He Ruined Their Anniversary, Now She’s Vowing to Another

It was their third anniversary. Dominic Grant had just made their relationship Instagram official, posting a picture with a heartfelt caption.

Stella Johnson, his girlfriend, hesitated briefly before quietly liking it. Right then, before she could even set her phone down, Dominic's buzzed loudly.

She picked it up without a second thought and was greeted with his sharp voice. "What the hell is going on? Why did you go looking for her?!"

A few months ago, Stella might've crumbled at the sound of his angry clamor. She would've cried, maybe even begged for an explanation, but not this time.

This time, she felt nothing at all. It was just a hollow, empty space where hurt used to be.

She wasn't broken. She was done with him.

In fact, she was already making plans. Plans to marry someone else. Someone who wouldn't make her secondguess every move she made.

...

"Pete, I told you I'd go back and honor the family arrangement,” Stella said to her brother as she tapped the 'like' button on his post.

On the other end of the line, Peter couldn't resist teasing her. "Oh, so now you're coming around? Weren't you just swearing up and down that you'd stay in New York with your little boyfriend? You've been together for years and still haven't brought him home to meet us. Doesn't sound like the most trustworthy guy to me."

A bitter smile twisted Stella's lips, but she remained silent. Her mind was somewhere else entirely. She refreshed her feed and saw that Dominic had already deleted the post.

Before she could process it, the doorbell rang. She sighed, hanging up the phone and walking toward the door.

The moment she opened it, a slap landed across her cheek. It stung her in surprise, causing her to freeze on the spot. With her head spinning, she looked up at Dominic in disbelief.

"Stella!" he shouted. "Who told you it was okay to mess with Celine like that? Do you have any idea what she's going through? She has depression, for God's sake!" His rage was palpable, his fists clenched at his sides. "You better get yourself together. Just because you're my girlfriend doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. If anything happens to Celine, I'll make you pay for it!"

Then, his phone buzzed in his hand.

A muffled sob came through the receiver.

It was Celine's voice.

Dominic's expression softened instantly, a flicker of concern crossing his face. Without glancing at the untouched food or the delicate anniversary cake on the table, he turned to leave. Quickly, his entire focus was now on the call.

Stella stood there, still stunned. The sting on her cheek faded into something worse, driving it down her chest; she blinked, fighting back the tears building up for so long. But no matter how hard she tried, the tears began to fall.

Her phone buzzed again, this time relentlessly. It was Celine, posting one photo after another on the fan group page—Dominic cooking for her, Dominic laughing as he peeled apples, and then them kissing.

Then came a story on Celine's own account.

It was a picture of her playing with Dominic's hair, captioned:

[Why is it always the same? When I start crying, you rush to give me everything you think will make me feel better?]

In the photo, Dominic's face was soft. His lips curved into a helpless smile as he looked down at her. He looked nothing like the angry man who had just slapped Stella.

Her chest constricted, a knot of betrayal tightening around her heart. Without a second thought, she left the fan group and blocked Celine.

The memories began to flood back five years ago, back when everything had seemed so simple.

It was her second year of high school when Peter first brought Dominic home. One look and Stella was hooked. She called him "Dom," like her brother, Peter, "Pete." It had always been playful and familiar.

Dominic would always smile, ruffle her hair affectionately, and tease her with little jokes. It was their thing—a bond built on comfort, shared moments, and unspoken understanding.

When Stella reached her senior year, and Dominic had already graduated, she decided to stay in New York instead of going back home to Florida despite her family's objections. She used Peter's connections to move into Dominic's place. It wasn't long before they became a couple.

At first, Dominic had treated her like she was the only woman in the world. She'd felt like the happiest girl alive.

But then, there was that day.

The day Dominic had jokingly said, "If your brother finds out I'm dating his sister, I might be in for a beating.”

Stella kept her relationship with Dominic hidden, a secret affair that kept her away from home for four long years. She had convinced herself she could live with the secrecy, distance, and constant waiting. But after a year, things began to change.

