Chapter 776

Chapter 776:
Marc leaned forward, seizing the chance. “Stella doesn’t eat organ meats, Mr. Briggs. Better to stick to your own plate.”
Stella nearly choked, catching the cool, unruffled expression on William’s face. “It’s not that I dislike it,” she countered, her exasperation slipping through. “I’m fine with anything.”
Marc’s composure faltered. Shock flickered in his eyes at her siding with William.
Stella sighed inwardly. Once, she would never have touched organ meats, turning her nose at their gamey flavor. But this was a work dinner. A single bite wouldn’t kill her, and there was no sense in being picky.
Marc’s attempt to embarrass William crumbled as William calmly placed the foie gras on Stella’s plate. Beneath the table, Marc’s fists curled tight, frustration burning through him.
Forcing a steady breath, Marc pivoted toward Emerson with forced enthusiasm. “Mr. Quimby, Stel’s patents are the best in our field. Nebula’s partnership with Mornstar Corporation won’t disappoint. She’s not only a brilliant researcher—she’s an outstanding manager. Nebula’s young, but thanks to her leadership, it’s growing fast.”
His praise rang smooth and convincing, but Stella’s expression cooled with each word.
Had she not known Marc’s true nature so well, she might almost have been swayed by his performance.
But the memory of his venom on that cruise ship still lingered, too sharp to forget.
Across the table, William’s grip on his wine glass tightened until his knuckles blanched.
Marc’s feigned sincerity stirred both disgust and jealousy inside him. He knew exactly why Marc had suddenly adopted this tone—just another ploy to crawl back into Stella’s good graces.
William might have dismissed Marc’s antics as laughable, yet Stella’s refusal to expose him—or even shut him down—felt too much like silent consent. A knot of frustration twisted deep in his chest.
Just as Marc prepared to heap more praise, William set his glass down with a sharp, deliberate clink of porcelain against glass, cutting him off mid-sentence.
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Leaning slightly toward Stella, William let a sly half-smile curl his lips, his gaze cutting deep. “Mr. Walsh, you seem to know Ms. Russell well. But if you knew her so well, how did you end up divorced? I seem to recall…”
He let the pause hang, then struck with razor-edged precision. “Didn’t you keep a few old flames, Mr. Walsh? Or have you managed to cut ties with them all before circling back to Ms. Russell?”
Marc’s breath caught. He hadn’t expected William to drag his private matters into the open.
Their divorce had once been the scandal of Choria—an ugly story everyone knew. As long as no one mentioned it, Emerson and the others could politely pretend it had faded into memory.
But William’s jab yanked it back into the spotlight, amusement sparking in the guests’ glances as they turned on Marc.
His practiced smile faltered, sweat beading along his brow. His eyes darted to Stella, desperate.
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