That night, Justin Lane pinned me against the floor-to-ceiling window, his movements charged with an almost uncontrollable intensity. His phone rang. He answered it in German. “Yes. My marriage to Stella was only a sham. Yesterday, I officially registered my marriage to Chloe.” Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. He thought I couldn’t understand German. He even smiled at me, pressed a kiss to the side of my neck, and never paused what he was doing. How ridiculous. Ten years of love, and it turned out our marriage had only ever been a façade. After hanging up, he claimed there was an urgent matter at the office and left. A few minutes later, I saw Chloe’s Instagram post: 【He told me that whenever I need him, he’ll always be there.】 The photo showed a man’s hand wearing a watch. The Patek Philippe on his wrist was the one I had given him. Just two hours earlier, that very hand had been roaming over my body. What he didn’t know was that I’d spent six months teaching myself German just so I could read his medical records. What he also didn’t know was that I’d already signed the stock transfer agreement and booked a flight to San Francisco. Fifteen days. That was the final deadline I was giving this relationship.
Stella’s POV The rain in New York came out of nowhere, heavy drops slamming violently against the floor-to-ceiling windows of our sixty-sixth-floor penthouse. The bedroom was pitch black, illuminated only by the flashing neon lights from the city below. Justin pressed me against the cold glass. Behind me was the freezing window. In front of me was his burning chest. His kisses were wild, almost desperate, as if he wanted to consume me whole. I tilted my head back, my hands gripping his broad shoulders tightly. As wave after wave of pleasure washed over me, I closed my eyes, feeling this man’s absolute, raw desire for me. Just as we reached the peak, right at the second our sanity was about to snap, a phone suddenly buzzed frantically from the pocket of his jeans thrown on the carpet. It was Justin’s private, encrypted phone. Frustrated by the interruption, Justin cursed under his breath, his eyebrows knitting together. Still, he paused. Keeping one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, he reached down with the other to grab the phone. The moment he saw the caller ID, I felt his body stiffen. A subtle, split-second change, but I caught it. He pressed answer, pulling me flush against his chest and resting his chin on top of my head. Carter’s panicked voice came through the speaker, muffled by the loud background noise of a bar. “Justin, are you out of your mind?” Justin’s expression shifted instantly. He cut Carter off, speaking in fluent, freezing German. “I’m not alone. Speak German.” The other end went dead silent for two seconds. Then, Carter took a sharp breath. He switched to German, though the shock and anger in his voice were still palpable. “Did you really sign marriage papers with Chloe in LA?” “What the hell are you thinking?” “When you got into that car crash and ended up in a wheelchair, your company almost went under. Chloe treated you like garbage. She fled the country to marry some rich guy.” “Now she is divorced, back in town, and needs a legal husband to secure her family trust fund. And you just hand yourself over?” Those German words felt like frozen icicles piercing through the receiver straight into my ears. My brain instantly translated them into crystal-clear English. In that single second, the blood in my veins ran completely cold. An icy chill started from the soles of my feet and rushed straight to my heart. Justin didn’t notice my stiffness. He just unconsciously tightened his grip on my waist, his voice remaining cool and detached. “Chloe is in a dangerous spot right now. If she doesn’t get that trust fund, she will be buried in massive debt. I can’t just watch her drown.” “Then what about Stella?” Carter roared through the phone. “When you were paralyzed, who gave up her career as a commercial pilot to become a risk management expert just to protect your company? Who spent over a thousand hours helping you with physical therapy? She loves you more than her own life. Now you have married someone else. What is she to you?” Hearing my name, Justin’s breath hitched. A trace of impatience crept into his tone. “I’ll keep this from her. Once Chloe’s crisis is resolved, we’ll get a divorce. As for Stella… I’ll give her the grandest wedding in a few months. She won’t care about a piece of paper.” “How long do you think you can hide this? If she finds out…” “She won’t,” Justin cut him off coldly. “Keep your mouth shut. Don’t tell a soul.” With that, he hung up and tossed the phone back onto the carpet. He leaned down, kissing the side of my neck again. His warm lips tried to soothe me, and his movements became passionate once more. “Sorry, babe. Just a quick emergency with the company,” he whispered hoarsely against my ear. I didn’t say a word. I just kept my eyes wide open, staring at the reflection of our tangled bodies on the glass window. Justin had no idea. During the years he was paralyzed, in order to help him understand the medical files from top German neurosurgeons, I had stayed up late for six months straight just to learn German. So I had understood every single word he just said to Carter. To save his ex, he married her. And he planned to use a fake, legally void wedding to deceive me, the woman who had stood by him for five years. My body kept moving with his. We even reached the peak together at the very end. Panting, Justin carried me back to the bed, kissing my forehead gently, as if I were a precious gem. “Stella, I love you,” he murmured, eyes closed in satisfaction. I stared at the ceiling. My eyes burned, but not a single tear fell. I forced a faint smile, my voice as quiet as a whisper. “Yeah. I know.” I knew he loved me. But I also knew his love for me would always play second fiddle to Chloe.
