Chapter 35

Chapter 35:
Previously, when Marc’s suspicions were first roused, he’d immediately sent someone to trace the license plate, only to discover it belonged to William Briggs. That single fact gnawed at him—how on earth could Stella have any sort of tie to someone like William Briggs?
Marc was well aware of William’s influence in Choria. Men of William’s caliber never lacked for female attention, and Stella was just a commoner. There was no logical reason for a man like William to set his sights on her.
Unless… there was some hidden connection, something Marc hadn’t yet uncovered.
Lately, he couldn’t ignore how Stella had grown increasingly withdrawn, slipping further and further from his grasp. Was her distance because of William? Or was something else pulling her away?
Stella had just slipped free of William’s orbit and was heading for the curb to hail a cab, relief only beginning to settle, when her gaze snagged on a familiar car idling across the street.
A jolt of anxiety shot through her veins. The vehicle’s headlights flashed, and in the next moment, it swung into a tight turn and pulled up right in front of her. Marc’s door flew open. He climbed out, straightened his jacket, and met her stunned eyes with a look she couldn’t read.
He planted himself in her path, his tone low but edged with accusation. “Stella, why haven’t you come home these past few days?”
Stella couldn’t help but taste the sting of irony when Marc still called that place “home.”
“I’ve just had a lot going on,” she replied, looking away as she fumbled for an excuse.
This time, Marc wasn’t so easily dismissed. He pressed her, his tone unyielding. “So being busy means you have to clear out all your things? Half the house is empty, Stella—and everything missing belongs to you.” He fixed his eyes on her, silently demanding an answer.
Caught off guard, Stella felt a helpless frustration rising inside her. If she’d been able to join the project team, maybe she wouldn’t have to stand here facing Marc, struggling to invent explanations.
gⱯlnσν𝓮ℓs﹒𝚌o𝗺 is where stories live
As she faltered for words, Marc closed the distance between them. “You even blocked my number. And the wedding photo—it’s gone. Where did you put everything, Stella?”
A faint, mocking smile tugged at Stella’s lips. So he’d finally realized the wedding photo was missing?
After all this time, he’d barely noticed—typical Marc.
She drew a steadying breath, then lifted her chin to meet his stare. “I ran into a little financial trouble, so I pawned my things. Once I’ve sorted things out, I’ll get them back. As for the wedding photo, the frame was damaged, so I took it to have it restored.”
Stella offered no explanation for blocking Marc, silently willing her earlier excuse to be enough.
Marc didn’t press her about it—just as she’d hoped—but his brow knitted with concern. “If you needed money, why didn’t you just tell me? There was no reason to pawn your things,” he said, his tone equal parts reprimand and disbelief.
The items he’d given her were barely worth anything at a pawn shop—just trinkets compared to what he could provide.
Without another word, Marc slid several bank cards into Stella’s palm, his voice taking on that familiar, transactional warmth. “Take these. Use them for whatever you want.”
Whenever trouble flared between them, Marc always tried to smooth things over with cash.
In the early days of their marriage, he’d delighted in showering Stella with expensive gifts—luxury handbags, rare jewelry, anything with a hefty price tag. He’d handed her more than one card with no spending limit, as if money could buy her contentment.
Even then, she’d barely touched them, leaving the cards to collect dust in a bedside drawer.
Now, with divorce looming over them, she had even less reason to accept his generosity.
Before he could pull his hand back, she brushed it aside with a firm shake of her head. “That’s not necessary. I’ve already sorted the money myself. You can keep those cards.”
Marc hesitated, caught off guard by her refusal. He caught a flash of chill and barely veiled impatience in her eyes. Almost reflexively, he reached out and caught…
Her wrist, his grip tightening as if he could anchor her with words. “Stella, what are you hiding from me?”
His voice dropped, roughened by frustration. “We’re still husband and wife. No matter what’s going on—good or bad—you can tell me. I’ll handle it with you. You don’t have to shoulder everything alone.”
If she hadn’t known he was whispering the same empty reassurances to Haley behind her back, maybe she’d have fallen for his act again.
Instead, Stella forced a thin, unbothered smile. “There’s nothing to tell. Work’s been busy at the institute, and I have a business trip coming up. I’ll be out of town for a while.”
With that, she gently pried his fingers off her wrist and turned to leave.
Marc’s voice cut through the air, tense and insistent. “Wait!”
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