She Chose Herself This Time

Chapter 1 No One Would Even Know

Covered in blood, Stella Spencer sat in the examination room of Seabrook General Hospital. She watched numbly as the nurse inserted a needle into the back of her hand.

"Make way! Make way!" The air was heavy with the mix of blood and gasoline. A stretcher rushed past her, and she caught a glimpse of the man on it.

His clothes were almost completely drenched in blood, and a large share of windshield was embedded in his badly bent calf.

The doctors' voices became distant and hazy, fading in and out. The wounded arrived like a tide, each new stretcher punctuated by the endless echoes of wails and cries.

"Where are your family members? Have they arrived?" The room fell silent, as if everyone was waiting for a reply. But, unfortunately, things didn't not always go as one hoped.

"Ma'am, your injuries aren't as serious as others, but this was a chain collision after all. You should contact your family. It'll be better to have someone with you for a more thorough check," the nurse gently advised. Stella nodded gratefully, took out her phone and made the call.

However, when she heard the voice on the other end, her heart sank. "Ms. Spencer, Mr. Lloyd is currently in a meeting and can't take your call. May I ask what this is regarding?" It was Sean Leach, Ernest Lloyd's assistant.

Ernest had demanded that their marriage remain strictly confidential. Thus, even after seven years, his assistant always formally addressed Stella as "Ms. Spencer," never acknowledging her as "Mrs. Lloyd."

Before Stella could say a word, another woman's sweet voice came through the receiver. "Mr. Leach, is Ernest almost ready? We need to set off. Irene is getting impatient downstairs."

"Alright, Ms. Jansen. I'll inform Mr. Lloyd immediately." The receiver was muffled, likely covered by a hand, but the voices still drifted through, clear enough to make out every word.

'Ms. Jansen? Sylvia Jansen? Ernest really can't get over her. Sean is such a snob. For her, he'll notify Ernest immediately. For me, Ernest is always in a meeting.' Stella smiled bitterly, a hint of sarcasm in her eyes.

'So everyone around Ernest has learned to lie for him. His precious Sylvia is right there by his side. And here I am, just the foolish Ms. Spencer, still thinking he might actually come,' Stella thought to herself.

Then, Ernest's familiar voice came from the other end, clearly uninterested. "Who is it? What's the matter?"

"It's Ms. Spencer, Mr. Lloyd. Nothing urgent." Sean replied, his tone neutral and professional.

Stella hung up first, for the first time. When she watched those critically injured people rushed past her, a deep sorrow rose in her chest. 'If it were me dying here tonight, no one would even know.'

As someone with allergies, Stella was always especially cautious about injections. In truth, it had even made her somewhat afraid of falling ill.

The nurse was very kind. Seeing that Stella was alone, she still made time to check occasionally for any allergic reactions, despite being extremely busy.

At one point, Stella faintly overheard the nurses whispering with sympathy, saying she had no one by her side and no one to care for her.

'Even strangers care more than my own husband. All Ernest has ever shown me is indifference,' she thought bitterly.

Then a dark impulse rose in her. She wanted to get more seriously injured and see if even her death would earn a single glance from Ernest.

She took out her phone and opened WhatsApp. The last message she had sent to Ernest was from three years ago, when she had been injured and hospitalized.

Staring at the message that had never been replied, she felt her heart aching even more. 'I've known how this ends since three years ago. Why would I want to try again?'

Back then, a large pane of glass suddenly fell from above. She rushed over to protect her daughter, Irene Lloyd, and was pierced all over by shards. Terrified by the blood, Irene hid in her arms, crying uncontrollably.

Yet now, that same frightened little girl was posting proudly on her Instagram about how the ice cream from Ms. Jansen was the most delicious in the world.

In the photo, Sylvia was beaming, under the fond gaze of Ernest. Irene stood between them, happily holding a giant ice cream. The picture was taken at the newly opened amusement park.

'So this is the place Sylvia mentioned on the phone, the place where they were going?' Stella couldn't quite describe what she was feeling. Surprisingly, she seemed utterly calm.

After finishing her IV and having her wounds treated, she picked up her medicine and left the hospital. She moved as if in a trance, her body there but her spirit elsewhere.

*****

When Stella arrived home, housekeeper Betty Wilson hurried over to greet her. "Mrs. Lloyd, you're back." Stella managed a faint smile. In this entire house, only Betty ever called her that.

When Betty noticed the medicine bag and Stella's sluggish pace, her face immediately straightened with concern. "Mrs. Lloyd, are you injured? What happened?"

"Just some bruises from a minor car accident. Nothing serious," Stella replied, her voice tired but calm.

"A car accident? That's always serious! Are you hurt? Did you see a doctor?" Betty asked, her voice full of worry.

'For seven years, Betty has always been so kind and caring. She treats me better than my own husband does.' The thought left a bitter taste in Stella's heart.

After reassuring Betty everything was fine, Stella slowly made her way upstairs. Then she overheard Betty on a phone call downstairs. "Mr. Lloyd, you should come home as soon as you can. Mrs. Lloyd has been in a car accident."

Stella paused in her steps. Whenever she needed to reach Ernest, she had to go through his work number, which almost always put her in touch with his assistant, Sean. Yet Betty could call his personal line directly.

Even at the hospital, when she was at her most vulnerable, it never crossed her mind to challenge this rule. She had accepted it completely. 'How terrifying, the power of habit,' she thought.

"Yes, Mrs. Lloyd doesn't appear seriously hurt, but she was definitely injured." Stella overheard Betty's words but didn't stay to hear more. Fighting through the pain, she made her way slowly back to the bedroom. She wanted to see if Ernest would actually come home.

Soon after, Betty came upstairs carrying a bowl of oatmeal, her face full of concern. "I've brought you something gentle on the stomach, Mrs. Lloyd. You need to keep your strength up while you recover. I've already reached Mr. Lloyd. He should be home soon to be with you." Stella nodded gratefully.

*****

However, the "soon" in Betty's words turned out to be three hours later. The sky had already grown dark when Ernest finally got back home. Hearing the sound of the car pulling in, Betty let out a sigh of relief and hurried to the door to greet him.