Dominic started staying out all night. His phone's password, once her birthday, was now a code she couldn't crack.

It wasn't until two weeks ago, when Stella accidentally stumbled upon a message thread on Dominic's phone, that the truth came crashing down.

Celine Montgomery, Dominic's first love, was back in town.

At first, Stella refused to believe it. She'd convinced herself she was overthinking it and that it was nothing. But her curiosity got the best of her, and she added Celine on social media.

And there it was, laid out in front of her:

Celine's Moments—photos of her and Dominic, laughing, hugging, kissing.

It wasn't a fling. It was real. It had been going on for over a year.

The moment Stella saw those photos, the truth hit her. She wasn't his girlfriend. She was just a placeholder. Dominic found her when bored and his real love wasn't around. He'd used her as a distraction until Celine came back.

It took her two weeks to process everything. Two weeks to mourn the future she thought they'd have. Two weeks to admit to herself that she had been a fool. But even then, the hardest part was realizing how easily she had been replaced.

Stella forced herself to eat, though her appetite had vanished. She glanced at the cake in front of her—"Happy Third Anniversary" scrawled across the top—and a pang hit her chest.

Without thinking, she grabbed the cake and threw it in the trash. Inside it was the engagement ring she had been holding onto so desperately.

She'd kept a sliver of hope, a tiny spark that maybe, if she waited long enough, Dominic would choose her. But that slap earlier had destroyed that hope completely.

...

At midnight, Dominic finally staggered through the door.

He was barely standing, halfdragged in by Celine, reeking of alcohol. His shirt was untucked, his eyes bloodshot.

Celine smirked at Stella, a gleam in her eye. "You must be Stella, right?" she said sweetly, her voice laced with something else—victory, maybe. "Nicky talks about you all the time. You're such a good, obedient girl."

She would always call Dominic, 'Nicky', as if they were still together. With that, barely glancing at Celine, Stella took Dominic's arm, trying to close the door behind them.

But Celine quickly blocked it with her foot.

"Don't mind me," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Nicky's always felt sorry for me. I've been dealing with depression, and he's been keeping me company. If I'd known he had a girlfriend, I would never let him do this."

Her tone was syrupy, but her smile was smug, almost gloating.

Stella's stomach churned. "Are you done?" she asked, her voice flat and cold.

Celine seemed momentarily taken aback as if expecting more of a reaction—maybe anger, maybe tears. But Stella gave her nothing. She didn't even flinch.

Without waiting for a reply, Stella slammed the door shut.

She moved into the kitchen and started preparing some sobering soup for Dominic, setting it on the counter in front of him.

As she watched him slowly begin to come around, a heavy weight settled in her chest. She'd done what she needed to do for him, as always.

But this time, it felt different.

She turned to leave, planning to head to her room, but Dominic grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his lap.

"Are you angry?" he slurred, his voice rough, his fingers grazing the swollen side of her face. His touch was almost tender like he was petting a wounded animal.

"Sorry, Stella. I shouldn't have hit you."

She pulled back slightly, her heart heavy but her expression unreadable.

"It's fine," she said, her voice distant. "I understand."

There was no bitterness in her words, no anger—just resignation.

To stand up for someone you love, to be indifferent or even violent toward those who don't matter—it was human nature, after all.

Dominic, oblivious to her detached response, smiled in relief. "You're amazing, Stella," he said, his voice softening. "Let me show you the gift I got you."

He pulled out a shiny necklace and fastened it around her neck.

Stella froze. The necklace was beautiful, but something in her chest twisted. She hesitated before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Happy third anniversary, babe," Dominic said, grinning like he'd just won a prize.

In the past, that would've been enough to make her feel like the luckiest girl alive. She would've cried, laughed, kissed him.

But now, all she could think about was seeing the exact same necklace around Celine's neck just ten minutes ago.

She smiled bitterly to herself.

Was this really what she was worth?

Was this how the "standin" was treated?

In the past, when Dominic had mentioned how much he liked dark green hair, Stella had dyed her hair in dark green waves, even though she'd loved her black hair. When he'd said he wanted her to wear spaghetti straps, her entire wardrobe had been filled with them.

