Chapter 3

Ethan Cole had paid two hundred thousand dollars for her mother's sculpture, a "blank check" gesture to demonstrate his devotion to Chloe. He' d used an extreme, financially reckless measure just to give Chloe what she momentarily desired.

Stella had seen it all before, in her first life. His casual disregard for money when it came to Chloe, contrasted with his meticulous accounting of every penny spent on Stella or their "transactional" life.

She had approached him after the auction, before Chloe's "accident."

"Ethan, please," she' d said, her voice low, desperate. "That sculpture... it was my mother' s last piece. It means everything to me. I' ve given up so much for you, for us. My dreams, my work... can' t you let me have this one thing?" It was a final, vulnerable appeal, a plea to the man she once thought she knew.

He had looked at her, his expression unyielding. "Stella, Chloe likes it. She feels a connection to it. Her happiness is important to me." His voice was cold, dismissive. He prioritized Chloe' s fleeting, manufactured desire over Stella' s deep, genuine connection.

The memory was a fresh stab of pain.

And then, the shattering.

Chloe' s feigned clumsiness, the immediate, irreparable destruction of "A Mother' s Embrace."

Stella felt a surge of cold anger, a sharp contrast to the devastation that welled within her. It was a senseless loss, a deliberate act of cruelty disguised as an accident.

She walked back to where the pieces lay scattered on the floor. Some guests were murmuring, casting sympathetic glances. Others looked annoyed by the disruption.

Chloe was still weeping into Ethan' s shoulder. "I' m so, so sorry, Uncle E! It just...slipped! Can it be fixed? Stella, I' m so sorry, I know it was your mother' s..." She turned her tear-streaked face to Stella, her eyes wide with a plea for absolution. A public display of repentance, demanding personal forgiveness on the spot.

Stella ignored her. She knelt, carefully gathering the larger fragments of ceramic. The smooth, cool curves her mother' s hands had shaped, now sharp and broken.

Ethan detached himself from Chloe and strode towards Stella. His face was a mask of fury.

"Stella, what the hell do you think you' re doing?" he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "Chloe is distraught! She feels terrible! And you' re just... ignoring her? Can' t you see how upset she is? You need to tell her it' s okay!"

He was accusing her of causing Chloe distress. Demanding she forgive Chloe immediately for destroying something precious to Stella. The injustice of it was staggering.

Stella looked up at him, her eyes filled with a grief and anger so profound it left no room for tears. "She destroyed my mother' s last work, Ethan. And you' re worried about her feelings?"

"It was an accident!" Ethan insisted, his voice rising. "Chloe would never intentionally break something so valuable! Your attitude is what' s upsetting her!"

As if on cue, Chloe let out a louder sob and swayed, clutching her head. "Oh... I feel... dizzy..." She collapsed gracefully against Ethan, who caught her with a look of alarm.

"Chloe!" He glared at Stella. "See what you' ve done?"

He scooped Chloe into his arms, his face a mixture of fury and concern. He started to carry her away, then paused, looking back at the pieces Stella was still trying to gather.

With a sudden, violent movement, he kicked out. His expensive shoe connected with the fragile arrangement of ceramic shards Stella had painstakingly collected. They scattered again, some skittering across the polished floor, one piece flying and hitting the wall with a small, sharp crack.

He had destroyed her attempt to even salvage the remnants.

Then he turned and rushed Chloe from the room, presumably to find a quiet place for her to "recover."

Stella stared at the scattered pieces, the new damage.

That was it. The final, definitive act.

He had not only allowed Chloe to destroy her mother' s legacy but had then, with his own foot, desecrated Stella' s attempt to mourn, to hold onto even the broken parts.

A profound indifference. That' s what he felt for her. No, it was more than indifference. It was contempt.

Any lingering embers of love, of hope, of shared history, died in that moment.

She felt a cold, clean break.

A resolute detachment settled over her.

She stood up, brushing dust from her gown. She would not give them the satisfaction of her tears.

She walked away from the shattered remains of "A Mother's Embrace," leaving them for the staff to clear.

Her feelings for Ethan Cole were now as broken and irreparable as that sculpture.

Back in her apartment – the apartment that was supposed to become their apartment after the wedding – Stella began to pack. Not for a honeymoon, but for an escape.

Project Stardust. New Mexico. Ten years.

She went through her belongings methodically. Clothes, books, personal items.

Then she turned to the gifts Ethan had given her over the years. Jewelry, mostly. Expensive, tasteful, but ultimately impersonal. A diamond necklace for her birthday, chosen by his assistant. A designer watch for their engagement anniversary, probably suggested by a catalogue. Each one a carefully calibrated gesture, devoid of genuine thought or affection.

She packed them all into a velvet-lined box.

All except one.

A vintage Patek Philippe watch. A Cole family heirloom. It was meant to be her "something old" for the wedding. His mother had given it to her, her eyes soft with genuine affection, speaking of tradition and welcoming Stella into the family.

Stella held it for a moment. It was beautiful, a testament to craftsmanship and history. But it was his history, his family. Not hers. Not anymore.

She would return this one personally. Or rather, have it delivered directly to his office. A final, symbolic severing of ties.

As she was sealing the box of returned jewelry, she heard voices from the hallway. Ethan' s. He was on the phone, his tone crisp and businesslike, but with an undercurrent she now recognized as conspiratorial.

He was standing just outside her apartment door, clearly assuming she wasn't home or was out for the evening. The door was slightly ajar; she hadn' t fully closed it when she came in, her mind still reeling from the gala.

"...yes, the discreet, long-term contraceptives," Ethan was saying. "Make sure they' re the kind that can be easily... incorporated. Perhaps into her daily vitamins. I have no intention of having children with her, Doctor. Chloe will be my sole heir. This marriage is a formality, a business arrangement that needs to appear legitimate for a few years. Nothing more."

Stella froze.

Vitamins.

In her first life, after they were married, Ethan had insisted she take a special blend of "vitamins" prescribed by a private doctor he knew. For her "well-being," he' d said.

She had miscarried twice. Small, early, devastating losses. The doctors had been puzzled. She had been heartbroken, blaming herself, her body.

Now, the pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity.

The "vitamins." The miscarriages. His cold indifference to her grief.

It wasn't bad luck. It wasn't her body failing.

It was him.

He had been poisoning her, preventing her from carrying a child to term. Ensuring Chloe would be his sole heir.

The shock was a physical blow, stealing her breath. Horror, cold and sharp, pierced through her. Disgust roiled in her stomach.

This man, this monster, had not only destroyed her dreams and her mother' s legacy, but he had also systematically, secretly, destroyed her chances of motherhood, her unborn children.

The depth of his betrayal was bottomless.