Ernest stepped inside, holding little Irene's hand. She trailed in with a whine, "Dad, Betty said Mom was okay. Why did we have to come home so fast? I didn't even see the light show. And Ms. Jansen was sad too. You saw that, right?"

Stella stood in the hallway, her body turning cold at the sound of their voices. Each cheerful word from the entrance cut deeper, leaving her numb and frozen where she stood.

Chapter 2 Mom Is Superwoman

Ernest patted Irene's head, his voice cool yet gentle. "We've had our fun for the day. Mom had a car accident. She needs us now."

"But Betty's already home. Can't she take care of Mom? We're not doctors. It's not like we can actually help," Irene said, her words striking Stella like a physical blow. "Besides, Dad, have you forgotten? Mom's superwoman. She doesn't even feel pain."

As Irene spoke, memories from three years ago flashed through Stella's mind like a film reel. Back then, a business rival of Ernest, aiming to sabotage a major deal of Lloyd Group, dropped a large pane of glass from a great height.

Stella protected Irene with her own body, taking the full impact. Shards of glass pierced deep into her skin. Irene was terrified by the sight of her mother covered in blood and burst into tears. To calm Irene, Stella lied and said she was a superwoman who couldn't feel any pain.

'Now the superwoman mom is injured and in pain, while all her own daughter cares about is some missing light show.' A bitter mix of emotions washed over Stella.

As if sensing something, Ernest looked up, his gaze lingering. Irene followed his glance and spotted Stella standing in the hallway upstairs.

She lowered her head, a little guilty, but still muttered defiantly, "See? I told you Mom was okay."

'Mom's always been so strong. She handles everything, no matter what. How could she really be hurt? Maybe we can still go back for the light show,' Irene thought, still sulking.

Watching Ernest head upstairs, Irene pouted but followed, her resentment growing. 'Mom did this on purpose. She isn't even hurt, but made Betty say it was serious. Now Ms. Jansen is upset, and so am I. What if Ms. Jansen never takes me out again?'

"You look pale. You should be resting, not standing around. I asked Betty to prepare some oatmeal. Have some when it's ready," Ernest said, his tone practical but lacking warmth.

'Oatmeal? Betty already made me some when I got home. And now my husband's care arrives three hours late,' Stella thought to herself.

But she said nothing. She simply nodded and turned back toward the bedroom, too weary to even speak of the pain.

Betty soon brought up a bowl of oatmeal. Worried it might be too bland, she also added some dried apricots to sweeten it. "You should have some too, Miss Irene, or you'll go to bed hungry," Betty added kindly.

Staring at the oatmeal in front of her, Irene pouted even more. 'We were supposed to go to a fancy dinner with Ms. Jansen. Now it's all ruined because of Mom's phone call.' But she didn't dare say it out loud. She knew Ernest would be furious if she did.

Stella had no appetite. Her body ached so badly that she couldn't even find a comfortable position to lie down. Noticing Stella's discomfort, Betty spoke up promptly, "Mr. Lloyd, Mrs. Lloyd is still injured. It's time to change her bandages."

Ernest's cold gaze swept over Stella. When he noticed a stain of blood seeping through her clothes, his brow furrowed slightly. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"

"There's nothing to say," Stella replied. She had long grown used to his indifference. Her heart had turned cold and numb from years of neglect.

As Betty brought out the medical kit, Ernest stood up and took it from her hands. "I'll handle it," he said. Betty nodded silently and left the room.

Ernest picked up the supplies and began unwrapping them. But just as he reached to undo Stella's pajama buttons, his special ringtone cut through the silence. Without hesitation, he set the supplies down and answered the call.

"Ernest, I've twisted my ankle. It really hurts. Could you ask Mr. Leach to take me to the hospital?" Sylvia's voice came through the receiver, trembling slightly with held-back tears.

Irene immediately put down the oatmeal she had barely touched, rushed over, and grabbed Ernest's arm. "Ms. Jansen is hurt? What's wrong? She can't handle pain. Dad, you have to go. Make sure she's okay."

Stella's heart tightened. As she looked at Irene, a dull, throbbing pain spread through her chest. 'Mom is a superwoman who doesn't feel pain. Ms. Jansen is someone who can't handle pain. How ironic.'

Ernest glanced at Stella. After a brief hesitation, he made his decision. "I'll have Betty come up and change your bandages. I'll be back as soon as I can."

With that, he placed the medical supplies back on the nightstand and turned to leave. Irene moved to follow, but Ernest stopped her. "Stay here with your Mom." He didn't give her a chance to argue before striding out of the room.

Irene stared at Stella's pale face, unsure where to look. 'Did I say something wrong,' she thought, guilt creeping in. "Mom, you're hurt and need to rest. I'll go back to my room," she mumbled, then ran out.

But before she even reached her room, the sound of her smartwatch dialing a number came through clearly. "Ms. Jansen, are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?"

Stella lay still. She had expected the suffocating feeling to linger, but to her surprise, she felt only a strange calm.

Although the bandages had been changed, the pain from her wound still made sleep impossible. Lying down put pressure on her injuries, so it was easier to just stand.

She got up and decided to go downstairs for a walk. Just as she reached the door, she heard the sound of a door opening nearby.

She went to the window and saw Irene, wrapped in a starry blanket, running toward the garage. The light of her smartwatch flickered faintly.

"Mr. Smith, hurry. Ms. Jansen wants the oatmeal from that shop in the west side of town," Irene said to the driver.

Stella slowly took out her phone and dialed a number she hadn't called in years. But after just two rings, the call was disconnected. A bitter smile touched her lips. As expected, she was not even as important as Betty.

Although Irene was not close to her, Stella couldn't bring herself to ignore her daughter completely. They were still bound by blood.

So she sent a text to Ernest, letting him know Irene had left the house. This time, the reply came quickly, with just two brief words, [Got it.]

Bored, Stella scrolled through her messages, realizing Ernest had contacted her less often than the spam ads in her inbox. She kept scrolling through her photos until the realization finally sank in.

Her entire daily life revolved around Ernest and Irene. There wasn't even a trace of herself in her own photos. She had always been the one behind the camera, documenting their lives, much like a quiet observer in what was meant to be her own marriage.

