Chapter 92

Chapter 92:
This was Sleka. Here, gossip about Choria barely made it past a whisper.
Haley’s expression twisted. “What nonsense are you saying?”
Stella gave a calm, deliberate smile. “I found out that Ms. Russell once reported you and Marc to the police. Not just for cheating behind her back, but for stealing her patent, too. Pretty sure there’s still a record of it sitting at the station. It caused quite a stir back then. Funny how you walked out of it all without a scratch. I’m guessing your family had to pull some serious strings, huh? And now, here you are, still obsessing over a woman who’s been gone for ages. What’s your real angle, Ms. Smith?”
The crowd started whispering. And it wasn’t in Haley’s favor.
“Isn’t she that wealthy heiress from Achury? What’s she doing here playing the mistress? Her family must be mortified.”
“Rich? Please. Ever hear the saying ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’? Maybe her mom wasn’t much better—how else would she end up like this?”
“Poor Stella. Who knows, maybe she was killed by Haley and that dirtbag husband of hers.”
Haley and Beatrice could hear every word. The sneers, the judgment—it all hit like a slap in the face.
Haley snapped, her voice shrill. “Stella, stop making up lies! You just can’t stand that Marc’s moved on. He doesn’t love you anymore! You were the one clinging to him! You disappeared for six months hoping he’d chase after you—and when he didn’t, you crawled back with a new name, hoping to win him over again. Pathetic.”
“I’ll say this one last time,” Stella said, voice steady and cold. “My name is Sylvia Gilbert, not Stella Russell.” Her expression darkened. “Ms. Smith, not everyone settles for scraps like you do. Maybe Marc’s a prize in your eyes, but to the rest of us? He’s trash.”
She had let go of her feelings for Marc a long time ago. In fact, looking back, she regretted ever wasting years on him.
All those empty promises—she’d been blind.
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“Stella, who are you calling trash?!” Haley couldn’t take it. The moment she heard someone insult Marc—especially Stella—she lost it.
She lunged at her, hand raised to slap.
But Stella wasn’t about to just stand there and let it happen.
She smoothly dodged, stepping aside just as Haley came swinging.
The problem was, Haley was in stilettos—heels at least ten centimeters high—and after missing her mark, she stumbled hard, landing flat on the floor in the most awkward, ridiculous way.
Her face contorted into a half-shocked, half-pained grimace.
People around them covered their mouths, bursting into laughter.
Beatrice’s face turned stone-cold. She’d come to this event hoping to land a deal with the Vance family, but they hadn’t even gotten to the negotiation table and were already a walking joke.
In the lounge nearby, Saul was seated at a chessboard, deep in thought. He moved a pawn with a focused hand, totally absorbed in the game. It was his birthday today, and he’d finally found a chess partner worth playing with.
Across from him, William glanced over at the surveillance monitor set up in the corner of the room.
The screen showed a clear feed of the banquet hall—right in time to catch Haley’s fall in front of Stella.
He smirked, clearly entertained. Stella had really come a long way. Turning his attention back to the game, he chuckled softly. “Your game’s gotten better.”
Saul beamed at the compliment. “Been practicing ever since our last match.”
William made his next move, sliding a knight into position, blocking Saul’s bishop.
He spoke casually, eyes still on the board. “Saul, if I’m not mistaken… Haley and Beatrice—aren’t they your relatives?” His tone was light, almost amused, as he waited for Saul’s next move.
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