A pause hung on the line before Philip Dawson, Stella's father, finally spoke, his voice soft but laced with worry. "Stella, I warned you long ago-Owen will never appreciate what you give. Ungratefulness is in his nature."

A hint of irony curled at Stella's mouth. "I thought I could change things. I was wrong."

"Come back to us," he murmured, the tenderness unmistakable. "The man we have in mind for you is leagues ahead of Owen-he's from a better family, carries himself well, and he's even more handsome. You're the light of my life, Stella. Don't spend another minute on someone who won't return your love."

"I understand," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Once I finish dealing with him, I'll accept the marriage arrangement."

...

Sunrise crept through her bedroom window as Stella sat before her mirror, instructing her maid to unbraid her tangled hair. She slipped into a gleaming white dress and picked out a pair of elegant high heels.

Her steps echoed down the staircase, drawing murmurs from the household staff.

"I haven't seen her dress like that in a long time. She usually tries to blend in..."

"I thought she said it helped Owen feel more comfortable?"

The butler, Samuel Reeves, stepped forward, measuring his words. "Miss Dawson, will you be visiting your father today?"

Stella only ever dressed in her true style when she visited her family. Any other day, she hid behind a mask.

A faint smile touched her red lips, but there was nothing warm in her gaze. "No. I'm going to campus."

At Crest University, a group of students clustered together in the classroom, their voices loud and grating with gossip.

"You guys heard what happened, right? Stella was kidnapped last night!"

"That's not even the wildest part. People are saying they took her clothes and recorded the whole thing!"

"Seriously? No wonder she's not glued to Owen today."

Suddenly, a burst of noise came from outside the classroom.

Someone gave a long whistle, and a boy called out, "How beautiful!"

The buzz of excitement quickly filled the air.

Heads swiveled toward the doorway-where a slender, striking woman appeared, moving with quiet confidence.

Her dress fit like it was made for her, accentuating every graceful movement. With each stride, she radiated a confidence that drew every eye in the room.

At first, nobody seemed to recognize her. Then, one by one, realization dawned-this stunning woman was Stella, the same woman they used to ignore, always so plain and withdrawn.

The whispers grew sharper as a few students edged closer, their words laced with cruelty.

"Well, look who decided to show her face! I thought you'd be hiding after what happened last night."

"Is that a real designer dress? Where'd you even get the money for something like that, Stella?"

A sharp cackle cut through the chatter. "Don't tell me you started selling those filthy videos just for extra cash. I guess that whole kidnapping story was just to hide what you've really been up to!"

"Let's be honest, no matter how much you try to dress the part, you'll never measure up to Owen. He's out of your league. You really think you belong next to the son of the richest man in town?"

Stella let out a dismissive laugh.

The son of the richest man? Owen-the same guy who dragged himself out of poverty, depended on her for every cent of tuition, and only managed to look the part because she bought all his expensive clothes? That same Owen?

He'd clung to her side, used her money to play the role of high society, smiled for the camera beside her father-spinning the illusion that he was the city's golden heir.

She'd once gone to any length to shield his shaky ego and hide his secrets. Thinking about it now only twisted her stomach with disgust.

"Move," Stella said, her voice icy and flat.

Their outrage exploded.

"You really think you can talk to us like that, you shameless bitch?"

Right then, Owen stepped through the doorway. His expression hardened, and his voice dripped with disappointment. "Stella, I know things have been rough for your family, but stooping to filming those risque videos just to buy flashy clothes? And you are not even fit in that dress."

She met his eyes, then flashed a sly, mocking smile.

"Things have been rough for my family?" she retorted. "Are you sure you are not talking about your family?"

A stunned hush swept through the crowd. Everyone froze.

Stella-the woman who used to shrink whenever Owen spoke-had just challenged him outright? And with that edge in her voice?

Owen had always been painted as the untouchable son of the city's wealthiest family. Who in their right mind would say those crazy words?

"Have you lost your mind, Stella?"

"Seriously, that's revolting."

"You're nothing but a driver's kid! If Owen hadn't been generous, you'd all be begging in the street. Who do you think you are, throwing shade at his family?"

Stella's laughter rang out, sharp and hollow. She stared straight at Owen. "So now I'm just the driver's daughter? That's your story today?"

A dark scowl settled on Owen's face. "Quit twisting things. Take off that dress before you embarrass yourself any more."

She rolled her eyes. "And if I refuse?"

One of Owen's loyal followers stepped forward, reaching to grab the dress. "Then let's strip it off you ourselves, you worthless tramp!"

Several hands lunged in her direction. Stella held her ground. When one guy rushed at her, she moved fast-blocked his arm and delivered a solid punch straight to his jaw.

The man never even managed a sound before collapsing, knocked out with a single blow.

Shock flickered through the group, but in an instant, they erupted, charging at her in a frantic rush.

Stella weaved through the chaos-she ducked one attack, then spun and landed a brutal kick right into another's ribs. He crumpled to the floor, wheezing and clutching his side. The rest hesitated, fear breaking through their boldness.

It felt unreal. Stella-quiet, invisible Stella-fighting back? Fighting like this?