A sudden wave of rebellion washed over Stella. She deleted the photos one by one until the album was completely empty. And she still didn't find single photo of herself. In that moment, she gave up. It was time to wake up.

In the silent night, she packed her things numbly, then stared at the printed divorce papers. When she reached the custody section, she hesitated for a long time.

Finally, she wrote four words, [I give up everything.] Then she placed the signed agreement and her wedding ring into a file bag. A deep exhaustion settled within her. She couldn't bring herself to choose love again.

Chapter 3 She Wants A Divorce

As the morning mist began to condense into dew, Stella moved her stiff body a bit. She glanced at her call history. All those calls to Ernest were unanswered.

A faint, sarcastic smile touched her lips. 'If he knew I was calling him to sign the divorce papers, would he still ignore me?'

Stella refused to wait any longer. She carried her luggage downstairs. Seeing Stella, Betty hurried out of the kitchen with her apron still on, her eyes full of concern. "Mrs. Lloyd, where are you going?"

"Betty, I'm leaving to look for a job. I may not be coming back. This is for you. It's a gift for everything you've done to me," Stella said, pressing a small velvet box into Betty's hands.

Inside lay a necklace Stella designed for a competition seven years ago. But an unexpected pregnancy enraged Ernest, who shattered it to pieces.

It was Betty who stayed up through the night, carefully gathering each gem and painstakingly reassembling the necklace. Betty returned the fixed necklace to Stella, but from that day, Stella's career had come to a halt.

Over the years, Betty had been the only one who truly cared for her and the only one who ever called her "Mrs. Lloyd."

Stella had kept the necklace as a memory of her old self. But now that she had chosen to move on, she wanted to leave the past behind for good.

"Take care of yourself, Betty. Thank you for everything," Stella said softly, her voice warm but firm. "And from now on, if we meet again, just call me Stella."

Hearing this, Betty knew something was wrong. She immediately took out her phone to call Ernest, but the call was cut off after one ring. She tried again, only to be hung up on once more. Anxious, she looked up at Stella's retreating figure, her eyes lingering on the scar at nape of Stella's back.

That scar was from three years ago, on New Year's Eve. When Irene had knocked over a pot of boiling tea, Stella threw herself in front of the child to protect her.

In the end, the call still wouldn't connect. Betty slowly lowered her phone and made no further attempts. She simply stood there, quietly watching until Stella disappeared from view.

*****

Half an hour later, Stella stood outside a small apartment. As she turned the key and opened the door, a sense of familiarity and relief washed over her.

The minimalist style, the layout, and the colors she had always loved were all there. Even the air carried a faint, familiar scent she remembered. By the window, an unfinished painting rested on an easel, and hanging nearby was An Analysis of Mondrian's Compositions.

This was the dream apartment she had saved for years to buy during college. She had personally designed every detail of its layout. But after marrying Ernest, she rarely returned, except for the occasional visit to sketch out designs.

Stella set down her things and walked over to the easel. She ran her fingers lightly over the painting, as if seeing her nineteen-year-old self who was full of dreams. 'How could I ever let that go?' she wondered.

Her phone vibrated on the counter, ringing with the specific tone she had set for Noreen Lloyd. Stella answered, but before she could speak, a sharp young woman's voice came through, "Send me the high-end designs for this quarter by 10 o'clock."

Noreen Lloyd, Ernest's younger sister, dreamed of becoming a jewelry designer but lacked the talent. She always turned to Stella for design drawings. Initially, she had been polite, even pleading. So Stella reluctantly gave in, considering Noreen's connection with Ernest.

But over time, Noreen's pleas had hardened into demands. She not only asked for more designs, but also raised her standards, pushing Stella to complete everything from client commissions to competition entries. She even made Stella hide everything from Ernest and demanded award-winning results.

Stella had been struggling to balance household duties with Noreen's constant design requests. Sometimes she was so overwhelmed that she skipped meals and lost sleep. It was utter exhaustion. Even the recent car accident occurred because she had been rushing to deliver another design for Noreen.

On the other end, Noreen continued her complaints. "Seriously, must I always remind you? Can't you just send the design to me on your own?"

"I was in a car accident," Stella interrupted, no longer willing to listen to the complaints. There was a moment of silence on the line.

But just a few seconds later, Noreen let out a scornful laugh. "I heard that. You even used it to ruin Ernest's date with Sylvia. Stella, how low can you go? A car accident? Well, you're not dead, are you?"

"Let me be clear. I'm not Ernest. Your little games won't work on me. Send me the design. Now. If I actually win the award, I might even say something nice about you to Ernest. Otherwise..." she added coldly.

Stella had braced for coldness, but never imagined Noreen could be so cruel. "Otherwise just let Sylvia draw it for you. I'm done serving you." She hung up and blocked Noreen's number, giving Noreen no chance to respond.

Her hands trembled slightly. Anger stirred within her, yet so did a faint sense of relief. Over the years, she had given everything for Ernest and his family, receiving neither respect nor gratitude in return.

She had trapped herself in the love and devotion to Ernest, but moved only herself. Now the total disappointment finally woke her to her own foolishness.

Her eyes fell on the divorce agreement lying nearby. She picked it up. 'If he doesn't come home or answer my calls, I'll just deliver it to him myself,' she quietly made up her mind.

*****

Staring at the fingerprint lock on the private elevator at Lloyd Group, Stella suddenly remembered that in their second year of marriage, Ernest had downgraded her access rights to "visitor" level.

He said, "Mrs. Lloyd doesn't need these." After that, she never entered the company again. Luckily, her other fingerprint permissions within the building had never been revoked. She passed through unimpeded.

"Stella?" As the elevator door opened, Noreen's surprised voice came out. Without a glance in Noreen's direction, Stella stepped in and pressed the button for the top floor.

Noreen froze for a moment, then quickly regained her composure. With a sneer, she thrust out her hand arrogantly. "Hand it over."

"Hand what over?" Stella asked in confusion. She made no move to reach for her bag, her calm demeanor only adding to Noreen's irritation.

"Stop playing dumb. The design drawing for my competition," Noreen's words trailed off as her eyes widened in sudden alarm. "Don't tell me you didn't bring it."

