Chapter 5

Stella felt her scalp prickle.

Cynthia stepped forward, grabbed her stiff arm, and practically dragged her over to Lucas.

“Exactly, Stella. You disappeared all night. We were worried sick about you.”

Michael’s face darkened.

“This is ridiculous. Can’t you control that temper of yours for once? You’re getting more unreasonable by the day. You had everyone worried half to death. Don’t you feel even a little guilty?”

Cynthia tugged at his arm, silently telling him to stop.

But Michael only got angrier.

“This is what happens when you’re raised by someone else. That adoptive family spoiled you rotten and gave you this impossible attitude...”

Stella kicked her open suitcase aside.

It slammed into the floor with a loud bang.

“Don’t talk about them.”

Michael’s complaints stopped cold.

Lucas finally stepped in, his tone calm and gracious.

“Mom, Dad, it’s fine. Stella has a temper, but I don’t mind indulging her. She probably just went out with some friends last night. I overreacted and dragged both of you into this. Sorry.”

Stella nearly laughed.

Lucas had always been good at putting on a show.

In front of other people, he was unfailingly polite, composed, and considerate.

The perfect gentleman.

And somehow, that always made Stella look like the unstable one.

The truth was, Lucas was far more volatile than she had ever been.

Cynthia practically glowed every time Lucas called them Mom and Dad.

When he said he was taking Stella home, both Cynthia and Michael immediately began urging her to behave and stop making trouble.

Stella tuned out every word.

She hadn’t grown up in the Shaw household.

Before Michael found her, she’d had a happy family.

Parents who loved each other.

Siblings who were close.

A home where she had actually belonged.

If Michael hadn’t relentlessly insisted on reclaiming her, crying in front of cameras and performing the role of a heartbroken father until public pressure turned against her adoptive family, Stella never would’ve come back to this place.

A place that did nothing but take from her.

Did Michael and Cynthia know she was miserable with Lucas?

Of course they did.

They simply preferred the money, connections, and comfortable lifestyle Lucas provided.

So they had learned to look the other way.

To pretend everything was fine.

Even after Lucas had lost interest in her.

Even after Stella and Lucas had legally divorced.

As long as Stella was still useful, Michael and Cynthia would keep playing dumb and pretending she was living some perfect life with the Lawsons.

Lucas practically dragged her into the car.

The second the door shut, he grabbed her face and turned it toward him.

His dark gaze dropped to her neck, searching for fresh marks.

“Where did you spend the night?”

Stella slapped his hand away and rubbed her face hard.

“At a friend’s place.”

“Which friend?”

“None of your business.”

“Stella.”

Danger crept into Lucas’s voice.

“I’m really not happy right now.”

“Why the hell should I care?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

She was getting bolder.

He thought back to last night, when he’d returned home and discovered she was gone.

Even now, the anger was still sitting heavily in his chest.

He drew a slow breath, caught her hand, and began idly turning it over in his palm.

“Tell me who that man was. Then promise me you’ll behave from now on, and I’ll let this go.”

Stella turned and stared at him for a long moment.

Then she smiled.

It was bright enough to make Lucas’s heart skip unexpectedly.

Her red lips parted.

“Why don’t you just die?”

His expression froze.

Stella’s smile turned cold.

“If you’re dead, I’ll let everything you’ve done go too.”

Lucas flung her hand away.

It struck the car door hard enough to send a sharp ache through her bones.

Stella barely reacted.

She rubbed her hand absently.

Her skin was so pale that a red mark was already blooming across it.

Lucas raised his hand as though he was about to slap her.

For some reason, he stopped himself.

Instead, he reached into the back seat, grabbed a garment box, and threw it at her.

“Claire has an appraisal event tonight. I’ve arranged for you to attend as her assistant.

“This is important to her. A lot of major people in the industry will be there, so don’t screw it up.

“Otherwise, you know what happens.”

Both Stella and Claire worked in antique appraisal.