She stood quietly in the aftermath, adjusting the rumpled hem of her crisp white dress, her face cool and almost indifferent.

Her eyes skimmed the group, pausing on Owen, and her lips curled into a taunting smirk.

Owen's jaw clenched. He clearly hadn't expected her to push back. Struggling to recover, he cleared his throat, voice forced and shaky. "If you want everyone's attention so badly, go ahead and flaunt that dress. Next time, just say what you need instead of embarrassing yourself for cash. Don't let this happen again."

He wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing nervously at his friends groaning on the floor.

One of the students staggered up, tears streaming down his face. "Owen, don't just stand there! She attacked us!"

"Yeah, man! Are you really going to let her get away with that?"

"She always did whatever you said before. Just yell at her, and she'll fold!"

Hearing that, Owen's posture eased. Of course. In his mind, Stella was still the loyal shadow who did whatever he wanted.

"Stella," he called out smoothly, "they didn't mean any harm. You roughed them up, so it's only right for you to say sorry. Anyway, it's almost lunch. Why don't you take everyone out to eat and patch things up?"

Confident as ever, he turned his back on her and started walking, never doubting for a second that she would fall in line behind him, just like she always had.

A quiet, amused chuckle slipped from Stella's lips.

Owen wouldn't be caught dead in the cafeteria. He always insisted on fancy lunches off campus, and she was the one paying the bill every time.

Without her money, the most he could afford was a sad sandwich from a vending machine.

She had no interest in playing along anymore. Still, she remained silent and strode right past the campus gates.

A few students snickered in the background. "No surprise. She still jumps when Owen snaps his fingers."

"All that just for a scrap of Owen's attention."

Stella picked a spot and sat down at the restaurant.

Moments later, Owen strolled in, Jenna clinging to his arm, their friends trailing behind in a noisy pack. They marched straight to Stella's table, but Owen made sure to settle just far enough away to keep up appearances.

He didn't bother asking for her opinion. With a flick of his wrist, Owen took the menu that was set in front of her, tracing his finger down the options. "I'll have the foie gras, the caviar, the escargot, truffle ham, and let's add the lobster pasta," he said, all smooth confidence.

Turning to his crew, he grinned. "Order anything you want. No limits today."

His friends dove in, rattling off the priciest items without hesitation. One boy scoffed, "If she can't cover all this, she might have to wash dishes in the back. Hope you're ready, Stella."

Owen's smirk deepened, clearly entertained by the whole charade.

Soon, servers filled the table with one luxurious dish after another, silver lids lifted with a flourish. The group feasted, laughter and snide comments echoing through the restaurant.

All the while, Stella sat quietly, a study in patience, simply watching them enjoy their little performance.

When the table finally quieted, plates empty and everyone lounging in satisfaction, Stella lifted her napkin with deliberate care and wiped her hands.

Owen, lounging in his seat, waved a hand at the server. "She's picking up the tab."

The waiter placed the bill in front of Stella. Without even glancing down, she let a faint, knowing smile play across her lips.

"I didn't touch a thing," she replied, her voice calm and even. "Why would you expect me to pay for your meal?"

Owen's confidence faltered, a flush creeping up his neck. "Stella! You promised to patch things up. Isn't this how you planned to apologize? Why are you backing out now?"

She kept her tone cool and unhurried. "We just happened to choose the same restaurant. Not once did I offer to treat you."

Embarrassment deepened the color in Owen's cheeks. His mouth opened and closed, but no retort came out.

The waiter looked uncertain. "So... who's actually covering the bill, then?"

Owen stiffened, hands diving into empty pockets. He didn't have the cash-and he knew it.

His friends glanced at the bill, only to recoil in shock. The amount was enough to wipe out everything they got for the month-maybe more.

Jenna hurried to the front, her voice dripping with false pleading. "Stella, why not just pick up the tab? Owen's always treated you so well. Surely you can cover a meal."

The rest chimed in right away, "Exactly! You've been riding his coattails forever."

"All those expensive things you show off are thanks to him, and now you want to act like you're broke? Pathetic."

"Owen must have the worst luck ever, putting up with you."

Stella's laughter was sharp and joyless.

How absurd. The guy they thought was her benefactor-the same one whose school bills she paid, whose designer watches and shoes all came from her pocket, whose entire rich-boy image was her creation-sat there, letting everyone believe he'd been the generous one?

"Is that so? He claims he's spent money on me?" she said, her voice suddenly sharp and cold. "Then go ahead and ask him to pull up the proof. Let's see the bank transfers, the receipts, anything at all that shows he actually paid for something on my behalf."

With a glare, she fixed her eyes on them. "If nobody can do that, I'll have every right to drag all of you into court for defamation."

Owen's hands smacked against the table as his temper flared. He leaned in, shaking with anger. "Are you out of your mind? I'm warning you for the last time-either pay the bill right now, or we're finished. And don't come running back to me when you regret it!"

A cold, amused smile tugged at her lips. "That works just fine for me."

She lifted her head high, locking eyes with him. With deliberate emphasis, she responded, "We're done. From now on, there's nothing connecting you and me. We're finished."