Stella's expression remained unreadable. "It's not that I didn't bring it. I never even started it." Seeing the shock on Noreen's face, she added coolly, "Don't you prefer Sylvia as your sister-in-law anyway? Let her draw it for you. Why keep asking an outsider like me?"

The elevator door opened. Stella smiled faintly and stepped out. Noreen was about to swear, but she suddenly realized they had already reached the top floor.

'Could Stella come here to tell Ernest that she has been drawing all my designs all these years?' The thought sent a jolt of panic through Noreen. She rushed out and shouted. "Stella, wait!"

"Ms. Spencer, I'm sorry, but Mr. Lloyd really isn't available." Sean stood firmly in front of Ernest's office, looking at Stella with barely concealed disdain.

Stella was long accustomed to Sean's dismissive attitude. She handed the file bag over and said calmly, "Then please give this to Ernest, Mr. Leach."

Chapter 4 Make A Comeback

Sean was one of the few who knew about Stella and Ernest's relationship, and Ernest trusted him deeply. The sapphire tie clip Sean wore had in fact been picked out by Stella herself as a birthday gift for Ernest just a while ago.

At that very moment, the breaking news displayed on the large screen behind Stella glinted clearly in the sapphire's surface. [Sylvia Jansen, the rising star designer, and Ernest Lloyd, the CEO of Lloyd Group, are set to appear at next month's jewelry exhibition. Insiders suggest their relationship is about to reach a new level.]

Before Stella could snap out of her daze, Noreen caught up and snatched the file bag. "What are you trying to pull? Passing off these childish scribbles as your designs to fool Ernest? You really think he'd buy that?"

Stella took in Noreen's flustered expression, steadied herself, and countered calmly, "If you're so sure he won't believe me, why are you acting so guilty?"

"Guilty? Don't flatter yourself. This is just another one of your pathetic attempts to get Ernest's attention. You really think he'd fall for this?" Noreen shot back.

"Whether he will believe me or not, why don't you open it and see for yourself?" Stella's calm expression made Noreen feel something was off. She opened the file bag and glanced inside, only to freeze instantly.

'A divorce agreement? Did I see that right? It's impossible that Stella would want a divorce. Whatever. Who cares? The important thing is, it's not the design.' Overcome with utter relief, Noreen flung the bag at Sean and turned back to Stella with a sneer.

"Is this your new trick? Let me tell you, don't waste your time. If you bother Ernest so much that he won't even come home, you'll be the one crying alone," Noreen curled her lips in disdain.

"Say what you want." Stella didn't want to argue anymore. She turned to Sean and said, "Tell him to sign it and give it back to me soon. I'll be waiting." Then she walked away without looking back, making Noreen even angrier.

"What? You're not content with causing your own trouble. Now you have to drag Sean into it? If Ernest gets mad, Sean's the one who'll take the blame. How can you be so cruel?" Noreen shouted.

But Stella ignored Noreen's shouts completely. In frustration, Noreen stamped her foot and finally decided to run after Stella.

Sean stared at the file bag in his hand, recalling Noreen's words. 'All these years, Stella has tried every trick in the book to get Mr. Lloyd's attention. Now he's busy with Ms. Jansen. Bothering him with this now would surely end my career.'

He tossed the file bag into his desk drawer with a sneer. 'I'll give it to Mr. Lloyd later after he finishes his work and in a better mood. Even if I don't, Stella will just cook up some other scheme when she doesn't hear back. It won't make any difference.'

*****

Outside the Lloyd Group building, Stella was just about to hail a taxi when Noreen suddenly appeared and grabbed her arm firmly. "Hand over the design. This time, I'll actually put in a good word for you with Ernest."

The diamond-studded nails dug into the scar on Stella's arm, and for a moment she was thrown back to the day after her wedding. 'Back then, she grabbed me just like this, begging me to fix her project. At least she was polite at that time.'

"That won't be necessary." Stella pried Noreen's fingers away, revealing a faint, pinkish mark where her ring had been. "Once Ernest signs the papers, I'll have nothing to do with the Lloyd family."

Noreen had never expected such defiance from Stella. Panic over the competition deadline intensified her rage. She snapped, "Know your place, Stella. Ruin my chance to compete, and I'll make sure Ernest divorce you on the spot."

'Of course she doesn't have the guts to divorce Ernest. There's still time before the competition. She'll definitely bring me the finished designs by tonight, like she always does.'

'It's always like this. Every time Ernest ignores her, she comes crawling back, begging me to put in a good word for her. As if I ever would. And he wouldn't even care anyway.'

'But that divorce agreement might really mean something. Maybe it won't be long before he really does divorce her and marries Sylvia. I should get more designs out of Stella now. Stock up while I still can.'

'I know she won't give up without a fight. And even after the divorce, she'll probably still give me whatever I ask for. But why take chances? Better to have a few extras ready before she starts acting difficult.'

'I don't need many. Just something to tide me over the first few days after her divorce. She'll probably come begging within one day. And when she does, then I can ask for as many designs as I want. She'll have to agree, no matter what.'

Satisfied with her plan, Noreen's mood lightened a bit. A smug smile touched her lips as she turned and strode back toward the building, already anticipating the moment Stella would come crawling back.

*****

After leaving Lloyd Group, Stella bought some daily necessities and supplies for her design work. When she got home, she put everything away, and then sorted through all the design works she had created over the years.

Looking at those plain designs, she could hardly believe she had made them. They were just for Noreen to turn in at the company, and with all the housework taking up her time, she never put her full effort into most of them.

Nothing was really wrong with those designs, but they weren't special either. Stella never realized it until now. But seeing them like this, she knew her creativity had been fading away.

Putting the designs aside, Stella immediately dialed a number. "I need an invitation to next month's jewelry exhibition," she said, her voice calm but resolute.

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a man's cold voice. "Are you sure? I've tried to persuade you so many times before, but you never listened. Why the sudden change of heart?"

Seabrook had hosted an annual jewelry exhibition for over twenty years. Fueled by the booming economy, the event had expanded dramatically, from just a few hundred booths in its early years to well over a thousand today, gaining international recognition.

As a result, many renowned jewelry designers would showcase their masterpieces there, while countless emerging designers would go to observe even if they couldn't exhibit their own works, hoping to get some inspiration.

