Chapter 4 Saving her father

Stella's POV

The warmth of the massage oil seeped into my skin, and I let out a slow sigh, sinking deeper into the padded spa bed. Soft piano music floated in the air, mingling with the faint scent of lavender and eucalyptus. For once, life felt exactly the way I had always envisioned it-luxurious, effortless, and entirely in my control.

Beside me, my twenty-two-year-old daughter, Chloe, lay with her eyes closed, enjoying her massage. She had always been my pride, my mirror image-golden hair, flawless skin, and a smile that could melt the most guarded of hearts. And now, she was engaged to Jackson Cornwell, the heir to one of the wealthiest families in the country.

The Cornwell fortune had finally tilted in my favor. Every sleepless night, every calculated move, every whisper in Chloe's ear-it had all led to this moment. I intended to enjoy every drop of the life I had fought for, no matter who had to suffer in the process.

"How's everything with Jackson?" I asked, tilting my head toward her as a masseuse pressed into the knots in my shoulders. "Still going according to plan?"

"Yes, Mother. "Yes, Mother. Everything is going perfectly," she murmured, a sly smile curving her lips.

"Good. And remember-I "lowered my voice"-"You "must get pregnant as soon as possible. Men like Jackson, with too much money and too many options, need an anchor. If he has a child with you, he'll never dare betray you."

Chloe opened her eyes briefly, her smile widening. "I know, Mother. I will."

Obedient, just as I'd raised her. Unlike that insufferable Susan-my stepdaughter-who had been too naïve and prudish to keep a man like Jackson interested. No intimacy, no seduction-she had practically handed him over to Chloe without realizing it. Her stupidity was our fortune.

I sat up slightly, stretching. "Lest I forget, I'll have your father sign over the house and the other properties to you. With his health failing, he can't manage his affairs anymore, which is... convenient for us." My lips curved in satisfaction. "I'll see to it that Susan gets nothing."

Chloe's laugh was soft and rich, the sound of victory. We clinked our champagne glasses-brought to us by the spa's staff-and I said, "To endless wealth, darling."

After the spa, we drove to the high-end shopping district, where polished glass storefronts gleamed under the midday sun. We spent hours drifting between boutiques, jewelry stores, and salons, basking in the approving stares of salespeople who knew the weight of our credit cards.

It was in the middle of selecting a diamond bracelet for Chloe that my phone rang. Susan's name flashed on the screen. I frowned, my positive mood curdling.

I answered with a sneer. "Hello? What do you want, and why are you calling me?"

Her voice was shaky, choked with tears. "It's Dad-he collapsed. He's not responding. Please, can you come? We're at the hospital."

I let a beat of silence pass, feigning concern. "Oh... how unfortunate," I murmured, even though my heart fluttered with excitement.

"We need money for his surgery," she rushed out. "Please, can you help cover the bills?"

I clicked my tongue, bored already. "Well, I sympathize, dear, but I have no money to spare. Handle it the way you usually do." Before she could beg further, I hung up.

Inside, my delight bloomed like a flower. If Steve died, everything-every last property, account, and asset-would be mine. And I would finally be free to be with Samson, my lover.

It had been years since. Years of sneaking around and hiding our relationship. Steve had once been a man worth desiring-handsome, wealthy, and full of ambition. Now he was frail, useless, and incapable of fulfilling even the simplest marital duties. I could barely stand the sight of him.

If fate didn't take him soon, I might have to help it along.

The truth was, I wasn't even his legal wife. Rose, my former best friend, had been the real Mrs. Brooks until I took care of her. With one slip of poison in her tea, I transformed into the grieving friend who consoled her widower. Steve had been easy to manipulate-especially when I told him I was carrying his child. He married me quickly, too blinded by guilt and grief to see through my lies.

I smiled at the memory. Foolish man.

Back home, I paced my bedroom, phone in hand, waiting for news of Steve's death. Earlier that day, I'd already transferred the last of his funds into my account. Without that money, Susan wouldn't be able to pay for the surgery. The clock was ticking.

When I finally heard the front door open, I schooled my features into a mask of concern and stepped into the hall. Susan stood there, looking worn but still irritatingly beautiful, her resemblance to her late mother as sharp as ever.

"Good evening, child," I said smoothly. "How's your father?"

She met my gaze, her voice steady. "He's doing better. We were able to save him."

For a heartbeat, I froze. Inside, it felt as though a blade had been driven straight into my chest. But I forced a relieved smile. "That's... wonderful news."

She nodded, moving past me toward her room.

I turned away, my nails digging into my palm. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Samson and I would have to move faster and strike harder. Next time, there would be no miraculous recovery.

Next time, Steven Brooks would die.