Chapter 2 Caught Red Handed

Stella drove her modest black Volkswagen straight through the gates of the Hookwood Research Institute.

The moment she stepped inside the main office building, Lainey Lewis, her senior colleague, marched up and grabbed her by the wrist. "You're seriously here to submit the application? What's going on, Stella? You didn't reply to my messages. You can't just make a decision like this on a whim. This project isn't some experiment, and you should've at least discussed it with Marc."

A sharp ache rose in Stella's chest, but she remained silent.

Instead, she unlocked her phone, scrolled to a WhatsApp conversation, and handed it over.

Dozens of provocative messages and suggestive images stared back-sent more than once. One photo in particular left nothing to the imagination.

Lainey glanced at the screen, then immediately shoved the phone back into Stella's hands, her eyes blazing. "That bastard! If it weren't for your patents back then, his company wouldn't have even made it past launch. And now he's cheating on you? Come on, we're going back. I swear I'll make him crawl on his knees begging for mercy."

Stella quickly caught her arm. "No. That won't be necessary."

"What do you mean, not necessary? After what he's done? You're just going to stand there and let him get away with it?"

Her voice was shaking, but Stella's was cool and even.

"Let him off? Never." She slid her phone back into her coat pocket. "Facing him head-on would be far too easy. I want him to suffer... to truly regret everything."

Lainey said nothing more. She knew exactly the kind of person Stella was.

Brilliant in the lab. Honest to a fault. But if someone pushed her beyond her limits, she'd never let it go quietly. She'd bounce back when they least expected it-with precision and force.

They walked together toward the administrative office, and the form submission went smoothly. A few steps, a couple of stamps, and everything was nearly finalized-just awaiting the final review.

Before she left, Stella volunteered to attend an academic seminar on behalf of the institute and gather the necessary materials.

By 3:30 p.m., the event at the Grace Hotel had wrapped up. Holding a folder against her chest, Stella stepped out of the lobby, making her way toward the parking lot when a familiar, lazy chuckle reached her ears.

"Come on now, be good."

Her body stiffened at once. The moment she heard that voice, she slowly turned around. A wave of betrayal crashed over her, as if the ground beneath her had shifted without warning.

Marc had his arm wrapped around a long-haired woman with a slim waist, guiding her through the entrance of the hotel. The woman chirped, "I miss you... miss you so much," her voice syrupy and intimate.

As she said it, she leaned into Marc, her lips trailing from his earlobe down his neck, her red lipstick smudging along his skin.

Marc laughed, low and fond, drawing her even closer, his palm firmly resting at the curve of her waist.

Stella's vision blurred for a second, her chest tightening.

So this was where the woman had followed him-to this very hotel-and they couldn't even wait until nightfall.

Then, through the slowly spinning glass of the revolving door, their eyes met.

Marc's gaze was dark and full of desire, while Stella's eyes were calm and distant, with a hint of mockery.

The air between them suddenly felt heavy.

The woman noticed Stella too. But instead of looking startled, she simply smiled smugly, then turned and kissed Marc again-this time deeper, more deliberate, as if marking her territory.

A bitter taste rose in Stella's throat. Her stomach churned with nausea. She turned away, refusing to witness the spectacle any longer.

She reached for her car door, but before she could get into the car, a hand stopped her from behind. Marc had chased after her, a little breathless, and the smell of that woman's bold perfume still clung to him-strong enough to make her sick.

"Let go!" Stella tried to shake him off, but the door wouldn't budge.

Marc didn't say a word-he just grabbed her waist and pushed her into the back seat, sliding in right after. His sharp features looked tense, and his eyes flickered with a strange mix of anxiety and impatience. "Stella, please, let me explain."

With nowhere to run, Stella shifted away and spoke in a frozen tone. "Wipe that lipstick off your mouth before you start talking."

Marc's face fell. His hand flew to his mouth without thinking, eyes flashing with a hint of panic. "The Marina Horizon deal's in trouble. I've been stressing over the funding and reached out to Nova Holdings. Haley Smith-she's the daughter of a board member of Nova Holdings. She doesn't speak our language well and had been drinking. I was just making sure she got back to the hotel."

His tone was gentle, and he leaned in the way he always did when he wanted to charm her. "She's from Achury. People in her country are pretty relaxed, you know that. I swear I'll be more careful. Don't be upset, okay? I'll make it up to you."

Stella looked at him, her eyes sharp and cold. "So... is that how you secure investments? By getting that close to their daughters?"

There was no shouting, no tears.

Stella spoke with a chilling calm, too composed to be angry. Her quiet words stripped every excuse from Marc's mouth, leaving them meaningless.

That same heavy emptiness crashed into him again. Frustrated, he pulled at his tie, trying to breathe. "Stella, come on. It's for work. Can you not blow this out of proportion?"

Stella almost laughed.

She hadn't even raised her voice.

Did he want her to throw the photos in his face to make it count as drama?

The love she'd held onto all these years now burned like a blade in her chest.

"If you're done with me, Marc, just be honest. I won't hold on-I'll give you the divorce you want."

Why did he have to play games? Why lie?

Right after those words left her mouth, Marc grabbed her shoulder-hard.

His eyes were ice. "Don't ever say that. We promised-no matter what, we'd work through it. Divorce is not an option. Don't even mention it."

Work it out?

He had already slept with someone else. What was left to fix now?

It felt like she was trapped in a web of thorns. Every breath, every movement cut deeper.

Suddenly, Marc's phone rang. He checked it, frowned, and declined the call.

But Stella caught the name on the screen. "Sweetheart Wild Thing."

Before he could tuck it away, the phone lit up again-this time, WhatsApp messages popping up. The sender's name? "Sizzling Baby."

"Baby, I'm in pain."

"I need you. Come now."

"I'm bleeding... am I going to die?"

Three texts, all in Achure, one after another.