Stella’s POV
For a wild moment, I thought it might be him. But no – the screen displayed "Anna Winston" with its usual cold formality.
Perfect timing, "Mother."
I took a deep breath, forcing my voice into perfect social-butterfly sweetness. "Hello?"
"Stella." Her voice dripped with venom. "How dare you humiliate my Lucy in public?"
Ah. News travels fast in our circles. "I wasn't aware telling the truth counted as humiliation these days."
"You ungrateful little—" She took an audible"Truth?" She barked out a harsh laugh. "The truth is that you're nothing but a trash. We gave you everything – education, status, opportunities – and this is how you repay us? By stealing Lucy's fiancé and then slandering her in public?"
The familiar pain bloomed in my chest, but I refused to let it show in my voice. "First, I didn't steal anyone. Lucy made sure of that when she jumped into Brian's bed while we were still engaged. Second," I continued, " I'm Mrs. Lancaster now."
Breath. "Well, Mrs. Lancaster , do you know how's your dear grandmother doing in that nursing home? It would be such a shame if something happened to her care arrangements..."
Ice settled in my stomach. "Leave her out of our issues."
"Then apologize to Lucy. Publicly. Admit you lied about her and Brian."
"No." My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. "Twenty years of your 'generosity' were repaid the moment I married Adam. Your threats have no power anymore."
"What?" Her laugh turned ugly. "That old woman means nothing to me. If she suffers because her fake granddaughter couldn't keep her mouth shut... well, that's hardly my concern, is it?"
The line went dead before I could respond. I stared at the phone, my hand shaking with suppressed rage.
Deep breaths, Stella. Don't let them see you crack.
A text from Sam popped up: "Stella, what happened? The society blogs are buzzing about some drama at the mall!"
I ignored it, already pulling up the ride-sharing app. I had somewhere more important to be.
\---
Brooklyn Nursing Home looked exactly as depressing as it had last week. The walls were an institutional shade of beige seemed universal to all budget care facilities.
"Grandma?" I knocked softly on her door, my heart clenching at how small she looked in that narrow bed.
Her face lit up when she saw me. "Stella! What a lovely surprise." She patted the bed beside her with one frail hand. "Come, tell me how your husband treating you."
I perched carefully on the edge of the bed, taking in the new lines around her eyes, the way her hospital gown hung looser than before. I need to get her out of here.
"He is...good." I forced a smile, not wanting to worry her. "The Lancaster mansion is beautiful. Very grand."
"Stella." Her hand found mine, still steady despite her age. "I've known you since you were five years old. What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" I said too quickly. At her knowing look, I sighed. "It's complicated, Grandma. The marriage... it wasn't exactly a love match."
"Few marriages in our circles are, dear." She squeezed my hand gently. "Your grandfather and I barely knew each other when we married. But we grew to love each other deeply."
"That's different." I bit my lip. "Adam... he doesn't even want me there. Today he—" I cut myself off, not wanting to worry her with details of our complicated relationship.
"He kissed you."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "How did you...?"
She chuckled. "Your lips are still a bit swollen, dear. And you've touched them three times since you sat down."
"Oh God." I buried my face in my hands, mortified.
"Was it a good kiss?" The mischief in her voice made her sound decades younger.
"Grandma!"
"Well?"
"It was..." Devastating. Completely confusing. "Unexpected."
"The best ones usually are." Her smile turned wistful. "Your grandfather surprised me with our first kiss too. Right in the middle of an argument about another man."
"Grandma, please let me move you to a better facility. St. John's has an excellent geriatric wing, and—"
"No." Her voice was firm despite its weakness. "I'm fine here."
"But—"
"Stella." She fixed me with that look that had stopped my childhood tantrums in their tracks. "I won't have you spending your money on me. Save it for my great-grandchildren instead."
I choked on air. "Grandma! We're nowhere near— I mean, Adam and I aren't—"
Her laugh was worth all the embarrassment. "Not yet, perhaps. But I've seen how you blush when you talk about him." She patted my hand again. "Just promise me one thing?"
"Anything."
"When you do have children, bring them to visit me. I'd love to hold your baby before I go."
My throat tightened. "Don't talk like that. You're not going anywhere."
"Everyone goes somewhere eventually, dear." Her smile was gentle. "But I'd like to stick around long enough to see you happy. Really happy, not just playing the perfect society wife."
I had to swallow hard before I could speak. "I promise."
\---
The neon sign of Rouge cast a red glow over the upscale Manhattan street. I pulled my baseball cap down over my eyes as I walked up to the VIP entrance; the last thing I wanted was to be recognized after the drama at the mall today.
"ID?" The bouncer barely glanced at me.
I pulled out my special access card – one of the perks of being the club's secret owner. His eyes widened slightly as he scanned it, then quickly ushered me inside.
Adam sat at the bar in an impeccably tailored suit, his wheelchair nowhere in sight. Beside him, Taylor watched the crowd with his usual careful attention.
"Sir," Taylor's voice carried even over the music. "Is that... Mrs. Lancaster?"
Adam's head turned sharply. Even across the crowded club, his gaze was still following me.
But I was unaware of it.
“Why she come here? So interesting.”he murmured.