Whenever they went on a date, Dominic insisted on Italian food, even though Stella had never been fond of it.

But none of it mattered now. None of it was enough.

Stella found herself resenting everything Celine liked, including the necklace Dominic had just given her. It felt like a symbol of someone else's love—someone else's devotion—something she no longer wanted. Standing there, she lowered her gaze, subtly distancing herself from him.

With a long, tired sigh, she finally spoke. "It's late, Dominic. I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Behind her, she heard his voice soften, still pleading. "Stella, you know Celine has depression... please, try to understand."

His words hit her like a dull ache. They were a reminder of everything she had sacrificed.

Dominic continued, attempting to soften the blow. "Once Celine gets better, I'll be able to be with you all the time."

Stella swallowed hard, the bitterness rising in her throat. "There won't be a future."

...

The next morning, Stella woke early, the weight of the previous night still lingering. She didn't waste any time overthinking it. Instead, she headed straight to the hair salon.

The dark green waves that had once been Dominic's request—his preference—were gone. She was back to her natural black, straight hair. The hair she had always loved, the one that felt like her.

She spent the rest of the day shopping for clothes she liked—clothes that made her feel like herself, not someone else's idea of who she should be. No more spaghetti straps. No more pretending to fit into a mold that was never hers.

It felt liberating.

But then, as she scrolled through her phone, her stomach sank when she saw a notification for Celine's live stream. She froze. She knew exactly what it meant.

More of Dominic, Celine, and everything she was trying to forget.

With a resigned sigh, she canceled all the accounts related to Celine. The streams were always the same—Celine, with Dominic by her side, always playing the part of the perfect couple. He'd even declared Celine his "personal assistant," promising to protect her from anyone who might hurt her.

But to Stella, the most painful part wasn't the promises. It was the way Dominic would always talk about her.

"I'll take care of you. You don't need to work," he'd say. The words cut deeper than any betrayal.

Stella shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside. She was done with Dominic. Done with Celine.

Or so she thought.

...

As she turned a corner in the mall, she nearly bumped into them.

There they were—Dominic and Celine—laughing together as they shopped. Dominic was carrying several shopping bags, his eyes soft with affection, his smile warm and easy.

And Celine? She was livestreaming, of course, beaming at the camera, looking every bit the pictureperfect couple.

Stella's stomach twisted. She glanced down at her phone, her thumb scrolling absentmindedly.

Ten minutes ago, Dominic sent her a message:

[I'm working, I'll bring you something delicious tonight.]

'Working? Shopping with Celine, eating, livestreaming?' Stella huffed in frustration

The absurdity of it all hit her in a wave, and she couldn't help but laugh—bitterly and loud enough to draw attention.

Celine noticed her first, waving at her with a wide smile as if she hadn't just witnessed Dominic comforting Stella earlier.

Dominic faltered for a moment, and then his expression hardened. He frowned. "Why did you dye your hair back?" His voice was laced with disapproval, though it sounded more like a complaint than genuine concern.

Stella didn't even glance at Celine's camera. She wasn't about to be part of their little performance. "I like it this way," she said flatly, keeping her tone neutral, her heart completely detached.

Without waiting for a response, she added, "I won't disturb your livestream," before turning on her heel and leaving them behind.

Dominic watched her leave, his gaze darkening for a moment. But as his eyes moved to Celine, his expression softened. He smiled almost reassuringly.

"It's fine. Stella won't mind," he said, though the words seemed more for his own benefit than anyone else's.

Celine, who had already turned off the stream, looked up at Dominic, her eyes glistening with feigned concern.

"Nicky, Stella seems upset. It's all my fault." Her voice wavered, dripping with needy desperation. "But... I only have you. You can't leave me."

Dominic, as always, softened at her pleas. He pulled Celine into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her protectively. "It's okay, Celine. Don't worry, I'm here for you."

Stella stood there, watching the scene unfold from afar. It felt like a punch to the gut. For a moment, she couldn't even tell who was supposed to be Dominic's real girlfriend anymore.