Stella had always been the exception. Year after year, she declined every invitation, her time swallowed by the unending demands of her family. Even when invitations arrived at her door, she gently turned them down. But now, for the first time, she asked for an invitation.

"I wasn't thinking clearly back then. Now that I've woken up, it's time to get back to work." The line was silent for a moment before it was hung up. Stella understood her request had been accepted.

A resolved smile touched her lips as she put down her phone. There was something else she had decided but hadn't spoken out. She was truly ready to make her comeback.

Chapter 5 Mom's Wasting Money Again

Influenced by her mother, Stella had always held a deep passion for jewelry design and dreamed of carrying on her mother's artistic legacy. So shortly after graduating, she co-founded a design company with a close friend from university.

Though it started small, the company began to thrive through their tireless efforts. However, just as it was preparing to go public, she made the decision to step back, choosing to devote herself entirely to her family.

Her sudden departure forced the company to cancel many deals that were based on her designs. They had to pay for broken contracts, and the IPO almost failed because of it.

Her former colleagues were angry and disappointed. Even though she still owned part of the company, most of them wanted nothing to do with her after that.

Over the years, aside from receiving dividend checks, she had been completely shut out of all company affairs. Even her once-sharp design skills had faded to a point that almost shamed her.

'If I go back now, what could I even do?' she wondered, a thread of self-doubt winding through her thoughts.

The exhibition always showcased the year's newest designs, and every participating designer had solid experience and a strong professional background.

'It has been so long since I was last involved. This exhibition is my best chance to catch up. I have to go.' she thought.

A sudden ringtone startled her. She glanced at her phone. It was her daily reminder to start preparing dinner. Like Stella, Irene loved spicy food, but Stella seldom indulged Irene, worried that the young girl's stomach couldn't handle it.

Ernest also had a sensitive stomach, yet his work often required him to attend business meals. Whenever both he and Irene were not home for lunch, Stella would simply eat something on her own. But for breakfast and dinner, she always cooked herself, ensuring every meal was both nutritious and delicious.

At first, she had also missed spicy food, but over time, she seemed to have grown used to doing without it. However, just a few days ago, she overheard Irene complain, "Mom's cooking is so bland. It's no fun to eat. Ms. Jansen's spicy buffalo wings are way more delicious."

The truth was, she also thought spicy buffalo wings were delicious, but she hadn't had any in almost ten years. She turned off the notification, deleted all her meal reminders, and ordered a portion spicy curry pasta. She ate it with tears in her eyes and a runny nose, savoring every bite.

*****

That evening, Ernest came home with Irene. Irene was sulking, her lips pursed in a clear pout. "Why did we have to leave before the light show finished? It was just getting good."

Ernest patiently explained, "Mom hasn't fully recovered from her injuries yet. Once she's completely better, I promise we'll go back and watch the entire show, from beginning to end."

"But what if Mom wants to come too?" Irene looked worried. 'Every time Mom's there, everything gets so awkward. She's unhappy. Ms. Jansen's unhappy. Nobody ends up happy. Why can't our family be like the ones on TV? Then Dad can also marry Ms. Jansen and we all live together. Then I'd have Mom, Dad, and Ms. Jansen. That would be perfect.'

"Don't worry, she won't," Ernest replied calmly. Over the years, Stella had always been compliant. When he insisted their marriage remain private, she never objected.

Beyond the occasional family dinner, Stella would even pretend not to recognize him if they crossed paths in public. 'The light show isn't a family occasion. She knows her place.' Ernest felt sure of it.

"Okay then," Irene agreed reluctantly, following Ernest inside. 'Anyway, I've had enough spicy snacks these last two days. Now I really miss Mom's oatmeal. The stuff Betty made last night wasn't terrible, but next to Mom's, it hardly even counted as food.'

Irene decided she was going to ask for her mom's oatmeal. "Mom, I want..." she began, but her voice faltered as she realized her mom wasn't waiting at the door to greet them as usual.

Ernest was also surprised. He glanced toward the kitchen and saw Betty hurrying out. The room behind Betty was silent and still. "Where's Stella?" he asked.

"Mr. Lloyd, Mrs. Lloyd mentioned she's started a new job and won't be back for the next few days," Betty replied. Ernest, however, doubted that Stella was actually capable of holding down a job.

"Does that mean I won't get to eat Mom's oatmeal anymore?" Irene's face fell. 'Betty's oatmeal isn't nearly as good. And why does Mom even need a job? Dad gives her plenty of money. Is she really that ungrateful?'

Ernest accepted the news quickly. 'She must have gotten bored at home and decided to find something to do.' Since the servants managed all the household affairs, it actually made no difference to him whether Stella stayed, worked, or left.

Betty watched as Ernest and Irene changed their shoes and entered. After hesitating for a moment, she brought out the jewelry box Stella had given her earlier. "Mr. Lloyd, Mrs. Lloyd left this for me before she left."

'Mrs. Lloyd loved this necklace and always said it was special. When I helped fix it, she was so happy that she gave me a whole extra month's pay and so many gifts. But now she just left it to me.' Betty felt a pang of sadness.

"Dad, Mom's wasting money again!" Irene said suddenly. Betty stared in shock, unable to believe what she had just heard. She opened her mouth to explain, but Ernest waved her off.

"If she gave it to you, then keep it. She's probably tired of it after all this time. She can always buy another one if she finds something she likes later. Let's eat." Ernest said flatly.

"But this is—" Before Betty could finish, Ernest's phone rang. 'This is one of a kind. Mrs. Lloyd designed it herself. You can't find anything like it out there,' Betty continued the unfinished sentence silently.

"Hello, Sylvia," he answered. Irene's eyes lit up instantly. She tugged at Ernest's hand, urging him to bend down. "Ms. Jansen filmed the light show just for you. She even got your favorite spicy buffalo wings. You can have them when you see her next time."

"Can we go now?" Irene urged, shaking his hand restlessly. "Please, Dad. Mom isn't even home. If we go back now, we can still make it in time for the light show."

Ernest was no match for his daughter's pleading. Over the phone, a woman's voice chattered cheerfully. Ernest finally gave in. "Alright, we'll go now." He scooped Irene up and headed out.

