Chapter 8
Nathan immediately dialed his grandmother’s number, demanding to know Stella’s whereabouts–only to realize he’d been
blocked.
His fingers trembled as he slammed the phone down, storming into the bedroom with a face like thunder.
The room was pitch black. The bed was neatly made.
Empty.
Even the faint trace of her scent–something floral, something hers–was gone.
He suddenly spotted the camera in the corner. His chest burning with torment.
In a blind rage, he grabbed it and smashed it against the wall, glass shattering everywhere.
Breathing hard, he stood by the floor–to–ceiling window, his reflection a mess of fury and disbelief.
How could Stella just leave?
She’d never once disobeyed him in five years of marriage. If he told her to keep her distance, she’d hover just close enough, never crossing the line.
And now she’d signed the papers without a word.
His throat tightened.
Coming to his senses, he snatched his phone again, barking at his assistant the second the call connected:
“Find Stella. Fast as possible!”
On the way to the airport, Grandma’s bodyguard asked where I wanted to settle.
Half–conscious, I mumbled: “London.”
Before our arranged marriage with Nathan, I’d had someone I loved.
If not for this farce of a contract marriage, we might still be together.
It was pathetic, really–that in my lowest moment, he was still the first person I thought of.
I barely remembered boarding the plane. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a sunlit apartment.
“Stella… you’re finally awake.”
The familiar face of Louie Brooks came into focus.
And just like that, every ounce of strength I’d clung to dissolved. I threw myself into his arms, sobbing like a child.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here…” His arms tightened around me, warm and solid–something I hadn’t felt in five years.
Trash Husband, Billionaire Upgrade: Dumping the Fake for Real Love
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Chapter 8
Nathan always accused me of “scheming” for his attention. But sometimes, all I’d wanted was a simple hug.
Just that.
But now… it was over. No more walking on eggshells. No more swallowing my pride.
I told Louie everything–the humiliation, the auction, the way Nathan had looked at me like I was nothing.
When I finally ran out of words, Louie cupped my face, his voice raw with emotion:
“Stella, if I told you I’ve been waiting for you all this time, would that make you happy?”
My breath caught.
Happy? Of course I was happy.
But was it fair to make him wait so long?
Over the next few days, I stayed at his place.
Old habits died hard–I still caught myself scrubbing floors by hand, washing sheets until my fingers cracked.
When Louie saw my ruined hands, his eyes turned red. “Just throw them in the damn washer,” he muttered, pulling me away. “You don’t have to do this anymore.”
With his guidance, I gradually changed my lifestyle, relaxing considerably.
Until the night I stepped outside–and saw Nathan.
“Why are you here? I don’t want to see you.” I turned on my heel without a second glance.
Nathan lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. “Stella! You can’t just disappear like that! What the hell was I supposed to think?”
I almost laughed. Oh, how irony.
“And what was I supposed to think,” I snapped, “when you let your friends mock me? When you treated me like trash?”
“Stop pretending. You got what you wanted. You’re free now. Go marry Zoey and live happily ever after. What are you
dissatisfied with?”
His grip tightened. “I didn’t agree to the fucking divorce! Marriage is between us–you can’t let Grandma decide for me!”
Something flickered in his eyes–panic?
But… What right did he have to refuse the divorce?
He’d always loved Zoey, betrayed me during our marriage, humiliated me.
I should have ended this farce long ago.
“We married without love. Now everything’s back on track–you should be happy.”
“Nathan, we’re really over.”
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Trash Husband, Billionaire Upgrade: Dumping the Fake for Real Love
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Chapter 8
I turned to leave, but he held tight. “So that’s it? Did you divorce me for another man?”
Ah. So he knew about Louie.
But what business was it of his?
I laughed coldly: “Funny, coming from someone who couldn’t keep his hands off Zoey How innocent are you and Zoey?”
Nathan pressed his lips together, completely deflated. “It was just a meaningless fling with her, nothing serious. Don’t overthink it, okay?”
Was this the standard cheater’s excuse?
A meaningless fling, or wholehearted devotion?
Only he knew the truth.
“Spare me the excuses.” I turned away. “We’re done.”
Nathan stood frozen. This time, he didn’t stop me.
But as I walked off, I heard it–the sharp, ragged breath of a man realizing too late what he’d lost.
And for the first time in five years?
I didn’t look back.
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