7

STELLA POV 

“What is the meaning of this?” I whispered as I continued reading the unburnt parts of the letter.

This must be a joke!

I brought out the rest of the documents from the fireplace and brought them to the table. I read them one by one. Tears stung my eyes as I read to the point I couldn't continue because I couldn't see. 

Cassandra… 

Ten million dollar inheritance…

Surrogate…

I don't fully understand what I'm reading! What does it all mean? 

I rushed toward mother's bedroom. “Mom! What is this?” I yelled as I barged in to confront her.

No answer.

The room was silent. The smell of rusted wood and sweat filled the nostril. The room was dark.

I was inside, “mother!” The shower wasn’t running. She wasn’t in the room.

I lifted the curtains and opened the window so air could get in. The stench was becoming unbearable for me. 

The dust from the curtains penetrated into my nostrils and I sneezed and coughed. I used my hands to clear the air. 

Doesn't mother clean her house? The house wasn't this bad when we lived together. Well looking back, I'm the one who spent hours cleaning every room under mother's orders. 

She always talked about environmental hygiene and self care. She does self care but she's lacking in the other department, is it because she's getting old? 

I sighed. Starting tomorrow, I have to start clea—

I heard the engine of a car.

Out the window, I saw Devon’s car driving into the compound.

I need to leave this place. 

“Damn it!” I cursed under my breath.

I weighed the pros and cons of taking my luggage, then decided to leave it behind.

I grabbed my phone and the documents then slipped out through the back door.

---

DEVON POV

I stepped into the old dilapidated house. So this is where Stella lived?

The tiles were broken, dust everywhere and cobwebs almost everywhere in the walls. 

I brought out my handkerchief from my pockets and covered my nose, the house reeked of old people and sweat.

Martha, Stella's mother, had called to inform me Stella came to visit her. 

I finally knew where she ran off to. Immediately, I met up with Martha and drove her back to her house and met Stella so our quarrel can be resolved once and for all. 

Have we ever fought this long before?

Just as Estelle has told me, Stella must really not like her. It's saddening to finally see it. But why? I still don't get it. I don't think I will ever understand my wife and I've come to accept it.

Fortunately, Estelle is here to help me interpret Stella’s actions. I just have to trust what Estelle says.

Ever since that accident years ago, Estelle has been the only one I could trust. But Stella will never grow tired of her shenanigans.

“Stella!” I called out as I walked through the house, handkerchief still on my nose. 

The scent of parmesan and cheese drifted from the kitchen through the fabric. I smile spread across my face as I slowly lowered the handkerchief. 

Stella had always been a great cook. I thought to myself as I walked into the kitchen. 

She wasn't there but I found her white luggage. 

So she took this at least… isn't it the luggage she came with?

I want to eat her cooking every day. It pains me that we've been fighting for days, and I haven’t eaten her food once. It has been eating me alive, trying to stay angry with her.

Maybe now we can resolve this so I can see her smile again and eat dinner with her and her mother.

It will be the first time meeting her biological mother, the person she grew up with. 

I walked back into the living room and saw Estelle looking around, handkerchief on her nose as she scanned the room. I told her to tag along so she could help resolve the issue. I could not keep living with this tension.

Martha stood beside her, down at her, hesitant to touch Estelle’s fair hands. 

Martha's a tall and plump woman, more than a head taller than Estelle. She's tanner with a wide face and sharp facial features. 

The twins don't look like their biological mother at all. 

They have rounder eyes, pale skin and are short. Their ginger hair isn't from either of their parents, I wonder who they got it from. 

“Stella!” I called out again. 

“She must be in her room.” Martha said as she walked into the kitchen, “Silly girl left the dining room and kitchen like this! I wonder who taught her to do this this way!” Martha complained. 

Her words struck a nerve. Why's she's talking like Stella's her maid?

“And she didn't even keep her luggage in her room!” she huffed, “Stella come out now!” 

Minutes had passed.

Stella still hadn't responded.

Does this mean she’s still angry?

What's the right course of action now? 

“Do I beg her?” I wondered out loud as I looked down the hallway.

“No.” Estelle responded, she walked over to me, her stilettos clacking loudly over the tiles. “Tell her you'll forgive her if she comes out. Trust me.” She dropped her Chanel purse on the glass table, then linked our arms and rested her head on my shoulder. 

I nodded, “Stella, if you come to the living room now, I promise I’ll forget everything that happened. We can go back to normal.”

Silence. 

“I guess this won’t work,” Estelle said. “She's too stubborn today. Devon you must put her in her place so she doesn't act out anymore.” she whispered in my ears.

I walked to the hallway, Estelle followed. 

“Stella is no longer here,” Estelle said calmly.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think Stella, who craves attention, would ignore you after you called? No one’s in her room. I just know. Trust me.”

I frowned and turned to Martha, “which room is hers?”

“The one by the right.”

I rushed to the room. She was right. Stella wasn’t there. I searched the nearby bedrooms, opening each door and calling out her name.

Nowhere.

“Where did she go? Stella!” I shouted.

No response.

“Calm down, Devon,” Estelle said, placing a hand on my arm. “Control yourself. This is just Stella’s manipulative way of getting attention. She came here so Mom would call you, and you would come running. She wants to prove she isn’t insignificant.”

She sighed softly, she cupped my face. “This panicked reaction is what she wants to see.” 

“I understand why she’s like this. She was raised in a poor household while I stayed with our wealthy parents. But that doesn’t make it right.”

I groaned and pulled away from her hold. 

I called Jonathan. “She isn’t here,” I snapped. “She just left Martha’s house. I’m sure of it. Search the area. She couldn’t have gone far. Call me when you find something.”

I hung up.

“Martha, why did you let her leave?!” I demanded as I rushed back to the living room.

But she wasn’t looking at me. She stared at the fireplace. 

“Martha!” I yelled but she ignored me. 

Her mouth hung open in horror.

I saw her lips mouthed, “No.”