But, honestly? It didn't matter.

Soon, she wouldn't be anyone's girlfriend at all. And Dominic, she realized with a sudden clarity, wasn't worth her love.

...

A week later, as she prepared to return to the capital, Stella decided it was time to pack up her room—time to remove the last remnants of the life she was leaving behind.

Her room was filled with things Dominic had chosen for her and things he'd bought. The small spaghetti straps he'd insisted she wear. The luxury gifts he'd given her...

Everything Stella had once cherished, which had felt like treasures, was now being packed away. Her belongings were few, a collection of old clothes and trinkets. One suitcase was enough to carry it all.

As she sifted through the pile, her eyes landed on a framed photo of herself and Dominic sitting on the desk.

For a moment, she froze. The warmth of his past kindness still lingered in her memory—clear, almost too sharp.

A thought from her school days popped into her mind:

'Is it better to never have regrets, or is it worse to have something than lose it and live with that regret?' The question twisted her stomach.

It had been so easy to fall for Dominic, to give him everything. But now, as she stood in this room surrounded by the remnants of a life she was leaving behind, Stella wasn't sure if it had all been worth it.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts, gathering the things she'd sorted out and ready to throw them away. It took several trips to the trash bins to dispose of everything.

She didn't look back.

"Why are you downstairs?" Dominic's voice broke through her thoughts as he walked in, his tone lazy. He grabbed her hand without looking at her, his eyes still fixed on his phone. His other hand was typing furiously, fingers flying over the screen as though he were racing against time.

Stella didn't meet his gaze.

She pulled her hand away and kept her voice even. "Just throwing out some trash."

Dominic didn't respond immediately, humming absently, unsure if he'd even heard her. But as they reached the door, he finally looked up from his phone.

"What did you just say?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly, noticing something was off.

Stella pulled her hand out of his grasp and kept her face impassive. "Nothing."

Dominic set his phone down, finally giving her his full attention. His expression shifted, and he stepped closer, his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her toward him with practiced ease.

"Are you mad again?" he asked teasingly, his voice softening with the same relaxed tone he always used when he thought he could charm her back.

In the past, this would have made Stella melt. She would have believed it was a sign that Dominic still cared. But with time, she'd learned that Dominic treated everyone with that same detached affection. It wasn't real.

And when it came to Celine, it was a whole different story. With her, Dominic was tender, protective, and even nervous. It was a kind of care Stella could never envy.

He stroked her hair, trying to soften the mood. "I was working today, but Celine said she was bored and wanted to go to the mall. She insisted, and I couldn't say no."

He continued, oblivious to how the words landed. "I didn't expect to see you there. Why didn't you tell me you were going?"

Stella raised an eyebrow, her voice flat. "If I had told you, would you have left Celine behind to be with me?"

For three years, Dominic had never been with her on a simple shopping trip. His excuse had always been that it would be too awkward—that someone might see them and expose their relationship.

But now, with Celine back in the picture, suddenly, those concerns didn't matter. Dominic no longer cared about looking awkward. He only cared about pleasing Celine.

"Stella," Dominic chuckled, his tone patronizing. "You're being stubborn, baby. Do you want me to punish you?"

He leaned in to kiss her, his lips hovering just a breath away.

But Stella pulled back, her eyes hardening.

Dominic's smile faltered, and his face darkened. His patience, once a constant with her, seemed to drain instantly.

"Stella, stop being unreasonable." His voice dropped, frustration creeping in. "I've already explained that Celine has depression. I need to be there for her." His tone grew sharper like he couldn't believe she wasn't getting it. "You're always jealous, making things difficult for Celine and me. Can't you just be a little more understanding?"

Stella's lips curled into a bitter smile. She let out a short, humorless laugh.

Dominic frowned, clearly confused. "What's so funny?"

Stella met his gaze, her voice steady but cold. "I'm not jealous, Dom." She paused, her eyes narrowing, a slight edge to her voice. "And I won't be jealous of you ever again."