Stella’s POV The next morning, I woke up to the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Justin was already fully dressed. His tailored suit made him look tall and commanding, his legs long and straight. Looking at him now, no one would ever guess that this man, who now dominated the New York business world, had been confined to a wheelchair for three long years. He walked to the bedside holding a cup of black coffee, leaning down to press a soft kiss on my lips. “Morning, beautiful. I have to fly to Los Angeles,” Justin said, his long fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His eyes were so warm they could melt ice. “There’s a merger deal that needs my signature. I’ll be gone for about three days.” I leaned against the headboard, holding the warm mug. My gaze fell on his right hand. It was bare. No ring. But just yesterday, he had signed marriage papers with Chloe in LA. “Okay,” I said, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. The bitterness slid down my throat, settling heavy in my stomach. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Keep your legs warm.” “I will. Wait for me at home,” Justin said, ruffling my hair before turning to stride out of the penthouse. The heavy door clicked shut, leaving the massive penthouse in a silence as heavy as a grave. I set the coffee mug down and got out of bed. Instead of heading to the bathroom, I walked straight into the study. I unlocked the safe and pulled out a pre-drafted equity transfer agreement from the very bottom, along with a sleek business card. The card read: Arthur Lane, Chairman of the Lane Group. Justin’s grandfather. No one in the Lane family had ever accepted me. To them, I was just a thrill-seeker who liked extreme sports, a girl from a common background. Even though I had given up flying for Justin, and even though I had forced myself to become a top Chief Risk Officer to stabilize their family empire, Arthur still saw me as a gold-digger trying to climb the social ladder. I picked up my phone and dialed Arthur’s number. It rang three times before a cold, commanding voice answered. “Miss Stella, if you’re calling to beg for Justin, don’t waste your breath.” “I agree to the terms you proposed last month,” I said, my voice completely flat, devoid of any emotion. “I will hand over my ten percent stock options in the Lane Group, along with all the core data from the risk management department.” There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by a mocking chuckle. “So you finally woke up? Finally realized you don’t belong in Justin’s world?” “Yes, I don’t belong,” I said, looking out at the gray New York skyline. “But I have two conditions. First, approve my transfer to the San Francisco branch immediately, with maximum executive authority. Second, give me fifteen days to wrap things up here.” “Fifteen days? Fine,” Arthur replied, his voice dripping with the satisfaction of a man who had finally cleared a nuisance. “But after fifteen days, I want you gone from New York forever. Never show your face to Justin again.” “Don’t worry. I won’t look back.” After hanging up, I let out a long breath. Fifteen days. That was the deadline I was giving to this five-year relationship. I opened my phone. At the very bottom of my contact requests was an invite from yesterday. The profile picture was Chloe, a woman in a white ballet tutu, sporting a radiant, perfect smile. Chloe’s latest Instagram story was posted at 2:00 PM yesterday. It was a photo of a massive bouquet of red roses sitting next to two official marriage certificates. Although the names were carefully blurred, the corner of the photo captured a man’s hand. On his wrist was a Patek Philippe watch. The very watch I had bought Justin for his birthday last year. Her caption read. “He said as long as I need him, he’ll always be there. Thank you, fate, for bringing you back to me.” This story was set to be visible only to me. I stared at the photo, my chest completely numb. The pain had been replaced by a cold, calculating detachment. I wasn’t even angry. I just found it pathetic. I closed Instagram, opened the Federal Aviation Administration website, and logged into my account. A prompt popped up on the screen. “Your Commercial Helicopter Pilot License has been inactive for five years. Would you like to apply for reinstatement and schedule a re-evaluation?” Without a second thought, I clicked “Yes.” Justin didn’t need me anymore. It was time to take back my own sky.
