Chapter 275

Chapter 275:
He turned his head. Lying next to him was Doreen—the woman from the lounge bar.
His heart dropped. “What the hell… what are you doing in my bed?”
Rubbing his temples, he tried to remember how the night had ended, but everything after his fourth drink was a blur.
Doreen, now awake from his voice, sat up quickly and clutched the blanket to her chest. She looked just as shocked—for a second. Then, she composed herself.
“You drank too much,” she said, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “I escorted you home. You kept holding my hand and wouldn’t let go, so…” She trailed off, glancing away, clearly embarrassed—but keeping it together. “Look, we’re both adults. These things happen. Last night was consensual. You don’t have to worry—I won’t make this complicated.”
Her voice was quiet but honest. No drama, no expectations. She got up, gathered her clothes from the floor, and began dressing without any sign of lingering attachment.
Marc looked into her clear, unflinching eyes. His headache pulsed harder.
But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything harsh.
There was something about her honesty—quiet, matter-of-fact—that caught him off guard.
He lowered his gaze, pressing his fingers to his temples.
No matter how it happened, he’d been the one in the wrong. Lifting his head, he muttered, “Last night was a mistake. I’ll make it up to you.”
He stood, grabbed his wallet from the nightstand, and pulled out a card. “There’s a decent sum on here. Password’s six zeros.”
Doreen, now fully dressed and with her hair pulled into a neat ponytail, accepted the card with a small nod. “Thank you, Mr. Walsh. I’ll be leaving now.” And just like that…
That, she was gone—no drama, no hesitation. As if the whole thing really had meant nothing at all.
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Marc stared at the empty doorway for a moment, then let out a slow breath. His thoughts drifted—again—to Stella.
She had always been like that too. Genuine. Simple. No pretenses. She carried herself with quiet ease, no matter what chaos surrounded her.
Thinking of her now twisted something deep in his chest.
Marc’s expression darkened. He never would’ve believed that one day, loving her would feel like punishment.
Meanwhile, across town, Stella looked up from the desk, blinking against the early morning light. Her phone lit up—6:02 a.m.
She’d spent the entire night at William’s dorm, finally wrapping up revisions on the planning department’s proposal. Somehow, she’d managed to power through without collapsing.
.
.
.