Chapter 3 Just A Friend

It was like Marc believed she couldn't read Achure at all-he didn't bother hiding the screen and typed a swift "On my way" before shutting off his phone without a word of hesitation.

"Stella, I've got something urgent to handle. If you can't help, at least stay out of the way. Be good, alright?" He said softly, brushing her hair as if she were a child.

Then he turned and walked away without once looking back. She just sat there and let him go.

It felt like something inside her had been torn to pieces-too much pain to feel anything at all.

She dropped the conference materials off at the institute for recordkeeping, then quietly headed home without another word.

Marc didn't return for the next three days, and she didn't call.

Not even once. There was nothing left to say.

While waiting for her final approval, she kept herself occupied by sorting through her things-anything to keep her mind from collapsing.

The storage room was a shrine to their years together-handwritten notes from their first confession, the lopsided pottery they made on their first date, a small heart-shaped stone from a mountain night sky, and rows of framed photos bundled by year. Even the Polaroid cameras were neatly arranged from oldest to newest.

Stella had always been sentimental-she kept these things, hoping one day they'd sit together as old souls, laughing over the past.

But now, it all felt like some cruel joke. Without hesitation, she tossed the keepsakes into the fireplace and watched them burn.

As for the expensive gifts-diamonds, luxury watches, delicate necklaces, and even the wedding ring-she lined them up, took photos, and messaged her contact at the resale boutique. She told him to clear them all out.

When she saw the empty jewelry box, it finally sank in-love, no matter how glittering, was worthless once tainted by betrayal.

After another two days, she got the news that her application for joining the closed-door research project had been approved.

She had ten quiet days before the project would begin.

Wanting to stock up on essentials, she changed clothes and headed to the mall. But as she came down the escalator with her shopping bags, she caught sight of a scene that stopped her in her tracks.

There stood Jazlyn Walsh-her always-critical mother-in-law-smiling warmly and clinging to that Haley woman's arm like they were old friends. The affection on her face was a stab to the gut.

And next to them was Marc, the same man who'd disappeared for days, carefully slipping a glittering diamond bracelet onto Haley's wrist with all the tenderness he used to reserve for her.

They looked complete-like a picture-perfect family. One that didn't include her.

When Haley nodded with delight, Jazlyn praised her taste with a sparkle in her eye and casually handed over a black card for payment.

But to Stella, the moment was soaked in bitter irony.

That black card belonged to her. It was her money being spent.

She had earned those privileges... deep discounts, first picks from new collections, all because of her close friendship with the brand's director.

What was meant as a thoughtful gesture to bring her and Jazlyn closer was now being used to flatter Marc's mistress.

Without hesitation, Stella marched up to the counter, yanked the card from the stunned saleswoman's hand, and said calmly, "Sorry. This card's no longer valid."

The employee blinked in confusion. "Ma'am, that's a premium card. It doesn't expire, and it can't be canceled..."

"Oh, really?" Stella broke the card clean in half and tossed it into the nearby trash without blinking. "It's canceled now."

Jazlyn's fury exploded. She slapped Stella hard across the cheek and hissed, "What's gotten into you? Do you even realize how disgraceful you're being?"

The Walsh family carried a spotless reputation, and Marc had always been praised as a prodigy in finance.

From the very beginning, when Stella and Marc had only just started dating, Jazlyn had treated her with indifference. And after the wedding, that coldness only grew. No matter how hard Stella tried to earn her approval, a warm smile never came.

She had always kept quiet, not wanting to put Marc in a tough spot.

But that patience-built on love-had finally run dry.

She had no reason to tolerate it anymore.

Then, suddenly, two crisp slaps rang out, landing squarely on Marc's face.

The noise silenced everyone around them.

This was Marc Walsh-the man hailed in financial circles like a legend, and now he stood, red-cheeked, slapped in broad daylight.

"Stella!" Jazlyn shouted, livid. She rolled up her sleeves as if ready to storm forward and retaliate.

However, Stella stood her ground, her chin lifted high. "You lay a hand on me again, and I'll hit him twice as hard. Want to test me?"

"You! You..." Jazlyn was so furious she clutched her chest for breath. "Marc! Look at her! How can you let her act like such a shrew?"

Stella turned toward Marc with a cold smirk. "Tell me, Marc-didn't I have every reason to slap you?"

Marc's expression hardened, his jaw clenched. He stepped forward and seized her wrist, muttering under his breath, "Stella, that's enough. Just calm down. You're making a scene."

Suddenly, Haley rushed into Marc's arms, dragging his hand to her waist and whining in Achure about Stella's outrageous behavior.

She clung to him like ivy, calling him "darling" again and again, as if she wanted to dissolve into his skin.

Marc murmured soft reassurances in Achure, speaking to her gently.

The sight of them, so close and cozy, made Stella laugh in disbelief.

Then, out of nowhere, Stella spoke-her Achure fluent, her tone sharp.

"If you're bold enough to be someone's mistress, at least have the decency not to play the innocent. You're sleeping with another woman's husband-don't even think about denying it. If Achure's not working for you, we can switch. I speak sixteen languages. You pick one, and I'll keep up. If I lose the argument, I'll admit defeat."

Haley's face turned a deep red.

She had clearly never imagined Stella could speak Achure so perfectly. Hadn't Marc said his wife was just some regular office employee?

Marc's face darkened, his tone rigid. "Stella... when did you learn Achure?"

The moment hit her like a knife twisting deeper into an open wound.

Her lips curled into a bitter smile.

"Ah, Marc, you must really love me, huh?" The sarcasm in her voice was razor-sharp. "Go on, enjoy your little shopping spree. I won't get in your way."

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Marc quickly moved to follow, but Jazlyn and Haley each latched onto one of his arms, stopping him.

"Marc, just divorce that shameless woman already! How dare she lay a hand on you?" Jazlyn snapped.

She had said those exact words countless times before, and Marc had always ignored them. But for some reason, this time, they felt different. They got under his skin.

"That's between me and her," he muttered, shaking them off and hurrying after Stella.

Luckily, he managed to catch her just as she reached her car. "Stella."

The second his fingers touched her wrist, a wave of nausea hit her, and she shook it off in disgust. "What is it, Mr. Walsh? Done playing house with your wild little darling?"

Marc's face twisted in frustration. "Haley's just a friend. Why are you being so jealous? Can't you be mature for once? Do you have to humiliate us in public?"

Stella let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.

Of course. Somehow, in the end, it always circled back to being her fault. How convenient.

"So let me get this straight," she snapped. "Even if I walk in on you and your side piece in bed, I should smile, close the curtains, and stand outside to protect the family name?"

His grip on her wrist tightened, his eyes flashing. "How many times do I have to say it? She's just a friend!"

"A friend, is it?" Stella's tone dripped with irony as she looked him up and down.

Then her gaze turned playful, laced with something sharper like seduction or maybe vengeance.

"Alright then, I'll go find myself a friend too. And I'll make sure to do everything you and Haley have done-every last thing." She leaned in slightly, her voice a whisper dipped in venom. "And you, dear husband... don't get jealous. That wouldn't be fair, now would it?"