Stella’s POV For the next few days, my life ran like a perfectly calibrated machine. During the day, I handled the complex handover process at the office. As the Chief Risk Officer of the Lane Group, I held the keys to virtually all of the company’s core secrets. I slowly deleted the encrypted data from my personal drives, packed them up, and prepared to hand them over to the transition team Arthur was sending. At night, I returned to the penthouse filled with memories of Justin and began erasing my presence piece by piece. Twelve days left. Chloe updated her Instagram again. This time, it was a photo of a candlelit dinner. Justin’s face wasn’t in the frame, but his hands were visible as he cut a steak, a bottle of Romanee-Conti resting on the table. The caption. “My favorite person across from me, my favorite wine in hand.” I had just finished a brutal four-hour simulator retraining session at the flight center. Drenched in sweat, I sat on the locker room bench, sipping ice-cold water. I looked at her story and calmly tapped the heart icon to leave a like. Five minutes later, a message from Justin popped up on Snapchat. “What are you up to, Stella?” I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard for a second before typing. “Just finished some overtime, heading home. How about you? Is the merger going well?” “Very smooth. I’ll be back in New York tomorrow,” Justin replied instantly, followed by a voice note. I tapped it. His deep, soothing voice echoed in the quiet room, with soft piano music playing in the background. “I miss you so much, Stella. I got you a gift. See you tomorrow.” I listened to his voice while my eyes remained fixed on the glass of red wine in Chloe’s Instagram post. I typed back a single word. “Okay.” Eleven days left. Justin arrived back in New York half a day early. I had just shredded a highly confidential file when my office door was pushed open. Justin walked in hurriedly, not even taking off his coat. He locked the door behind him, strode over to my desk, and spun my chair around to face him. He braced his hands on the armrests, leaning down to kiss me. It was a possessive, aggressive kiss, carrying his signature cedarwood cologne… and a faint, sugary scent that belonged to another woman. My stomach churned with a sudden, violent wave of nausea. I jerked my head to the side, dodging his lips, and pressed my hands against his chest to push him back. “Justin, we’re in the office.” Justin froze, a flicker of annoyance passing through his eyes, though it was quickly masked by his usual warmth. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. “I couldn’t help it. I missed you.” He nuzzled against me like an eager puppy, then straightened up, pulling a small, navy-blue velvet box from his pocket. “Open it.” I took the box, my fingers cold. With a soft click, the box popped open. Inside lay a breathtaking diamond bracelet. The design was intricate, featuring a rare, brilliant pink diamond as the centerpiece. “I saw it at an auction in LA and thought it would look perfect on you,” Justin said, his eyes filled with anticipation. “Do you like it?” I stared at the bracelet, but all I could see was the Instagram story Chloe had posted this morning. In Chloe’s photo, she was wearing a diamond necklace with the exact same design. Her caption had been. “He said this is his exclusive love for me.” So, his so-called “exclusive” love was just a buy-one-get-one-free deal. I looked up, meeting Justin’s affectionate gaze, and forced a smile. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Instead of putting it on, I closed the box and tossed it into my desk drawer. Justin’s brow furrowed slightly. Usually, whenever he got me a gift, I would put it on immediately and wrap my arms around his neck. Today, I was far too detached. “Is something wrong? Are you just tired from work?” Justin reached out to touch my forehead. “Yeah. The quarterly risk reports are due soon. I haven’t been sleeping well,” I said, casually dodging his hand as I stood up. “You just got back. Go rest in your office. I have a meeting to run.” Justin stared at my cold demeanor. He looked like he wanted to say something, but seeing my blank expression, he swallowed his words. “Alright. Let’s grab dinner tonight.” Once his back was turned and the door closed, I took the blue velvet box out of the drawer and tossed it straight into the trash can. Garbage belonged in the trash.
