Chapter 872

Chapter 872:
William cut her off, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto hers. “Do you know your left eyebrow twitches a little when you lie?”
Stella froze. Her hand instinctively twitched toward her brow before she stopped herself. Her cheeks burned with heat. How could he notice something so small? She had never even realized it herself.
Seeing her flustered attempt to stay calm only confirmed his suspicion. His expression darkened, not with anger, but with concern for what she might have been told.
“What happened?” His voice was firm, urgent. “Did someone come to you?” William’s questions were not just about finding answers—they were filled with worry for Stella’s emotional state.
Suddenly, Stella felt a wave of helplessness and a touch of irony. Here she was, overthinking and spiraling, while William had no idea what she’d been through.
She took a steadying breath and lowered her gaze. “Yesterday afternoon… I went to pick up a reagent. On the way back, something happened.”
She gave him a brief account of the alley attack and Amon’s sudden appearance, leaving out the provocative remarks he had made. She wasn’t sure why she held back that detail. Perhaps saying it aloud would only add more strain between her and William—and that was the last thing she wanted.
The effect on William was immediate. His face hardened, a dangerous chill rolling off him until the very air around them seemed to grow sharp. His fist clenched at his side, his knuckles blanching.
He wasn’t there when she needed him.
“Amon saved you?” His voice was like steel.
Stella nodded lightly, still unable to meet his eyes. “Yes… but he said it was just coincidence.”
A cold laugh slipped from William, sharp and hostile. “Fate doesn’t deal in coincidences.”
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There was no way Amon just happened to wander into that dark alley at the exact moment Stella was ambushed. If that was chance, it could be said for every other circumstance as well.
Without hesitation, William pulled out his phone and barked into it, his tone frigid. “Luca, look into yesterday’s attack. I want names, backgrounds, phone logs, bank records—everything. And check Amon’s movements yesterday afternoon.”
He ended the call, his face still grim, then turned back to Stella.
Regret flickered in his eyes, heavy with self-blame. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice roughened with sincerity. “I shouldn’t have left yesterday. I didn’t think they’d dare go after you so boldly.”
If he hadn’t gone to that equestrian club meeting, Stella would’ve been under his protection, and no one would’ve dared lay a finger on her.
The mix of guilt in his words, the faintly quickened rhythm of his breathing, and the raw concern shining in his gaze—together, they melted the last fragments of Stella’s doubt.
.
.
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