Chapter 2

**Stella’s POV**

The next morning, the roar of a sports car engine woke me up.

Ethan suffered from severe insomnia and sensory issues. The estate had a three-mile quiet zone. Even birds were scarce, let alone loud engines.

I grabbed my crutches, limped to the French window, and pulled back the heavy drapes.

Down on the lawn sat a flashy red Ferrari.

The girl from the video, Chloe, was stepping out of the car wearing a short tennis skirt.

She was Ethan’s newly hired "personal bodyguard and driver."

What a joke.

He was a billionaire who traveled with eight ex-special forces guys. Since when did he need a pretty young girl to protect him?

Ethan was standing on the steps, his face dark as he scolded her.

"Who allowed you to drive that loud piece of garbage in here? I told you, no noise!" Ethan’s voice was low, but it dripped with icy rage.

Chloe wasn’t scared at all. She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his elbow. "Ethan, I missed you. You promised to play tennis with me yesterday, but you left halfway through. You owe me."

Ethan shoved her hand off, his eyes darting toward my second-floor window.

I stood deep in the shadows of the curtains. He couldn’t see me.

"Get out. Do it again, and you’re blacklisted from LA," Ethan growled before turning back inside.

Chloe stood on the lawn, stomping her foot, but her eyes held no fear. Only ambition.

A few minutes later, my bedroom door opened.

Ethan walked in carrying a warm glass of milk and my pills. His face was back to his gentle, loving mask.

"Stella, did she wake you? The new driver doesn’t know the rules. I’ve already fired her." He knelt by the bed, holding the milk to my lips.

I looked at him, choosing not to call him out.

"Don’t fire her. Young people bring energy. This place is too dead anyway," I said, taking a sip.

Ethan’s eyes darkened instantly. He grabbed my wrist, his voice tight. "You like energy? I can invite crowds over! Are you bored of me, Stella? You can’t think that way!"

His obsessive paranoia was acting up again.

"I’m not," I replied quietly. "I just don’t want you isolating yourself for my sake."

Ethan stared at me for a long time before letting out a cold laugh. "Everyone else is trash compared to you, Stella. Don't try to push me away."

After breakfast, Ethan pushed my wheelchair to the conservatory.

It was supposed to be a stroll, but really, he just pushed me around his expensive orchids, keeping me in his sight.

"Sir, I need your signature on this urgent contract."

A sweet voice broke the silence.

Chloe had changed into a tight pencil skirt, holding a folder as she strutted in. Her skirt was incredibly short, showing off her long, toned legs.

Ethan’s face fell. "Who let you in? Get out!"

Chloe bit her lip, her eyes turning red. "Sir, it’s really urgent. And... I’m your assistant. It’s my job to report to you."

She emphasized the word "assistant," her eyes darting to me with a hint of challenge.

I leaned back in my wheelchair, enjoying the show.

Afraid I would get angry, Ethan stood up, snatched the folder, and roared in her face, "I said get out! Are you deaf?"

Chloe took a step back, tears finally rolling down her cheeks.

"Ethan..." she whimpered.

"Shut up!" Ethan raised his hand, looking like he was about to strike her.

"Ethan," I called out. My voice wasn't loud, but it stopped him instantly.

He turned around, his face filled with panic. "Stella, don’t be mad. I’ll make her disappear."

"I'm not mad," I said, rolling my wheelchair toward them.

I looked at Chloe’s young, plump face, and my eyes landed on the necklace hidden beneath her collar.

It was a rare pink diamond. Ethan had bought it at an auction last month for fifty million dollars. The media had reported it as a gift for his beloved, disabled wife.

So, he gave it to his "assistant" instead.

"If it’s urgent, sign it," I said, looking up at Ethan. "I’m tired anyway. I want to rest."

Ethan threw the folder right at Chloe’s face, turned, and grabbed my wheelchair handles. "I’ll take you back. No stupid contract is more important than you."

But as the wheelchair turned, I caught the reflection in the glass dome.

Ethan’s hand, hidden behind his back, was squeezing Chloe’s fingers twice in a reassuring gesture.

And Chloe was staring at my back with a victorious smile.

I looked down at my numb right leg. It was so absurd.

Ethan, you wanted me to be your pure, holy goddess in a cage, but you wanted her to be your wild filly in the meadows.

You’re too greedy.

Too bad I’m not playing this game anymore.

Back in my room, I told him I wanted to nap and kicked him out.

I opened my laptop and began deleting every trace of my existence from the hard drive.

Photos, diaries, our shared plans for the future—all dragged into the shredder and permanently erased.

Thirty-six hours left.