Stella’s POV Nine days left. Chloe came to New York. I had just walked out of the conference room when I spotted a woman’s silhouette standing in the hallway of the executive suite. Chloe was wearing an oversized men’s trench coat. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing her thin wrists. She was looking at the company’s corporate history wall, her long hair falling over her shoulders. She looked delicate and gentle. I recognized that coat instantly. It was Justin’s. I had accompanied him to London last winter to have it custom-made at a century-old tailor on Savile Row. Hearing the sound of my heels, Chloe turned around. We stood face-to-face. A flash of provocation gleamed in Chloe’s eyes, but her face instantly shifted into an innocent, apologetic expression. She walked over to me quickly, her voice so soft it sounded like it could blow away in the wind. “Stella, it’s been a while.” I stopped, my eyes scanning the trench coat she was wearing. My voice was entirely flat. “Chloe. Can I help you?” Chloe instinctively pulled the coat tighter around herself, biting her lower lip. “I’m so sorry… I just arrived in New York yesterday and my luggage got lost at the airport. It was freezing last night, and Justin didn’t want me to catch a cold, so he lent me his coat. Please don’t misunderstand, Stella. Justin and I are just friends now.” Just friends. I scoffed inwardly. Friends who sign marriage certificates? “It’s just a coat. You don’t need to be so tense, Chloe,” I said, my gaze cold and precise, as if evaluating a worthless spreadsheet. “Though the size is clearly too big for you. You look like a toddler wearing her father’s clothes. Next time, if you need something, just call Justin’s assistant. He can buy you clothes that actually fit.” Chloe’s face stiffened. She clearly hadn’t expected this reaction. She probably thought I would scream, throw a tantrum, or lose my mind like a jealous lunatic. Right then, the door to the CEO’s office swung open. Justin stepped out. When he saw the two of us standing in the hallway, his face paled. Instantly, he rushed to Chloe’s side, shielding her behind his back, his eyes locked onto me with intense wariness. “Stella, what are you doing here?” Justin’s voice carried a nervous tremor. Looking at his protective stance, I found it hilarious. I was his actual girlfriend, yet he was guarding his fragile ex-wife from me as if I were a threat. “Just walking back from my meeting,” I said, waving the folder in my hand with a casual smile. “Carry on. I have reports to review.” Without giving Justin another glance, I clicked my heels and walked past them. Justin froze. Suddenly, he pushed Chloe aside and caught up to me, grabbing my wrist. “Stella!” Forced to stop, I turned back to look at him. “Do you have a work-related question, Justin?” Addressing him by his first name so formally drew an instant, icy boundary between us. Justin lowered his voice, his tone almost pleading. “Don’t be mad. Chloe just got back to the country and is facing a lot of trouble. I’m just helping her out. There is absolutely nothing going on between us.” I looked into his anxious eyes. Those were the eyes that had been blind for six months after his car accident. During those six months, I had held his hand, guiding him back into the light step by step. I used to believe those eyes would only ever look at me. “I’m not mad,” I said, gently pulling my wrist from his grip, my lips curving into a flawless smile. “I mean it, Justin. She’s in trouble, and it’s nice of you to help. Go back to her, don’t keep her waiting.” My tone was completely tranquil. He probably would have preferred me to throw a fit or slap him across the face. Anything would be better than me looking at him like a total stranger. I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I turned and walked straight through the glass doors of the risk management department. The moment the doors shut behind me, the smile died on my face, leaving only a cold, dead silence.