Betty stood frozen, watching them leave. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. In the end, she simply lowered her gaze, the unspoken words fading into silence as the door closed behind them.

*****

Stella, unaware of Betty's inner turmoil, had spent the entire night at her easel, pushing herself until she finally produced a design she was satisfied with.

After some hesitation, she submitted her work to Lumière Group, the very company she had once co-founded and where her talent had once shone.

Chapter 6 Don't Push It Too Far

Stella stared at the "Submission Successful" notification, sitting motionless for a long while. For the first time, she felt deeply uncertain about her own design and it even left her with a lingering sense of unease.

Returning to the workplace was easier said than done, especially in today's constantly evolving world, where jewelry design trends also changed at a fast pace.

For six years, the only time she drew was when Noreen needed a design. She never sketched for herself. Lately, even Noreen had started to complain that her work was not as good as it used to be. It was then that Stella realized how much she had fallen behind.

'Back then, I left without looking back. If all I do now is slow people down, how can I even talk about coming back?' Deep in thought, Stella was startled by her ringing phone. She stared at the name on the screen, pressed her lips together, and finally answered.

"Meet me at the company's downstairs café in thirty minutes," a calm male voice stated. The line went dead before Stella could respond, leaving her heart sinking.

*****

Stella changed and did her makeup in a rush, arriving at the café with just three minutes to spare. Nervously, she sat down opposite a man and said. "Jeremy."

Jeremy Ford looked up, his gaze passing through his elegant gold-rimmed glasses and falling straight on Stella's face, with a hint of scrutiny. "What would you like to drink?"

"Fruit..." Stella started, out of habit nearly asking for her daughter's favorite juice, but she stopped herself and changed her mind. "A cup of Mandeling, please."

Jeremy glanced at her but remained silent. Only after the coffee had been served and the waiter walked away did he take out a design drawing and place it on the table. "Is this yours?"

Stella had expected him to recognize it, so she admitted openly. "Do you want to come back to the company?" Jeremy asked once more. Without a moment's hesitation, Stella firmly admitted again.

The air fell still. After a moment, Jeremy spoke, his voice calm but deliberate, "What about your husband and daughter? Don't you need to take care of them now?"

Stella's face paled. Jeremy's words struck like a sharp knife, piercing the deepest and most guiltiest corner of her heart. "No," she said. "I'm already preparing for a divorce."

Jeremy froze for a second, a hint of surprise flashing across his face before he regained his composure. He folded his hands on the table and studied Stella intently, who seemed familiar yet somehow strange.

"When you gave up the Starlit Tear project for Ernest back then, did you ever stop to think how disappointed Ms. Preston would be?" Jeremy's question was direct and pointed.

Stella lowered her head further, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry." The words hung in the air, heavy with regret she had carried for years.

"What's the point of apologizing now? The Starlit Tear project has been on hold all this time, waiting only for you," Jeremy replied, his tone sharp yet carrying a hint of expectation.

Stella hesitated, her expression uncertain. "But I'm not sure whether my design is still up to the company's standards. That's why I submitted my work. I wanted to see the internal feedback first."

Jeremy frowned. Everyone knew he and Stella had graduated from the same university, but no one was aware they had both studied under Beverley Preston.

Beverley once remarked that Stella was the most gifted and passionate designer she had ever taught. During her college years, Stella carried herself with a certain pride. She had even boast that she could produce whatever design she wanted.

In those days, she was truly radiant with self-assurance. But now, after completing a design, she wanted to show it to junior colleagues and hear their opinions.

Jeremy also knew about Ernest, the CEO of Lloyd Group. His company was an industry leader with billions in assets, yet he had allowed his wife to fade into the background. One could easily imagine what their marriage had been like.

"What's wrong? Has your confidence faded that much? Or are you doubting Ms. Preston's teaching now?" Jeremy asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I would never doubt Ms. Preston," Stella said, looking up abruptly. Beverley Preston was a world-renowned master of design, widely regarded as one of the finest in her field. Any stone she touched was turned into a masterpiece.

"There you go. Ms. Preston always said you had even more talent than she did. It doesn't matter that you're a bit behind now. If you bring back even half the determination you once used on that man, there's nothing you can't accomplish," Jeremy said, his tone encouraging.

Stella forced a bitter smile. "Jeremy, are you praising me or scolding me here?" She lowered her head slightly, a trace of self-mockery in her eyes.

"What do you think?" Jeremy extended his hand toward her. "Stella, welcome back." She quickly reached out and shook it, a sense of familiarity from the past washing over her. It truly felt like a return.

"Want to go back to the company and have a look right now?" Jeremy offered, his tone warm and inviting.

"Jeremy, I want to take some time to sharpen my skills first. I can't promise I'll be outstanding, but at the very least, I won't hold anyone back." Stella knew the company didn't need a designer who would just slow the team down.

"Alright. I'll have someone sort out the company's design archives from recent years and send them over to you. As for competition entries, you can look those up on your own," Jeremy said.

"Thank you, Jeremy. I really mean it," Stella replied, her voice sincere. "I won't let you down."

They chatted for a while longer before Jeremy stood up and left. Just as Stella was also getting ready to leave, a voice full of surprise suddenly came from beside her.

"Stella? Is that really you?" Noreen marched directly over to Stella. She opened her mouth to say more, but noticing the glances from nearby, she lowered her voice to a harsh whisper.

"Why aren't you at home drawing? What are you doing here? And who was that man? Does Ernest know you're out having coffee with someone else?" Noreen asked.

This series of questions made Stella's expression darken instantly. 'In Noreen's eyes, even having coffee with a man was something I had to report to Ernest. But Ernest has been seen openly with his mistress, and Noreen has never once said a word against it.'

'In the past, I might choose to compromises to save my marriage. But now that I'm ready to divorce, why should I keep swallowing my pride and trying to please someone who has never respected me?'

With that, Stella replied bluntly, "I told you, I won't be drawing designs for you anymore. If I ever pick up a pen again, it'll be for myself." From then on, she decided never to show Noreen another design, not even a discarded sketch.

