Chapter 151
Stella flexed her wrist with a mock groan. “Tossing these one by one? My arm will fall off before I finish!”
Jordan plucked a ring from the pile. “Toss until you’re bored. I’ll clean up what’s left.”
With Jordan, Stella shed her usual guardedness. The avenger faded; tonight, she was simply a girl lost in the thrill of the game.
Yet Jordan knew the shadow hadn’t truly lifted. The grief for her grandmother was a stone lodged deep, unmovable until justice came. But
for now, seeing her happy was enough.
When Stella’s ring finally hooked a giant stuffed bear, she spun around, eyes wide with triumph. “Jordan, did you see? I got it.”
Jordan’s smile was warm, his gaze utterly fond. “You sure did,” he affirmed, his voice soft.
“Again!” Stella grabbed another ring, pointing eagerly. “That unicorn bottle looks easy, right?”
“Definitely within your skills,” Jordan grinned.
“I’ll give it a try,” Stella declared, taking aim.
Not far away, Lionel happened to pass by, his attention snagged by the commotion. He stared, connecting this radiant girl with his memories
of Stella.
When Stella was little, she always carried a spark. Even overshadowed within her family, Her smile held a warmth that could lift the spirits of
those around her.
Lionel had witnessed her sadness, but it was always chased away by a stubborn resilience, a smile that refused to stay down for long.
But after the kidnapping, that spark had been extinguished. It was as if joy itself had been ripped from her. Watching her now, a bitter truth settled over Lionel: the light hadn’t died. She simply kept it hidden from them.
Suddenly, hands seized Lionel from behind, yanking him into the stinking darkness of an alley. No words–just the sickening thud of pipes and boots slamming into flesh. Lionel struggled, lashing out instinctively, but against the pack, his struggles were useless.
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“Make it hurt!” a voice snarled. “Bonus cash for the messiest work. Just leave him breathing.”
A vicious energy surged through the group at the promise of bonus cash.
Lionel had always been the golden boy, but now he was reduced to a crumpled, agonized heap on the filthy ground. Every blow landed with brutal force, leaving him defenseless.
When the beating finally stopped, his attackers vanished as quickly as they’d appeared, leaving him a shuddering, bloodied wreck.
Consciousness returned in waves of nauseating pain. Each breath was a knife twist. He tried to push up. White–hot agony seared his ribs, dropping him back onto the cold ground. ‘Who?‘ The question screamed in his fractured mind. ‘Who wanted this?‘
His phone lay nearby, the screen a spiderweb of cracks. Useless. Gritting his teeth against the scream building in his throat, he dragged himself inch by agonizing inch toward the alley mouth and the distant streetlights.
Then, he heard a familiar voice. Weak hope flared. He tried to call out, but only a wet gurgle escaped. The next moment, polished boots stopped inches from his face.
“A–Anna…” he rasped, blood bubbling on his lips. He had no idea why she was there, but it didn’t matter. ‘We were engaged once. And I’d been good to her. She must help. She wouldn’t leave me to die,‘ he thought.
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Anna froze. The crumpled thing at her feet was barely human. Then recognition hit–Lionel? A wave of revulsion and shock locked her limbs.
“H–help…” Lionel choked, hauling himself the last torturous inches. A trembling, filth–smeared hand reached for the pristine linen of her trousers.
Just then, Monroe’s voice, sharp with concern, cut through the alley. “Anna? Where are you?”
Anna jolted back to the present. “Coming,” she called, her voice suddenly too bright. “Just washing up.” It turned out that she’d slipped away to the restroom, stumbled upon this nightmare.
“Anna, please…” Lionel’s plea was a raw scrape of sound. Panic gave him strength. His hand clamped onto her ankle as she turned to flee. “Don’t leave! Save me. I’ll give you anything.”
“Get off!” Anna shouted. Revulsion overriding everything, she slammed her heel down onto his clutching hand. With a cry of pain, his grip released, and Anna fled without a backward glance.
Lionel’s weak cries of “Anna” faded into the alley’s gloom. Yet, Anna’s voice, bright and false, and Monroe’s concerned murmur carried clearly from just around the corner.
“What’s wrong?” Monroe asked, taking her arm. “You’re pale.”
“Nothing.” Anna forced a shudder, clinging to his arm. “Just a filthy beggar. I gave him 20 dollars, but he asked for more. It was terrifying.”
“Disgusting,” Monroe muttered. “Glad you’re alright. Let’s get away from this filth.”
Anna nodded fervently, practically dragging him away. “Yes. Get out of here.”
A sound escaped Lionel–part sob, part bitter laugh. ‘A beggar?‘ The irony was a knife twist. ’20 dollars? She hadn’t tossed a single coin.‘
He knew what she was. Knew what she’d done to her own family. Even her father and brother, she would abandon them. Yet survival instinct blinded him, making him beg the viper for help. The final, crushing realization: he was the biggest fool of all.
Stella glimpsed movement in that alley–a flash of expensive fabric that looked like Lionel’s coat, a swirl of blonde hair like Anna’s. But the
next stall snagged her attention before the thought could fully form.
Hours later, buzzing with laughter, Stella floated home beside/Jordan, the alley glimpse long forgotten.
Just as they reached the doorway, Jordan moved. One arm shot out, palm flat against the wall beside her head, boxing her in.
Stella startled, her back pressed to the wall.
“Did you enjoy tonight?” His gaze pinned her, intense in the dim porch light.
Stella nodded, a soft, genuine smile blooming. “Happier than I’ve been in a very long time.”
Jordan held her gaze, the silence thickening, humming with unspoken words.
Stella’s breath caught. ‘The way he looked at me, it felt like he might kiss me!‘ The thought sent a jolt through her. ‘But why? He loves someone else.‘ A wild, impossible idea flashed, ‘What if it’s me? Oh no… How could it be?‘
The suspended moment stretched, taut. Finally, Jordan pushed off the wall. “Alright,” he rasped, the word scraping his throat. “Get some
rest.”
No kiss came. Relief washed over Stella: ‘See? Imagined it. Overthinking again.‘
Drained by the day’s joy, Stella sank into a heavy, dreamless sleep. However, unseen by her, Jordan lay staring at the ceiling, Stella’s laughter
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echoing in his mind, her face imprinted behind his eyelids.
In the past, watching her from afar had been a sweet torment, but manageable. Now, sharing the same space every day–her presence a
constant in his home, his wife in law–felt like dancing on the edge of a precipice,
‘Just one kiss. Soft, brief,‘ he thought. He knew she needed time to heal. But the need to touch her, to simply hold her close for a moment. ‘Is that too much to ask?‘ he wondered.
When Stella emerged the next morning, she found Jordan looking haggard, with deep, bruised shadows beneath his eyes. “Whoa. Rough night?” Stella asked, genuine concern in her voice. Without thinking, her fingers lifted, drawn towards the shadows beneath his eyes.
But Jordan flinched back. Not answering, he turned abruptly and walked away.
Stella stood frozen, bewildered. Then, sharp and unexpected, hurt pierced through the confusion, tightening her chest.
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