Stella’s POV Six days left. A rare, violent storm hit New York. I left the office early and returned to the penthouse. There were still too many things to clean out. I grabbed a large black trash bag and began purging the place of my existence. In the bathroom: our matching electric toothbrushes. Tossed. In the walk-in closet: the limited-edition silk tie I spent an entire month’s salary on for him. Tossed. In the study: the Lego model we spent a month building together. I knocked it over without hesitation and swept the pieces into the bag. Finally, I walked over to the display cabinet in the living room. Inside sat a custom-made flight helmet. It was the first gift Justin gave me after he recovered. On the side, he had hand-painted an eagle soaring through the clouds, with the words. “To my Queen, Stella.” I used to treat this helmet like a holy relic, polishing it every single day. But now, looking at that eagle, it just felt like a cruel joke. I had clipped my own wings for him, and he had painted me an eagle. With a blank expression, I opened the cabinet, pulled the helmet out, and threw it right into the trash bag. At 10:00 PM, Justin came home reeking of alcohol. I heard his heavy footsteps entering the penthouse. He had been out drinking, but I would never again brew him warm milk and gently scold him like I used to. When he opened the bedroom door, all he found was darkness. I hadn’t left a light on for him, hadn’t prepared any hangover soup, and wasn’t waiting on the sofa. I heard Justin flip on the lights and stumble around the living room. Then, his frantic footsteps began pacing around the penthouse, searching for something. He must have noticed. The helmet was gone, the toothbrushes were gone, the mugs had been downsized to one, and even his favorite tie had vanished. “Stella!” Justin burst into the bedroom. I was propped up against the pillows, reading a book. I didn’t even look up at his voice. “What?” “Where is the helmet?!” Justin’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and sheer panic. “The flight helmet I got you! Where is it?!” I flipped a page, my voice as casual as if I were commenting on the weather. “Oh, that. I accidentally cracked it while cleaning the other day. It was ruined, so I threw it out.” “You threw it out?!” Justin stared at me in disbelief, as if looking at a complete stranger. “That was our first-anniversary gift! That was our memory! Even if it was cracked, we could have fixed it! Why would you throw it away?!” I finally closed the book and looked up at him. My gaze was clear, sharp, and freezing, cutting right through his lies. “Justin, when something is broken, it’s broken,” I said softly, yet ruthlessly. “You can’t fix a crack. Keeping a broken object only risks cutting yourself. It’s much easier to just throw it away.” Justin looked as if he had been struck by lightning. He stared into my eyes, trying to find any trace of spite or jealousy. But there was none. There was only absolute calmness. A calmness that bred despair. “Do you…” Justin’s throat bobbed with difficulty, his voice raspy and terrified. “Do you know something?” Looking at his guilty face, I only felt pity. I didn’t even have the energy to expose him. “I know you’ve been stressed lately,” I said, reopening my book and returning to my professional, distant tone. “Go take a shower and get some sleep. I have to meet with the San Francisco team tomorrow. Goodnight.” Justin stood frozen by the bed, watching me look back down at my book. He didn’t say another word. I wasn’t going to argue with him. I was just preparing my quiet exit.