"What did you just say?" Owen stood stock-still, stunned by Stella's words. His eyes grew wide with disbelief, and all that arrogance he'd worn just a moment ago melted away, leaving only a glimpse of panic.

His friends, packed in around him, burst into laughter and whispers. A few of them jeered, their words full of contempt.

"Stella, are you really so desperate for Owen to notice you that you'd pull a stunt like this? There's got to be a limit to how pathetic you can act."

"Yeah, right! Who do you think you are, talking about leaving him?"

"Owen actually gave you the time of day. You ought to be grateful for that much!"

Stella paid them no mind. Without missing a beat, she lifted the menu and began to order her meal, as if none of them existed. Once she finished, her gaze returned to Owen. His face was now ghostly pale.

She met his eyes with a look as cold as ice. "Are you just going to stand there all day? Get out of my sight. You're making it hard for me to enjoy my food."

She couldn't deny it—she used to think Owen was attractive. There was a time when his figure and those deep-set eyes had made her pulse race. The story he'd sold her about being humble and hardworking was just convincing enough to make her feel sorry for him, but she was done believing in lies.

Time had changed everything. Watching Owen now, flustered and cornered, she found it impossible to recall what had ever drawn her to him. Whatever value she thought he once had was long gone.

Fury twisted Owen's features. His jaw tightened until it seemed his teeth might crack, and he fought hard to keep himself from exploding.

"If that's how you want it, then have it your way," he snapped. "Don't come running back when you regret this."

Instantly, his friends rallied to his defense.

"Get real! Owen could have any woman he wants. People would kill for a shot at him!"

"Wait till tomorrow—he'll have more love letters than he can count!"

"She'll be crawling back before he even thinks about her!"

Jenna slipped forward then, her voice coated in honey. "Stella, why are you being so difficult? Just say you're sorry. Everything will be fine." Her hand reached out for Stella's arm.

Revulsion sparked in Stella's eyes, and she jerked away.

A flash of irritation crossed Jenna's face. Her legs buckled, sending her crashing onto the floor. The slap of her fall rang through the restaurant, and blood quickly beaded from a cut on her knee.

Owen lurched toward her in alarm, catching Jenna and gathering her close, shielding her as if she might break.

A wave of outrage swept through the group.

"Unbelievable! How can you be this cold? Say you're sorry to Jenna, right now!"

"Seriously! You're just bitter because Jenna outshines you in everything!"

Without warning, Stella let out a laugh. "Jenna, I never laid a finger on you. What did you do—trip over your own shadow?"

A sharp glare from Owen cut across the room. "Everyone saw what you did! If you hadn't moved like that on purpose, she would still be standing. How can you sit there and lie about it?"

Jenna wrapped her arms around Owen, looking as fragile as a wilted flower. "She's probably still mad about me saying she stole my research results," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Owen... maybe you should give her another chance?"

Owen responded with a harsh, bitter laugh, "Another chance? She'll be begging me for forgiveness before the sun sets. That's how it always goes."

He had grown used to Stella's endless efforts to please him, expecting she'd never actually walk away. For that reason, he dismissed her outburst as nothing more than a temporary fit.

With a voice like ice, Owen issued a command. "Stella. Get up and grab a first-aid kit for Jenna. Do it now."

Just as the server arrived with her meals, Stella barely glanced up. She picked up her utensils, her lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

She spoke in a steady, detached tone. "I'm about to have my lunch. If Jenna needs first aid, whoever caused her fall can help her out."

Chaos erupted around the table. Owen's friends unleashed a torrent of shouts, their fingers stabbing at Stella like accusations.

"Are you even human? You're completely heartless!"

"Seriously, Stella? Jenna's over here in pain and you're just going to sit there stuffing your face?"

"Who do you think you are now? You used to hang on Owen's every word, and suddenly you act like he doesn't even exist?"

"Still the same trashy woman—no empathy, no shame!"

While insults flew, Stella never so much as blinked. Owen's jaw tightened until it looked painful. Scooping Jenna up, he made for the exit.

But before Owen could get far, the restaurant owner stepped in with two security guards at his side. "Not so fast. You all need to pay before you leave," he said, his tone unyielding.

Owen turned sharply, fury in his eyes. "Stella!"

Unbothered, Stella continued eating, her tone calm and almost amused. "Call whoever you want. I won't be paying. The bill has nothing to do with me."

Someone in the group shuffled nervously and mumbled, "Let's just drop it... Maybe she's broke. But Jenna really needs a doctor."

Another quickly added, "Owen, this is nothing for you. Your family's loaded. Just pay up and let's go."

Frozen in place, Owen's anger gave way to silent humiliation as sweat began to bead along his hairline.

Nestled in his arms, Jenna whimpered softly, her eyes filling with tears, "Owen... I can't stand the pain..."

All eyes in the restaurant landed on Owen as he froze, looking small and colorless beneath the harsh lights.

With a measured movement, Stella placed her fork and knife on the table and finally glanced his way. Her tone was cold and mocking. "What's the matter, Owen? Don't tell me footing the bill is too much for you now."