Chapter 3

Stella Hart POV

I went to a law firm.

I placed the studio equity transfer agreement in front of the lawyer.

"Help me draft a free transfer agreement. I want to split all my shares in the studio equally between Ethan Reid and Adrian Cross."

The lawyer was stunned. "Miss Hart, you founded this studio. All the core design patents are under your name. If you transfer them for free now, you're essentially leaving with nothing!"

"I know," my tone was calm. "Do as I say. The sooner the better."

This studio was something we founded together after graduating from college.

Back then, to secure investment for me, Ethan and Adrian drank until they had bleeding ulcers and ended up in the hospital. From their hospital beds, they held my hand and said, "Stella, this will be your business empire. We're just knights working for you."

But now, the knights had found a new princess.

Walking out of the law firm, the sky opened up with heavy rain.

I didn't have an umbrella and stood under an awning waiting for my car.

A black Maybach stopped in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Adrian's cold, sharp face.

"Get in." His tone was curt, commanding.

I didn't move. "No need. I called a car."

Adrian pushed open the door and yanked me into the vehicle, his movements so rough they hurt my wrist.

The cabin had the heat on, but it felt suffocating.

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Adrian lit a cigarette and took an irritated drag. "Isabella's leg got burned. The doctor said it might scar. She's a girl. Do you know how devastating this is for her?"

I looked out at the rain, my voice completely flat. "So what?"

"You!" Adrian was infuriated by my cold demeanor. "Stella Hart, you weren't like this before! You used to be kind and understanding. You'd cry over an injured stray cat. How did you become so heartless?"

Kind? Understanding?

I found it ironic.

When I was twenty, I broke my shin protecting Adrian.

Back then, Adrian held me and cried, swearing he'd never let me suffer any grievance for the rest of his life.

Now, just because I didn't help Isabella, who fell on her own, I'd become a heartless villain.

"Adrian," I turned to look at him, my gaze calm, "my main show spot at Paris Fashion Week next month. You gave it to Isabella, didn't you?"

Adrian's hand holding the cigarette paused, his eyes shifting away. "Isabella needs a chance to prove herself. You're already a top designer in the industry. You don't need this one opportunity. Just consider it... compensation for pushing her today."

Compensation.

The design drafts I stayed up three nights to create, the show I'd been preparing for an entire year. It all became a casual "compensation."

"Fine." I didn't argue, didn't even show a trace of anger. "Give it to her."

Adrian froze, seemingly not expecting me to agree so easily.

He looked at me suspiciously, trying to find some sign of anger or grievance on my face, but there was nothing.

Just calm like a stagnant pool of water.