Chapter 7

Just then, a staff member announced that it was time for the guests to take their seats, giving Claire a convenient escape from the situation.

The conversation ended there.

But Stella’s mention of a “priceless” gift had already sparked everyone’s curiosity.

Word spread quickly. Even after everyone was seated, people kept asking Claire about the Renaissance signet ring, only for her to change the subject every time.

Walter noticed all of it.

Lucas grabbed Stella and pulled her out into the hallway.

He caught her by the chin, his voice cold.

“Stella, don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. This is Ravenwood, not Harbour City.

“And here’s something you apparently don’t know. Samuel Prescott is bedridden now. He can barely speak. No one can prove who his real student is anymore, so I suggest you stop wasting your time with these little games.”

Stella’s pupils contracted.

She hadn’t seen her mentor in years.

She never imagined that the next news she heard about him would be this.

No wonder Claire had been so bold about stealing his name.

Samuel was seriously ill, bedridden, and had no family around him to defend him.

They were taking advantage of the fact that he couldn’t fight back.

“Behave yourself. I’m not going to tell you again.”

Applause broke out inside the exhibition hall.

Lucas released her and straightened his cuff.

“Give it to me.”

Stella’s jaw still burned where he’d gripped it.

Her face remained blank.

“Give you what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Stella. Whatever Samuel Prescott gave you. Hand it over.”

Stella suddenly burst out laughing.

She laughed so hard that tears gathered in her eyes.

Lucas stared at her in surprise as she wiped them away and gave him a mocking smile.

“There was no cameo.

“No signet ring either.

“I made the whole thing up.”

Lucas’s face darkened instantly.

“You played me?”

His hand shot up.

“Stella, you...”

Before he could finish, someone caught his arm.

“Seriously? You’re going to hit a woman over something like this?”

That lazy drawl...

Stella’s heart gave a violent jolt.

Eric.

She looked up quickly.

Eric stood there with his usual rough, rebellious air, one eyebrow lifting at her as though he were waiting to be praised.

Stella stared at him for a second, then coldly looked away.

The moment Lucas saw who it was, the anger vanished from his face.

He shook his head with an exasperated smile.

“I was just trying to scare her. She has a talent for getting under my skin.”

He glanced at Stella.

“Go back inside. And don’t cause any more trouble, understand?”

It was obvious he didn’t want her around Eric.

That suited Stella perfectly.

She turned and walked away.

Behind her, Eric’s lazy voice drifted down the hallway.

“I heard Claire’s pregnant. You still not planning to divorce your wife?”

Stella didn’t hear Lucas’s answer.

Not that it mattered.

Lucas would never tell anyone they were already divorced.

After all, he’d spent years carefully cultivating the image of a devoted husband who adored his wife.

Stella returned to the exhibition hall.

Walter was onstage delivering his opening remarks.

As one of the guest experts, Claire sat in the front row beside several senior figures in the industry.

The lights dimmed, and the pieces began coming out one by one.

Not long after, Lucas returned and took a seat directly behind Claire.

He glanced over his shoulder toward Stella, then pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times.

Her phone buzzed.

She checked it.

Sure enough, the message was from Lucas.

**Cooperate. Think about Mia.**

Stella laughed under her breath.

Think about Mia.

Yes.

She really should.

She should think about how, while Mia lay sick in a hospital bed, her own father had been off enjoying himself with the woman he loved.

She should think about the night Mia was rushed into emergency care, when Stella called Lucas dozens of times and he ignored every call because he was out shopping with Claire.

The more she thought about it, the more she hated him.

“Lucas doesn’t know Mia died?”

Eric’s voice drifted into her ear like an unwanted ghost.

Stella put her phone away without even looking at him.

“If he knew, I wouldn’t have crawled into your bed.”

The words were cruel enough to cut both of them.

Eric clicked his tongue softly but said nothing.

Onstage, every piece made its way through the hands of the experts.

They judged authenticity, estimated age, assessed condition and importance, and gave a market value.

One piece after another was brought up and taken away.

Some were genuine.

Some were not.

Everything depended on the experts’ knowledge and eye.

A little while later, Eric spoke again.

“What does Lucas want you to cooperate with?”

He leaned in far too close, apparently seeing nothing wrong with reading over someone else’s messages.

His breath brushed the side of Stella’s neck.

In the darkness, the closeness felt almost deliberately suggestive.

A memory flashed through her mind.

His body over hers.

The heat of his sweat falling against the hollow of her neck.

Her entire body tightened on instinct.

She shifted away, putting more space between them.

Without taking her attention from the discussion onstage, she said sarcastically, “If you’re that curious, why don’t you ask your best friend? Aren’t you two supposed to be on the same side?”

If anyone else had spoken to Eric that way, he probably would’ve kicked them across the room.

But there was something about Stella’s prickly attitude that got under his skin in an entirely different way.

Like a wildcat dragging its claws lightly across his chest.

A little sharp.

A little irritating.

And somehow addictive.

Eric propped his chin on one hand and stared openly at the woman beside him.

Maybe he really did have some kind of masochistic streak.

“How about this? Tell me the truth, and I’ll go beat Lucas up for you tonight.”

Stella hated to admit it.

The offer was tempting.

Up front, Lucas seemed to sense something.

He turned around and looked in their direction.

His smile remained in place, but his brows drew together and his eyes turned cold.

A second later, Stella’s phone buzzed again.

‘Stay away from Eric.’

Stella lifted her eyes and met Lucas’s dark stare.

Then, almost deliberately, she turned toward Eric and smiled.

Bright.

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

“Mr. Harlow, looks like you and Lucas really are close. He’s warning me to stay away from you.

“What am I supposed to do?”

She leaned toward Eric as she spoke.

From where Lucas was sitting, it looked almost as if she were about to kiss him.

Eric remained half-hidden in the shadows, his reaction impossible to read.

Lucas shot to his feet.

The movement was so abrupt that everyone nearby startled and turned to look.

By then, Stella had already settled back into her seat.

She rested her chin lazily on one hand, eyes narrowed like a fox already planning its next move.

Claire glanced back, caught Lucas by the hand, and murmured something to him.

A moment later, he sat down again.

Just like that, he was back to being the polished, composed gentleman everyone knew.

As if that brief loss of control had never happened.

Eric spoke after a moment, his tone unreadable.

“You’re using me to make him jealous. Still love him that much?”

Stella turned on him the instant he’d served his purpose.

“Don’t be disgusting.”

Her expression was full of irritation.

“Just hearing that makes me sick.”

Eric raised an eyebrow.

Apparently Lucas disgusted her even more than he did.

That was oddly reassuring.

At least she was still willing to flirt with Eric.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out exactly what Lucas had meant by “cooperate.”

As the event went on, the pieces became increasingly difficult to authenticate.

The experts spent longer examining each one.

Disagreements became more frequent.

The atmosphere in the room gradually tightened.

Only in Eric’s dark corner did Stella remain completely calm.

Her red lips moved quietly as she identified each piece before the experts did.

Authentic or fake.

Approximate date.

Estimated value.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the large screen, bright and razor-sharp with absolute confidence in her own judgment.

She murmured her assessment.

And moments later, through the microphone, Claire repeated it almost word for word.