Noreen was stunned that Stella had rejected her again. The competition deadline was closing in, the outcome of which would determine whether her work could be exhibited smoothly. There was no margin for error at this critical stage.

'Does Stella really not care about Ernest or the Lloyd family anymore? No, that can't be. I know better than anyone how much she has sacrificed for him all these years. There's no way she would just walk away,' Noreen thought to herself.

Then a smug look slowly returned to Noreen's face. "Stella, even if you're trying to get Ernest's attention, don't push it too far. If I tell him you were here with some strange man, don't you think he'll be even more disgusted with you?"

Chapter 7 Mom's Oatmeal

Noreen was filled with confidence. 'After all, for years Stella has avoided everything Ernest hates, no matter how small it is.'

Stella opened her mouth to reply, but Noreen cut her off impatiently. "That's enough. I don't have time to waste on your nonsense. My friend is waiting for me."

Following Noreen's gaze, Stella noticed a woman around Noreen's age sitting at a nearby table and watching them closely.

But before leaving, Noreen lowered her voice once more. "You have three days. Bring me the final design, or I'll tell Ernest exactly what happened here today."

With that, she didn't wait for a response and returned straight to her table. As she sat down, the woman across from her glanced toward Stella and asked, "Noreen, do you know her? Why not invite her to join us?"

"I do, but we're not close. A quick greeting is more than enough," Noreen said nonchalantly, signaling clearly that she had no intention of continuing the conversation.

Stella's hand, halfway toward her bag, went still. 'Not close? She has taken so many designs from me since college, yet she has the nerve to say we're not close?'

'Fine, it makes sense. Ernest never even acknowledged me as his wife. Why would his sister see me as family?'

There was a time when such a thought would have wounded her, but now it didn't even bother her. She would never again waste her energy trying to please those who didn't value her.

Stella walked out of the café without a hint of hesitation. Meanwhile, the woman sitting across from Noreen kept gazing in the direction where Stella had disappeared.

"Jessica, what is it?" Noreen felt a twinge of anxiety. 'Has Stella told people about her secret marriage with Ernest? If anyone found out Ernest's wife is just a useless housewife and a pathetic fool who does nothing but chase after men, that would bring utter shame upon our family.'

Jessica Slater snapped back to attention. "It's nothing. It's just that the man she was with earlier looked a lot like Jeremy Ford, the CEO of Lumière Group."

Relieved it wasn't what she had feared, Noreen relaxed slightly. "Lumière Group?" She knew the name. Though fairly new, the company had already made a mark in the design world and earned respect for its unique style.

'What would the CEO of Lumière Group want with someone like Stella? What would he even see in her?' Noreen refused to believe it.

"Impossible, Jessica. You must have seen wrong," Noreen stated firmly. "I may not be close to her, but I know she's just a housewife who does nothing but ask for money. She's utterly talentless. Why would a CEO like him even notice her? Even a street beggar would look down on her."

'At least beggars earn their keep. But Stella? With a house full of servants, she just lazes around playing the lady of leisure. Giving her money is a complete waste.' Noreen thought with contempt.

Seeing how certain Noreen was, Jessica didn't press further. 'Maybe I was mistaken about that man. He must just look like Jeremy Ford,' she told herself.

*****

On her way home, Stella stopped by the grocery store. When she got back to her kitchen, she preheated the oven and began washing the vegetables.

As she started chopping, she suddenly realized everything she had bought was for Ernest and Irene. There was nothing there just for herself.

Her hand stilled. She stared at the vegetables on the cutting board for a long moment, then abruptly pushed them away and searched through the pantry for chili peppers. The oven was preheated and ready, but she had lost all interest in cooking.

*****

It was already 9 pm when Ernest brought Irene back to Lloyd Villa in Regal Park Estates. The warm yellow porch light that usually welcomed them was off, and the living room stood so quiet that they could hear only the ticking of the wall clock.

Ernest frowned slightly. "Betty, hasn't Stella returned yet?" he asked, his voice low and edged with impatience.

"No, she hasn't," Betty said, twisting the corner of her apron with a slightly flustered look. She had rushed over to welcome them, but now seemed unsure of what to say next.

Irene's small fingers curled tightly around the strap of her backpack. 'Mom's always at the door by now. She hugs me and Dad and asks if I missed her at kindergarten. But she just had to go to work these days. No one even made my strawberry cake.'

Irene pressed her lips together, her heart feeling like a tangled ball of yarn. "Mom is so silly. She could just stay home and live comfortably. Why does she have to work? She's not like Ms. Jansen. She can't do all those things. Why can't she just stop comparing herself?"

At first, she was thrilled that her mom wasn't around. Finally no one was nagging her. She could eat whatever she craved and stay up as late as she wanted. It felt like freedom.

But after two days of big meals, all she wanted was a bowl of her mom's gentle oatmeal. It used to appear without her even asking, but now it was nowhere to be found. The emptiness sank heavy in her chest.

She thought about calling her mom, but it felt too embarrassing. 'What if she thinks I can't live without her? She might come back even stricter.' After turning it over in her mind, Irene placed her hopes on her dad instead.

"Dad, can you call Mom and ask her to come make oatmeal for me?" she begged. 'Mom listens to Dad the most. If he asks, she'll definitely come home.'

"Call her yourself," Ernest said, already heading up the stairs. He didn't even glance back, his voice drifting down dismissively as his footsteps faded around the landing.

Irene pouted, still craving her mom's oatmeal. When her eyes landed on Betty, who was tidying up nearby, a sudden idea came to her. She hurried over to Betty and said, "Betty, call Mom and tell her Dad wants her to come home and cook."

Irene stood on her tiptoes, trying to look demanding. Betty's hands trembled by her apron. The little girl's fluffy curls were tucked behind a strawberry clip, her bright eyes glistened like morning dew, and her long lashes brushed her pink cheeks. Anyone who saw her would think she was as cute as a button.

But with her hands on her hips and that bossy little voice, all that cuteness was gone. "Betty, are you deaf?" She stamped her foot, making the pearls on her princess dress shake. "If you don't call her, I'll tell Dad to fire you!" she said, her tone as entitled as ever.

Betty sighed softly under her breath. After a moment's hesitation, she finally pulled out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, and brought it to her ear, waiting for Stella to answer the call.