Stella had grown up around collectors and experts, learning the trade through years of hands-on training.

Claire had the formal academic credentials.

Unfortunately, credentials were about all Claire had.

She had very little natural talent for appraisal.

The reputation she’d built over the past two years existed almost entirely because Stella had been secretly checking pieces for her.

The garment box hit Stella and slid onto the seat beside her.

A mocking smile touched her lips.

“What happens?”

She looked at Lucas.

“You refuse to donate bone marrow to Mia?

“Or cancel the surgery she’s supposed to have next month?”

Lucas frowned.

Something about Stella felt different.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

But she was still as stubborn as ever.

Still refusing to bend, no matter how hard he tried to break her.

He gave a cold snort.

“As long as you understand.”

Stella went quiet.

After a moment, she bent down and picked up the garment box.

Her fingertips brushed over the tiny crystals sewn into the dress.

With her eyes lowered, she looked almost subdued.

“I’ll help her.

“But after this, give me my ID and documents back. I want to take Mia somewhere for a few days. She could use a change of scenery.”

Lucas’s expression eased.

“Fine.”

The child was sick anyway.

How far could Stella possibly take her?

There was no reason to keep such a tight leash on her all the time.

Giving her a little freedom wouldn’t hurt.

She couldn’t run.

Not when Mia’s treatment still depended on him.

Lucas was pleased.

So was Stella.

She had always believed in finishing what she started.

Claire had taken enough from her.

Her achievements.

Her reputation.

The recognition that should’ve been hers.

Tonight, Stella would give Claire one final chance to enjoy the spotlight.

The higher Claire climbed, the harder Stella would make her fall.

At eight that evening, Stella arrived with Lucas at the exclusive private club hosting the appraisal event.

Once they entered the exhibition hall, Lucas pulled her aside.

“I’m going to pick up Claire. Stay here and behave.

“Remember why you’re here tonight. Don’t do anything unnecessary.

“If you do a good job, I’ll make time tomorrow to visit Mia.”

Ever since Mia got sick, she had constantly asked for her dad.

Every time Stella visited the hospital, Mia wanted to know when Daddy was coming.

Stella had compromised with Lucas more times than she could count just to keep her daughter happy.

Just to give Mia the illusion of a loving, complete family while she fought her illness.

But no matter how many promises Lucas made, he almost always broke them.

Sometimes work was too busy.

Other times, Claire needed him.

Again and again, Stella and Mia had been disappointed.

And again and again, they had believed him anyway.

Now Mia was dead.

And Stella was finally free.

She swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat.

“Don’t worry. I won’t disappoint you.”

Her rare obedience immediately pleased Lucas.

Almost without thinking, he reached out and stroked her cheek.

“Good girl.”

The moment he walked away, Stella scrubbed hard at the spot he had touched.

No one paid her any attention.

She didn’t care.

She wandered around the exhibition hall by herself.

She had already heard plenty about tonight’s event.

Walter Collins, who headed both the Ravenwood Antique Dealers Association and the Ravenwood Collectors’ Society, had organized the evening.

Claire might have become one of the hottest young names in the field over the past two years, but she still lacked the experience and reputation to qualify for an event at this level on her own.

Luckily for her, Lucas had been opening doors.

Claire was desperate to break into the industry’s inner circle, and earning Walter’s approval was an important step.

Stella made one slow circuit of the room, quietly memorizing the details of every piece on display.

When she passed one booth, she noticed a crowd gathered around a framed nineteenth-century landscape watercolor.

She paused and moved closer.

The owner stood beside the painting, speaking enthusiastically.

“I already had someone appraise it. They said it’s worth about this much.”

He held up five fingers.

Five hundred thousand.

“I paid less than a hundred grand for it. Not bad, right? Guess I got lucky.”

“Almost a hundred thousand?”

Stella murmured, just loudly enough to be heard.

“For something that’s obviously fake?”

She glanced at the painting.

“Someone really saw you coming.”