Chapter 3

Stella POV

I was forced to look up, my pale face covered in cold sweat, a trickle of blood even escaping my lip.

I looked at Ethan’s furious face, and a very weak smile suddenly touched my lips.

“Ethan, this heat… it’s not even a fraction of what Chloe endured,” my voice was hoarse, every word laced with the taste of blood. “I deserve this.”

Ethan’s whole body stiffened. He stared at my lifeless eyes, an unprecedented panic seemingly welling up inside him.

I didn’t resist, didn’t explain. I was like a rapidly decaying husk, ready to scatter with the wind at any moment.

“You think I’ll go soft if you pretend to be half-dead?” Ethan gritted his teeth, then violently shoved me to the floor. “Stella, you can never repay what you owe Chloe in this lifetime! Keep drawing! If you don’t finish, you won’t eat today!”

With that, he turned and strode away, his retreating figure carrying a hint of desperation.

The iron door slammed shut again.

I lay on the floor, staring at the pool of blood I had just coughed up, my eyes terrifyingly calm.

I roughly wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve and crawled back to the table.

Soon.

Just a little longer, and it would all be over.

…

The torment in the basement continued for a full week.

I was halfway through the blueprints, and my body had already wasted away. My once-fitting clothes now hung loosely on me, as if a gust of wind could blow me over.

That evening, the iron door suddenly opened.

Ethan walked in, tossing a delicate gift box at me.

“Change, you’re coming with me.”

I didn’t ask where. I mechanically opened the box; inside was a black evening gown.

Half an hour later, I followed Ethan into a Maybach.

The car finally stopped in front of New York’s most luxurious private club. A high-profile charity gala was being held there tonight, attended by prominent figures.

Ethan didn’t wait for me; he got out directly. I took a deep breath, suppressing the severe pain in my stomach, and followed him in my high heels.

The moment I entered the banquet hall, the noisy venue instantly fell silent.

Countless eyes fell on me, filled with undisguised contempt, dislike, and mocking curiosity.

In this circle, who didn’t know I was a wicked woman who had killed her friend to save her own life? Who didn’t know I was now just a pathetic plaything by Ethan’s side?

“How does she even have the nerve to show her face?”

“Ethan’s ruthless, bringing his enemy along to torment her daily. If it were me, I’d have killed her ages ago.”

“I heard she’s designing Chloe’s memorial hall. Tsk, tsk, the killer building a memorial hall—how ironic.”

The hushed whispers were like poisoned needles, pricking my ears.

I lowered my head, my hands clutching my dress, my nails almost digging into my flesh.

Ethan stood not far away, a glass of red wine in hand, watching with cold eyes. He had brought me here precisely to endure this. It was my deserved punishment.

Just then, a young man in a floral shirt walked over, holding a cup.

It was Caleb Montgomery, a rich heir from the wealthy Montgomery family. He had once fiercely pursued Chloe.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Stella, the great designer?” Caleb scrutinized me, his eyes cold. “So, you killed Chloe. Don’t you have nightmares when you sleep?”

I didn't speak, just took a step back.

“Why are you hiding?” Caleb sneered, then suddenly flung the piping hot coffee in his hand directly at my right hand!

“Ah!”

I wasn't prepared. The scalding coffee instantly reddened the back of my hand, and the piercing pain made me cry out.

My right hand was my drawing hand!

“Oops, so sorry, my hand slipped.” Caleb offered a insincere smile, then his eyes turned vicious. “But that hand, stained with Chloe’s blood, deserves to be crippled anyway!”

With that, he actually raised his foot and stomped hard on my scalded right hand!