Before she could finish, Dominic's expression turned icecold. His face hardened into something unrecognizable.

"Are you trying to be sarcastic?" he snapped.

Without waiting for an answer, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Stella couldn't help but laugh, though it was more out of disbelief than amusement.

Was he really falling apart over this?

Dominic didn't return home for several days after that. Stella kept herself busy. She scrolled through job listings online, looking for positions in the city.

Although her family could easily help her find something, she wanted to prove she could make it alone.

Every so often, Stella would step out to catch a movie or just to clear her head. Without Dominic in her life, everything felt lighter—less complicated. She was starting to rediscover what it meant to be herself again.

Peter called her every other day, his voice like a constant reminder of home. "Didn't we agree you'd be back in a week? It's been five days already. What’s taking you so long?"

Stella smiled as she listened to his familiar nagging. Hearing someone care so much about the details of her life was oddly comforting. For a moment, she felt really happy. It was the kind of joy that she hadn't experienced in a while.

"Come on, Pete! A week is seven days, not five," she teased, enjoying the easy backandforth.

Peter paused, clearly caught off guard.

"Wait, really?" he chuckled. "I could've sworn it's five." Then, he diverted the conversation. "Anyway, let's get serious. Isn’t tomorrow your birthday? Your fiancé’s been sending gifts like crazy. Your room's practically overflowing."

Stella raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "He’s more thoughtful than your little boyfriend, don’t you think?"

The mention of her fiancé made Stella pause for a moment. "How does he know it’s my birthday? Did you tell him?"

Before she could worry further, Peter scoffed. "I didn’t say a word. I have no idea how he found out, but listen—those who care don’t need to be taught, and those who don’t care can’t be taught."

Stella couldn’t help but laugh at that. "By the way, didn’t your little boyfriend do anything for your birthday?"

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the conversation. "What do you mean, 'do anything'?"

Stella froze.

Peter nearly dropped the phone. "Dominic?! Is that—Is he there? Why is he there at this hour?!"

Stella’s heart skipped a beat. Panic surged, but she quickly scrambled to cover her tracks. "You must’ve heard wrong. It's just the movie. I’m gonna take a shower now. We’ll talk later."

She hung up quickly, her hands trembling slightly.

Dominic was standing there, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, like a child who had just pulled off the perfect prank.

Stella’s eyes narrowed, instantly cold. "Why are you back all of a sudden?"

Dominic, as casual as ever, didn’t miss a beat. "This is my house. Why wouldn’t I come back?"

Stella went silent. That’s right. This wasn’t her home.

He shrugged, completely unbothered, and shifted the conversation. "Get dressed. I’m taking you out for your birthday."

Stella glanced at the clock. There were still thirty minutes until midnight.

Half an hour later, her phone buzzed nonstop with birthday wishes and money transfers from family and friends:

[Happy Birthday, Stella! Another year older, may you grow with joy!]

[Happy Birthday, my dear daughter! Not just today, but may every day be filled with happiness!]

[Dear sister, I wish you a wonderful birthday! You’re 23 now, so it’s time to show some respect to your brother, haha!]

The messages made her smile. For a moment, she let herself enjoy the warmth they brought. She sent her thanks to each one. But when she looked up again, her face shifted into something colder, more distant.

Dominic had promised to take her out for her birthday, but instead, she found just one of his meaningless gatherings with friends. It was the kind of gettogether where everyone was polite, but no one was present. No one was really there.

Everyone exchanged subtle, awkward glances. Dominic, however, barely seemed to notice her at all. His attention was focused entirely on Celine, who sat across the room, talking animatedly.

On the other hand, Stella found herself sitting alone in the corner, a sad, lonely cake in front of her. No candles. No one sang her a birthday song. No one even looked at her like she mattered.

She was supposed to be the star of the night. The birthday girl. But in that moment, it felt like she didn’t even exist.

It didn’t take much for Stella to see through Dominic’s game. He hadn’t brought her here because he cared. He’d brought her to provoke Celine. They’d fought, and now Dominic was using her to stir up jealousy in Celine. It was petty. Childish. Pathetic.

