Stella woke up even later than before.
Her whole body ached as though her limbs no longer belonged to her. Her knees felt weak, and she
almost collapsed on the carpet when she got up. As usual, Weston woke up earlier than her, and he
was already seated at the dining table when she came downstairs.
Joan had prepared breakfast and was walking out of the kitchen when she saw Stella. “Ms. Steele,”
she greeted. “Awake already?” Weston put down the book in his hand and glanced in her direction.
“Have some breakfast.” Stella nodded and walked toward him, her footsteps heavy.
She sat down and glanced at his book resting on the table. She asked with curiosity, “What book is that
you’re reading?”
She also saw him reading this book last night, but its cover was in a language she did not recognize.
Weston said coolly, “A French book. Eat something first.” He caressed her head and put the book
away. Stella retracted her gaze and sipped at her milk.
It was warmed to a perfect degree and slid down her throat with relative ease. The sensation gave her
momentary reprieve from her fatigue, but her voice was still hoarse.
She cleared her throat as a large hand reached over to brush away the crumbs at the corner of her
mouth.
“You’re as messy as a child.”
Stella lowered her head and grabbed a napkin to wipe her mouth.
Weston retracted his hand and lowered his gaze at her,” I’ll be going to work in half an hour. You better
say whatever you want to say now, or you’ll have to hold it in for the rest of the day.”
He had always been able to see through her in one glance.
Stella coughed and looked up at him. “That clothing store in the mall… did you do it?”
“Phrase your question clearer.” Stella pursed her lips. “The employee of that shop was fired, and the
shop closed down as well…” “And so? Isn’t that what you wanted?” he said nonchalantly as if it didn’t
matter to him one bit.
Stella suddenly looked up at him. “I didn’t even specify which shop it is. How do you know which I was
referring to?” 1
Weston held her hand and used a napkin to wipe her fingers. After her fingers were all clean, he flung
the napkin aside and said, “Since you were bullied in the first place, what’s wrong with me bullying
them back?”
It was him, indeed.
Stella let him wipe his hand and hold her wrist. His slightly calloused thumb rubbed back and forth on
the back of her palm.
“I thought you wouldn’t bother yourself with such trivial matters…” she said quietly.
“As long as it makes you happy,” Weston chimed as he lifted her chin to make her look into his eyes.
“Tell me, are you happy?” “I’m not.” Stella looked back into his eyes and said slowly.
She went on cautiously, “It was clearly Guinevere who created trouble. You promised that you would
never let her make things difficult for me. Are you breaking your promise now?”
Her crystal clear eyes held no trace of other emotions.
Weston looked deeply at her as if he could see through her completely. “Do you know what you look
like right now?”
He answered his own question, “You look like you’re jealous.”
Stella kept herself calm, defiantly arguing back. “Do you know what you look like right now?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re guilty.”
Weston found her comment hilarious. “Hah! Guilty?”
“Yes. You promised that you wouldn’t let Guinevere do anything to me, yet she provoked me multiple
times. Aside from dealing with some unimportant people, you’ve never actually dealt with her harshly,”
Stella explained, going straight to the point.
“You want me to deal with her harshly?”
“I just think that it’s wrong to promise something that you can’t fulfill.”
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