Chapter 3

As soon as Stella returned home, she was met with Carlson’s cold, stern expression and an order to kneel. She bit her lip, straightened her back, and lifted her eyes to meet her father’s gaze. "Dad," she began, "Eric and I aren’t happy in our marriage. If I could sever the mark with him, I’d have a chance at a better life. You’re my father. Don’t you want me to be happy?" As she spoke, a flicker of hope shone in her eyes. Deep down, she still clung to the hope that her father cared more about her happiness than any wealth or status. But Carlson slammed his hand down on the table, furious. "The fact that you even married him was the greatest blessing you’ll ever have! Severing the mark is a huge decision, and you didn’t even discuss it with me first. You just went ahead and did it—unbelievable!" Stella lowered her lashes, the last remnants of her hope shattered. "Tell me honestly," Carlson barked, his voice rough. "How much of Eric’s fortune did he give you when you severed the mark?" He glared at her. Eric’s tribe was as wealthy as any pack, and even a small share could be worth billions. If Carlson could get his hands on it, it would be a huge windfall. "Not a penny. I left with nothing." Stella spoke calmly, crushing Carlson’s hopes. "Nothing?" Carlson’s face contorted with rage. "You fool! How could you agree to leave with nothing?" He threw the tea set across the room in anger, grabbed a nearby cane, and began to lash at her. His strikes landed mercilessly, the pain evident with each blow, leaving red, swollen marks on her pale skin. Stella didn’t try to avoid the blows. With tears in her eyes, she silently endured, almost as if punishing herself. "Stop it, Carlson!" Thorne rushed in from the side, throwing herself between them. "What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just talk like normal people? Why resort to violence?" Carlson, still furious, pointed at Stella and shouted, "What use is a daughter like this? I might as well just kill her!" Thorne grabbed the cane from Carlson’s hand and pulled him away. "Go upstairs, Stella," she urged. "I’ll handle him." Stella wiped away the tears threatening to fall, then turned to leave. Thorne hurried after her, grabbing her arm. "Don’t go, not like this. You’re hurt. Let me take you upstairs and help you." Stella appreciated Thorne’s concern but shook her head. "No need. I can go to the hospital myself." Thorne disagreed firmly. "I can’t let you go alone. Come upstairs with me." Half-pulling, half-dragging, Thorne managed to get Stella upstairs and helped her tend to the wounds. Throughout, she showed warmth and concern, treating Stella like her own child. Since Thorne married Carlson, she had always looked down on her stepdaughter, who had no blood connection to her. But on the surface, she played the role of a mother perfectly. Though Stella and Thorne weren’t particularly close, they managed to maintain a polite, cordial relationship. Now, with Thorne caring for her like this, Stella couldn’t help but feel moved, her eyes reddening even more. Thorne comforted Stella and suggested she take a bath and rest, assuring her that Carlson would calm down by tomorrow. Stella still wanted to leave, but Thorne insisted. In the end, Stella reluctantly agreed to stay the night. Once Thorne left, Stella was alone in the room. Hugging her knees, she curled up on the sofa. The sadness and despair that had been weighing on her heart finally surged uncontrollably, overwhelming her. Eric didn’t love her. He had told her he despised her. Now, even her father didn’t care. Was there anyone in this world who loved her? Stella buried her face in her knees, stifling her sobs as she silently cried. Suddenly, her phone beside the sofa vibrated. Stella, worried it might be work-related, wiped her tears and picked it up. It was a notification from Facebook. Eric and the opera singer Ruby strolled hand in hand, savoring their time together. Later, they dined at a hotel, enjoying a lovely afternoon. Stella froze. After a long pause, she turned off her phone and buried her head back into her knees. As night fell and they sat down for dinner at the restaurant, Stella was scolded once again by Carlson. In the end, the family parted ways in frustration. Stella stormed off to her room, barely touching her food. With each passing minute, her face grew paler, her exhaustion more evident. Thorne, ever thoughtful, brought her some chicken soup and gently encouraged her to drink a couple of bowls. Perhaps the warmth and nourishment helped, as fatigue soon overcame her. After Thorne left, she found herself drifting off on the couch, her eyelids growing heavy and her body longing for rest. In her semi-conscious state, she vaguely felt someone lifting her up. Her body swayed gently, as though in a car. She startled awake but, too tired to keep her eyes open, found herself overwhelmed by an intense heat, leaving her uncomfortable and weak. The swaying finally stopped, and she was laid down on a soft, large bed. Instinctively, Stella sensed something was wrong. Panic set in, but she was too weak to fully comprehend her situation. Struggling to regain her strength, she managed to open her eyes, her surroundings completely unfamiliar. Fighting to maintain what little composure she had left, Stella attempted to get off the bed, but her legs betrayed her. The moment her feet touched the floor, she collapsed to her knees. Heat continued to surge through her body, intensifying her discomfort. She bit her lip, trying to endure both the pain and the disorienting sensations, and pushed herself to her feet. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a short, bald man barged in. Stella barely managed to glance up, her heart sinking as she recognized him. It was Banker William—the man who had once assaulted her. A chill ran down her spine as she realized the full weight of her predicament. Panicked, she tried to get up and flee, but her body felt impossibly heavy, as if weighed down by lead. Every movement was a battle. Before she could even rise fully, Banker William grabbed her wrist. With a swift motion, he turned her body and pinned her back onto the bed. "Stella, my sweet little heart," he murmured, his voice dripping with malice, as he moved closer to her. He pressed unwanted kisses to her cheek and neck.