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."

Charles had finally lost his patience. He flipped over, pinning Stella beneath him, gripping her jaw as he kissed her roughly.

His hands slid up along her waist as his breath grew heavy and erratic.

Stella was yanked out of her nightmare by an uneasy sensation.

Her eyes snapped open, staring blankly at the swaying ceiling overhead. It wasn't until her legs were forced apart that everything hit her-hard.

Fully aware of their position, she snapped. Her jaw tightened and she bit down on Charles's neck with all the fury she had.

He grunted in pain but didn't let go, gripping her waist even tighter.

His voice, low and grainy, brushed against her earlobe, full of mockery.

"Already can't handle it before I even get started?"

It wasn't the first time Stella had bit him during sex whenever things got too rough. But hearing those words now only made her feel utterly humiliated. She squirmed and fought like hell.

"Get off me. Don't touch me."

Their clothes were barely hanging on, and both of them were pressed close, skin to skin. The friction between them only made things worse. Charles' forehead pulsed with veins as he clenched her thigh tightly, eyes bloodshot.

"Stay still if you don't want me to ruin you."

Their eyes locked, and all Stella could see was the desire burning in his gaze. It made her sick.

That night six years ago, Charles took away her innocence. And after that, unless she was on her period or right after giving birth, he would torment her almost every single night.

He claimed to hate her, yet he couldn't get enough of her body.

She used to think he was just mad at her-never that he truly despised her.

Then Isabelle came back, and everything changed. Charles stopped touching her completely. Once, after she'd showered and tried to approach him, he threw her out like garbage.

"Stella, you disgust me."

Charles wasn't some sex-obsessed maniac, but his desire was intense. Since he thought she was disgusting, it could only mean one thing-he had Isabelle back now.

But Sophie was gone. Their daughter was dead. Why should she let this faithless man continue to violate her?

"Charles, if you touch me again, I'll call the cops and report you for marital rape."

Her voice was ice as she stared blankly above, no more fighting, even though his grip on her thigh only tightened.

The pain grounded her, made her sharper.

Matching his tone from past times, she gave a cold, sarcastic laugh.

"You're the one who's gross. You touch me, I want to puke. Get off."

Something about her now was unfamiliar-cold, cutting.

Charles froze.

The heated tension in the room evaporated like someone flipped a switch.

Any trace of desire disappeared.

He rolled off her with disgust, tossed the blanket at her, and stalked off to the bathroom.

His phone, tossed carelessly on the nightstand, kept lighting up.

The name "Baby Olivia" lit up the screen again and again, stabbing at Stella's eyes-and her heart.

She couldn't look at it anymore.

She got dressed and walked out without a second glance.

Sophie was still waiting for her.

When Charles came out of the shower, the bed was empty. His face turned dark with rage.

He stormed over, grabbed his phone, ready to order someone to go get both Stella and Sophie-but then he noticed the dozens of missed calls and unread messages.

It hit him.

He'd promised to stay with Olivia at the hospital before her procedure.

He changed quickly and drove straight to Rosehill Villa.

The second he stepped out of the car, Olivia came running, clinging to his legs with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Daddy, I thought you didn't want me anymore."

His heart clenched. He bent down and scooped her up, kissing her cheek gently.

"You're my princess. How could Daddy not want you?"

"But Sophie's your daughter too. Mommy said she's sick too... and if you stayed with Sophie, I wasn't allowed to bother you. But I missed you so much."

She wrapped her arms around his neck like she couldn't bear to let go.

Isabelle rushed out too, her face full of guilt and worry."Charles, it's my fault-I didn't manage her well. I'm sorry."

Compared to Stella's outbursts, Isabelle had clearly raised Olivia to be sweet and well-behaved.

That only made Charles feel even more protective of her.

"I'm the one who made you suffer all those years abroad alone. You don't need to apologize. Are your things packed? Let's head to the hospital now."

Isabelle gave him a soft nod, then suddenly caught a glimpse of a faint bite mark near the collar of his black shirt.

It flashed by quickly, but she saw it.

Clearly, he'd been with Stella just now-so caught up he even ignored Olivia's call.

Her expression instantly shifted as she forced down the jealousy in her eyes. When she looked up again, her face was all gentle and warm.

"Charles, maybe let Olivia down for now. Don't spoil her too much."

She reached out as she spoke, but her foot slipped, and she tumbled straight into his arms.

Olivia burst out laughing.

"Mommy's being shy! She wants Daddy to hug her too. Daddy kissed me earlier, now it's Mommy's turn or she'll get jealous!"

Isabelle glanced shyly at Charles, her eyes full of affection.

She was wearing a low-cut sweater dress, showing just enough pale skin to give off a soft, confident allure.

But Charles only stepped back and took his arm away, keeping Olivia in his arms as he bounced her slightly.

"You little rascal, let's see what you've packed this time."

Olivia giggled and started chattering away.

Isabelle, watching them, slowly clenched her fists behind her back.

-

After returning to her family's home, Stella scrubbed herself in the shower until her skin was red, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't scrub away the traces Charles had left behind.

She curled up on the bathroom floor, hugging her knees in silence.

Only after a long while did she drag herself up and peel off the soaked bandage on her head. Looking in the mirror, her pale face and the ugly wound on her forehead stared back. She redid the wound care herself.

She had to find out what really happened with the Johnson Group.

She had to repay everything owed to the Hart family.

And most of all, she had to make Charles pay-for Sophie's death.

She couldn't just give up like some beaten-down loser.

After charging her phone, Stella tried to recall those terrifying memories, but the faces of the thugs who came to collect debt were still a blur.

The second she turned her phone on, messages started pouring in-she hadn't even opened them when Renee Kelly called.

"What the hell's going on with you? The deadline passed three days ago! You know that's a breach of contract, right?"

That jolted Stella's memory.

Right before Sophie's last attack, she'd accepted a commission. If she didn't deliver, she'd have to pay a fifty-thousand-yuan penalty.

Even though Charles never hesitated when it came to money, Stella never wanted to be that kind of useless, good-for-nothing.

After marrying him, she'd kept at composing part-time online and even built up a bit of a reputation.

Renee, who dealt with assigning work, had never met her in person-just a straight-talking, no-nonsense pro.

"Renee, I-"

Stella didn't even know where to begin.

Luckily, after working together for so long, Renee didn't press.

"I managed to buy you some time. I've sent you the address, go handle the client face to face."

With that, she hung up.

Stella checked the address and frowned.

Rosehill Villa?

Seriously? What are the odds?

She didn't delay. After freshening up briefly, she grabbed a taxi to the location.

After signing in at the gate, she'd barely walked a few steps inside before running into Isabelle.

"Stella? You're looking for Charles? He's already taken Olivia to the hospital. Come on in and rest. I'm just grabbing some clothes for him-he was so worried about Olivia, he even forgot to pack his own underwear."

Isabelle smiled warmly, like she completely forgot how Stella had nearly strangled her at the hospital the other day.

Acting all friendly and chill, yet dropping little landmines in every sentence-each one full of teasing intimacy she made sure Stella could hear.