Stella couldn’t help but feel a bitter mockery rising inside her. This is what happens to people who aren’t loved.

After what felt like an eternity, exhaustion began to settle in. Her eyelids grew heavy, her body tired from the emotional strain. She leaned back in her seat, trying to push the loneliness away.

It was getting harder to care.

Without warning, Dominic grabbed Stella's wrist, his grip shackling her.

Stella winced, her brow furrowing as she glanced up at him. His eyes, however, were fixed on Celine, who was laughing and chatting with another guy, clearly enjoying herself. The sight made Stella's stomach twist, but she didn't let it show.

She sighed, trying to remove her hand, but Dominic's grip wouldn't budge.

"If you can't hold it in any longer," he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration, "just go apologize and make up."

Stella’s chest tightened. 'Why was it always her who had to be the one to fix things when Dominic fought with Celine?'

She bit back her frustration, but it was getting harder to hold on.

It wasn't until Celine reached for a third bottle of alcohol, about to drink herself into oblivion, that Dominic finally lost his cool. He snatched the bottle out of her hand with a force that startled everyone in the room.

“Drinking this much? Are you trying to kill yourself?” he hissed, his voice full of disbelief.

But Celine wasn't having it. She shot him a hurt look, almost playful like she wasn't taking him seriously at all.

“Why do you care what I do?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Aren't you supposed to be spending time with your girlfriend? For her birthday?”

Her eyes flickered toward Stella, a malicious gleam flashing in them.

At that moment, every eye in the room turned toward Stella. The atmosphere grew thick with mockery. Subtle smirks, quiet whispers, and veiled malice surrounded her. But she didn't flinch. She met their stares with a calm that bordered on eerie, unshaken. No shame. No embarrassment.

She had been here before.

Celine took a few deliberate steps toward Stella, her bottle still in hand, a smug grin spreading across her face. "Stella, everyone says I'm just the clingy mistress, and you're the real girlfriend. But that's not true.”

Her voice cracked as she feigned crying. "I'm just sick, okay? I want Nicky to spend more time with me. You won't mind, right?”

Her words came out in desperation, but Stella didn't buy it for a second.

Stella let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. “I do mind. If you didn't mind, you wouldn't be clinging to him, would you?"

The bluntness of Stella's remark surprised Celine. She froze, and her eyes widened, unsure of how to respond. Stella had caught her off guard for once, and there was no way out.

Before Celine could regroup, Dominic stepped in, his brow furrowing in confusion and disappointment. He placed himself between them, making Stella look like she had just kicked a puppy.

"Celine has depression. Why are you picking on her?" he asked, his tone full of doubt.

He turned to Stella, his voice dripping with annoyance. "Apologize to Celine."

Stella's eyes hardened. She couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to her like that.

She gave him a cold, dismissive sneer before returning to Celine. Without missing a beat, Stella grabbed the bottle from Celine's hand, tilted it back, and downed it in one go.

Still smiling, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Enjoy yourselves, everyone, but I'll pass."

With that, she turned and walked away, heading for the bathroom.

Once inside, she vomited violently, her stomach churning as the room spun around her. It felt like she was purging every last bit of her patience, every ounce of her hope.

After a few minutes, she leaned against the bathroom sink, trying to steady herself. Her body trembled as she gathered her thoughts.

The door opened with a creak, and Celine walked in, flanked by two of her followers. The usual smile was gone, replaced by a cold, vicious glare.

The girls quickly closed in on Stella, pinning her down with ease.

Without warning, Celine slapped her. The sound of skinonskin echoed in the small space.

The sting of the slap shot through Stella's cheek, shocking her more than anything else.

"Stella,” Celine sneered, her voice laced with venom. "Do you think your little game of 'playing hard to get' is working? Do you think Nicky will fall for you because of this? Let me show you whether he loves you or me."

Stella’s eyes narrowed, her breath coming in shallow bursts, but Celine's behavior turned darker before she could speak.