*****

Stella was reviewing the design work from the company's recent projects, which Jeremy had just sent over. When her phone rang, she was a little surprised to see Betty's name on the screen.

"Mrs. Lloyd," Betty's voice came through hesitantly. "Miss Irene has been asking for your oatmeal. Would you be able to come back and make it for her?"

Chapter 8 I'm Busy

On the other end, Irene pressed her small head close to the phone, a triumphant smile on her face. She could already imagine her mom hurrying home to make oatmeal for her. After all, in the past, even the smallest whimper from her would send her mom rushing to her side.

Stella's fingers tightened around the phone, her knuckles turning pale. On the screen in front of her, the design drawings Jeremy had sent were still glowing. She stared at the lines and thoughtful details, seeing clearly how much care the designer had poured into every part.

Suddenly, she remembered those nights she used to spend drawing in her studio. Back then, her hands were free of burns from boiling pots and the smell of kitchen grease. All they ever had on them was paint.

Stella's voice came out slightly hoarse. "Tell her I'm busy." Silence followed from the other end. Without another word, Stella hung up and placed the phone on the desk. Then she looked at her own hands, a wave of sadness washing over her.

Once, these hands had won countless awards, moving with confidence and creative flair. But ever since marrying into the Lloyd family, she had set down her pens and picked up a kitchen spoon.

At first, she burnt the oatmeal black three times in a row. Little by little, she learned to make pastries fine enough for any restaurant. Yet year after year, every callus on her hands earned her nothing but cold remarks from Ernest and more entitlement from Irene.

Her phone rang again. It was a message from Jeremy with a link. She opened the link and saw a digital invitation with shiny gold edges. Lloyd Group was hosting a meet-up, inviting designers to join for discussions and sharing.

She had to admit Lloyd Group lived up to its name. Though it was called a casual meet-up, several rising independent designers were set to attend. As expected, many jewelry companies would also be there, some looking to partner and others hoping to discover new talent.

'But does a leading company like Lloyd Group really need to hold an event like this?' Stella wasn't sure, but she knew she couldn't let this chance slip away.

She replied to Jeremy, [Got it. I'll be there.] The moment she sent the message, the sharp spicy smell from the kitchen reached her. It used to be her favorite, but now it only brought back memories of all those lonely nights she had spent eating cold meals by herself.

*****

Irene's face fell when she heard that Stella was too busy to come. Anger quickly followed. She let out a frustrated whimper and turned to stomp upstairs.

Just then, Ernest stepped out, holding his phone. He saw her stormy expression and knelt down. "What's wrong?"

"Dad, Mom won't come back and make my oatmeal. She said she's busy," Irene said, her face falling into a pout. 'Mom used to come cook for me whenever I asked. Why can't she just drop everything and make it for me like she used to?'

"Dad, can you please call her?" Irene begged, looking up at Ernest with pleading eyes. "If you ask, I know Mom will come back home for us."

Ernest gently patted Irene's back. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Mom just wanted some time out to have fun. She'll come back on her own when she starts to miss us."

This just confused Irene even more. "But why does Mom want to go out and have fun? Shouldn't she be at home waiting for us when we get back?"

Just then, Ernest's phone beeped twice. Irene, who had been feeling down moments before, suddenly lit up. "Is that Ms. Jansen? Did she think of another fun place to go?"

Ernest took out his phone and gave a slight nod. "Yes. Ms. Jansen has booked tickets for tomorrow night's performance of Snow White. It's your favorite. I'll pick you up after school and we'll go together."

"That's awesome!" Irene cheered. But then she suddenly thought of her mom again. 'Maybe it's better that Mom didn't come back. Otherwise she'd just nag me to practice piano, worry about safety, and go on and on. She might even get mad that I'm going out with Ms. Jansen and tell me I can't go.'

'That's probably why Dad didn't call Mom back. If she wants to have fun, let her stay out a few more days. After the weekend, when I've had my fun, I'll just tell her to come home.' Irene thought to herself.

*****

The next evening, Stella followed the address Jeremy had shared, arriving at the second floor of Blue Whale Hotel. But just as she walked through the main entrance, she spotted Ernest stepping out of a car.

The two froze as their eyes met from a distance. But then Ernest quickly looked away. He walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door, and offered his hand. A slender hand reached out from within the car and rested gently in his.

As Sylvia stepped out of the car, the evening breeze lifted the hem of her pearl-gray suit skirt, revealing a dark silver snake-shaped anklet around her ankle.

That piece was once the highlight of the Lloyd Jewelry Exhibition. Now it coiled around Sylvia's smooth ankle, tightening like real scales as she stepped down. However, few people knew that the design, publicly credited to Noreen, was actually Stella's.

Sylvia naturally linked her arm with Ernest's. He looked down at her, his eyes full of tenderness. Stella followed behind, clutching her invitation tightly. The elevator's walls reflected her pale face.

When she picked up her guest badge at the registration desk, she caught pieces of a hushed conversation nearby. A blonde woman whispered to her friend, "Did you see Sylvia's bracelet? It looks like this year's Van Cleef & Arpels limited edition."

Her brunette companion replied quietly, "You know she's a designer herself, right? Just starting to get recognized. Rumor has it Mr. Lloyd is backing her all the way."

"No wonder he came tonight," the blonde added. "You'd never normally see someone like him at an event like this. They must be together. I heard he'd give her everything she asked. He absolutely adores her."

Stella did her best to ignore the chatter and focus on the designers' work. She paused before a brooch design titled Tundra Spark. Without a doubt, it was the most striking piece at the event.

"Good eye," a familiar voice came from behind her. Stella turned to see Jeremy approaching, his gaze warm behind his glasses. "This brooch uses reverse inlay. See this crack? It reminds me of the iceberg fissure we once discussed."

Stella froze for a moment, suddenly reminded of their first university design project. To capture the realism and beauty of iceberg cracks, she had even traveled all the way to Frostpeak Isle.

Unconsciously, her fingers brushed against the calluses on her palm. 'But this is what I have now.' Lost in thought, she suddenly felt a chill down her spine. She instinctively turned around and met Ernest's piercing gaze.