Stella’s POV Three days left. I went to the salon and chopped off the long hair I had kept for five years. Justin used to love playing with my long hair, saying it felt like fine silk. Because of that single compliment, I had kept the same hairstyle for five years, spending thousands of dollars a month on hair treatments. But now, looking at my sleek, shoulder-length bob in the mirror, I felt lighter than ever. Leaving the salon, I met my only close friend in New York, Nora, at a Michelin-starred restaurant. “Are you really doing this?” Nora looked at my short hair, her eyes red. “Moving to San Francisco? What about Justin? You literally almost died for him, and now you’re just handing him over to that ex on a silver platter?” I raised my wine glass and downed it in one go. The burning liquid slid down my throat, settling into a dull ache in my chest. “Nora, he’s not worth fighting for,” I said, setting the glass down with a self-deprecating smile. “He already married Chloe on paper. If I stay, what am I? His mistress?” Nora’s eyes widened in shock. She slammed her hand on the table. “That piece of trash! I’m going to the Lane Group headquarters right now and exposing him to everyone!” “Don’t,” I said, catching her hand. My eyes were cold and focused. “Arthur gave me full authority over the San Francisco branch, plus a massive payout for my stock options. Trading a garbage man for all of that is a steal. If we make a scene, the deal might fall through.” As a risk expert, I always knew how to minimize losses. My heart was bankrupt; I couldn’t afford to lose my financial leverage too. Just then, my phone buzzed on the table. It was an Instagram notification. Chloe had posted. In the photo, Chloe was wearing an extremely luxurious custom wedding gown, standing in front of a massive mirror. Reflected in the background was Justin, sitting on a sofa, waiting for her. The caption. “He said even if it’s just a formality, he wants me to be the most beautiful bride.” I stared at the post and calmly pressed the heart icon. Less than a minute later, Justin’s call came through. I answered and put it on speaker. “Stella, where are you?!” Justin’s voice was filled with panic and desperation. “Let me explain! Chloe has a charity gala next month and needed to borrow a dress. I only came along to help her choose. It’s not what you think!” His voice carried a guilt he didn’t even realize he was projecting. I leaned back in my chair, looking up at the restaurant’s chandelier. My voice was sweet and perfectly calm. “I know. The gown is gorgeous. It suits her perfectly. You’ve always had great taste.” The other end of the line went dead silent. Only Justin’s heavy, erratic breathing filled the quiet air. “Stella…” Justin’s voice began to tremble. “Don’t talk to me like that. Please, just yell at me. Don’t use that tone…” “Justin, I’m having dinner with a friend. I have to go.” Ignoring his unraveling sanity, I hung up. Half an hour later, the door to our private dining room was slammed open. Justin stood at the threshold, drenched in sweat, his tie askew, his eyes bloodshot. When his eyes fell on my short hair, all the strength seemed to drain from his body. He had to grip the doorframe to keep from collapsing. “Your hair…” His voice shook, his eyes wide with terror. “It was getting too long and was a pain to wash, so I cut it,” I said, standing up and grabbing my coat from the chair. I looked at him as if nothing were wrong. “What are you doing here? Weren’t you helping Chloe with her dress?” Justin suddenly lunged forward, locking me in a suffocating embrace. He held me so tightly, as if trying to fuse me into his bones. “I’m done helping her. No more dresses, ever again,” Justin sobbed, burying his face in my shoulder. His voice cracked. “Stella, let’s get married. Let’s go register tomorrow! I’ll transfer all my shares to your name. Just marry me!” I let him hold me, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. I stared at the painting on the restaurant wall, my heart completely flat. Register tomorrow? Did he forget he was legally another woman’s husband? Bigamy is a felony. He could go to prison for that. “Sure,” I said, gently patting his back. My voice was as sweet as a dream. “But not tomorrow. I have to hand over my final risk assessment reports tomorrow. Let’s do it in a few days.” Justin pulled back, his eyes lighting up with joy. “Okay. In a few days, I’ll plan everything. I’ll give you the most romantic proposal ever.” I looked down, hiding the mocking smirk in my eyes. Too bad you don’t have a few days left.
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