In an unexpected and disturbing move, Celine began slapping herself—hard. Each strike was more forceful than the last until her face was bruised and swollen, her skin an angry shade of red. The manic laughter that followed made Stella's skin crawl.

This wasn't depression. No, this looked more like mania.

Before Stella could process what was happening, the door burst open. Dominic appeared frantic, his eyes wide with panic.

The moment Celine saw him, she collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Nicky!” she cried, her voice a jumbled mess of desperation. "I just wanted to care for Stella, but… she… she hit me! What did I do wrong?”

Her words were incoherent, her body trembling as she buried her face in his chest. "I know Stella's your girlfriend, I get it. I'm just the past, but I can't stop loving you. Do I not even have the right to love you anymore silently?”

Her tears poured down her face, her sobs so loud they seemed to fill the entire room.

Dominic's expression softened, pity flooding his gaze as he looked down at Celine. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. But then, his eyes flickered toward Stella.

Fury twisted his face.

“Stella, have you gone crazy?!” he shouted, his voice rising angrily. "How could you be so cruel?!"

His words hit Stella like a slap. 'Vicious?'

She felt a sickening twist in her stomach.

"If anything happens to Celine," Dominic hissed, "you'll pay big time!"

His words were a punch to the gut. Without waiting for her to respond, Dominic scooped Celine up in his arms, rushing toward the door with desperation.

Without a second glance at Stella, he bolted out of the room, his footsteps echoing as he rushed to the hospital.

And Stella stood there, her body trembling, her mind reeling.

Stella stepped out of the bathroom, her body trembling with discomfort. She tried to steady herself, but a sudden heat wave rushed through her.

'The alcohol from earlier... Had it been spiked?'

A sharp, cold sense of danger cut through her chest, and her heart began to race. She staggered down the hallway, but before she could get far, she collided with a man stumbling toward her. His eyes were glazed, his grin wide and unsettling. It was clear he'd been waiting for her.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Everything—everything—had been planned by Celine.

"What do you want?" Stella asked, her voice trembling as she struggled to keep her composure.

But already, her body was betraying her. Weakness seeped into her limbs, and her vision began to blur. The drug was kicking in full force.

The man let out a low chuckle, his voice dripping with hunger. "What do I want, bitch? Let's make tonight unforgettable, yeah?" He laughed again, the sound sending a chill down her spine.

Desperation surged within her. Stella stumbled back, but before she could get away, the man lunged, grabbing her wrist with a force that left her gasping.

Her fingers fumbled for her phone, her heart pounding as she dialed Dominic's number. The seconds dragged by, and all she could hear was the relentless, impersonal, busy signal.

'No... No, no, no…!'

Finally, Dominic's voice blared through the speaker when the call connected.

"How dare you call me—" he began, but Stella interrupted him.

"Dom, I've been drugged!" she gasped, her breath ragged, the words tumbling out in a rush.

There was a pause, followed by a cold, detached laugh. "Drugged? And then what? Are you trying to say some man wants to sleep with you?" Dominic's voice was mocking. "Find a better excuse for your lies, Stella. If you want to sleep with men so badly, why don't you go find a few more?"

The line went dead.

Stella felt her heart crack, the sound reverberating in her chest. Her body trembled violently, her skin pale, her breath shallow. She could barely hold herself up as the man's filthy hand reached for her again.

Panic surged like a tidal wave.

With little strength she had left, Stella grabbed the nearest hairpin, the cold metal in her hand offering her a semblance of control.

She slashed it across her arm. The pain was immediate, sharp, and blinding, but it cut through the haze of the drug, the effects starting to fade just enough for her to focus.

The blood welled up in a hot, crimson line, dripping to the floor. Stella gripped the hairpin tightly, her hand shaking, and held it to her neck.

"Stay away!" she shouted. "If you want to be a murderer, then come at me!"

Her eyes met his with an intensity that could've burned through stone. The fury in her gaze was as sharp as the hairpin in her throat, and her voice rang with a cold, unwavering determination.

She would die before letting him take even a sliver of her dignity.

