't gone off the rails. The Johnsons were living large, and she was dressed up fancy, trailing her parents into glamorous parties.

She'd been sneaking a cupcake when a handsome boy caught her red-handed. Puffing up her cheeks and placing hands on her hips, she threatened him into silence... then wiped frosting on his lips and said, "If I go down, you're coming with me."

The sweet memory shattered, torn apart by a sudden wave of blood and screaming.

She saw her mom's ruined face, her dad's twisted legs, all mangled from the crash.

Countless hands pulled her into the dark.

But that same boy dragged her back out, holding her favorite cake, trying to make her smile.

"From now on, I got you."

And then-everything flipped.

That same boy, his burning body pressing against hers, the harshness of his kiss. She was confused, hurting, and completely unprepared.

Still, she kept trying-patching their broken home with all she had, one handful of mud at a time.

Even when fear and pain chewed her up from the inside, she kept pushing forward, helpless but unwilling to let go.

"Charles!"

The man, half-awake, voice raspy and clearly annoyed, was not happy about being pulled from sleep.

"I'm right here. What's the drama now?"

He grumbled, irritated, and pulled her into his arms. But then his fingers brushed her damp, icy cheek, now soaked with tears.

His hands froze.

He shifted her a little, lowering his head to see her face more clearly.

Still stuck in the nightmare, Stella was crying like her heart was shattering.

Her tiny fists clutched tightly at his shirt.

"Charles... don't do that to Sophie. You can't..."

"Don't leave, please... please don't..."

Her whispers came out broken and choking, hardly words-but each one full of desperate longing.

Charles stared down, a storm flickering in his eyes.

How many years had he spent soothing her like this?

"I'm not going. Stop crying."

His grip loosened. One big hand rubbed circles into her back, while the other curled under her neck, pausing to quietly massage the top of her head.

Stella seemed to cling onto that touch, as if hoping to hold onto something real in the middle of the nightmare.

She burrowed deeper into his chest, pressing close.

The warmth between them flashed hot, sparking with a tension neither of them dared fan.

Since Isabelle had come back with Olivia, and the truth came out-he hadn't laid a finger on Stella.

Now, all that pent-up hunger was about to burst loose.

His breath grew rough, warning sharp between clenched teeth.

"Stella, keep moving like that and don't blame me for what happens."