The man hesitated, clearly startled by the fire in her eyes. He cursed under his breath, his face shifting from arrogance to fear.

Then, he turned and fled, muttering, "Crazy woman," as he disappeared down the hallway.

Stella stood frozen, her breath ragged, her pulse pounding in her ears. She waited, heart thumping until she was sure he was gone. Only then did she let out a long, shuddering breath of relief.

Her hands, still shaking, fumbled for her phone again. This time, she dialed the emergency number. But before she could press send, everything around her went black.

When she woke, the pain hit her first—a dull ache in her arm, a sharp throb in her stomach.

She groaned softly, her voice hoarse from the strain. "Ugh…"

A nurse rushed over, helping her sit up gently. Stella's vision cleared, and she looked down at herself. Her arm was in a cast, and there were signs of the drug still lingering on her pallor, the weakness evident in her body.

The nurse's expression softened with concern, but her tone showed a hint of disapproval.

"Miss," she said quietly, "you shouldn't be going to places like that. If you hadn't been clever enough to cut your arm and fight off the effects, you might've…"

The nurse trailed off, the unspoken words hanging like a heavy fog. She sighed deeply, as though she had seen this kind of thing too many times before, and walked away.

Stella gave a bitter, hollow smile. She hadn't asked for any of this. She had never wanted to end up in a situation like this.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. The screen lit up with dozens of messages from Dominic. When he finally couldn't stand the silence anymore, he called.

"Where are you?" His voice was tight, but the anger behind it was clear.

Stella didn't hesitate.

"The hospital," she replied flatly.

There was a brief, incredulous laugh on the other end. "So now you want to play the victim, Stella? Lying about being in the hospital to escape responsibility?”

He paused for a moment, and then his voice turned venomous. "When did you become like this? Do you even realize that Celine's depression has gotten worse because of you?"

Celine's voice dripped with sweetness on the other end of the line, like honey masking poison. She played the part of the concerned, innocent one, twisting everything to make it sound like Stella was the villain.

"Don't worry, Nicky. I'm okay. I just need some rest," Celine's voice cooed, so convincing it could've fooled anyone who didn't know her better.

Dominic's tone softened instantly, his usual coldness melting away. "Alright, baby. Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

But then, the change in his voice was unmistakable as he turned to Stella. His tone turned sharp and cold—like an order.

"Half an hour. Come to the hospital and apologize to Celine, or we're done."

Before Stella could respond, the line went dead.

Stella stared at the phone in her hand, numb. For a moment, she just laughed—a bitter, hollow sound. The laughter faltered, turning into tears, but something inside her hardened even as the tears fell. Her jaw clenched, and her eyes steeled.

Ten minutes later, Stella found herself in the hospital lobby, settling her bill. And just as fate would have it, she ran into Dominic and Celine.

When Dominic saw her in a hospital gown, his eyes widened in shock. But before he could process it, his anger erupted.

"You really are something else, huh?" Dominic sneered. "You think I'll pity you for this? Apologize to Celine right now!"

His words were like a slap, but Stella didn't flinch. She met his gaze headon, unshaken.

"Why should I?" Stella asked calmly.

Dominic's face turned an angry shade of red. "You hit her, Stella, and you're asking why?"

"I didn't hit her," Stella said, her eyes locked on Celine. "You tell me—did I hit you?"

Celine flinched, her eyes wide with fear as she ducked behind Dominic, her body trembling.

"Nicky, I'm scared…" she whimpered.

But Stella saw through it—the fear was a show, a façade. Behind her trembling eyes was the smallest smirk, just enough to make Stella's stomach churn.

"Enough!" Dominic bellowed. "You're still trying to intimidate Celine in front of me?"

Stella didn't flinch. She pushed his hand away and stood tall, unaffected.

With a calm that sent a chill down the hallway, she walked toward Celine.

"You want me to apologize?" Stella's voice was icecold. "Fine. Here's my apology."

Celine's face turned pale.

Her eyes were full of panic as she stammered, "SStella—"

Before Celine could finish, Stella slapped her hard.