Chapter 187 Escape
Chapter 187 Escape
As those tender words fell, the soft lighting in the room illuminated Mason's handsome, refined profile. But those eyes that moments ago had been filled with concern and warmth instantly shed all temperature, a thin layer of coldness spreading across them. The gentle mask cracked, revealing a clear fracture.
He looked down at the girl before him—eyes full of panic, heart desperate only to escape—and his thin lips parted. His tone remained calm yet carried an unyielding firmness that left no room for negotiation, "No."
"Stella, except for letting you go home, I can give you anything you want, let you do anything you wish."
Stella stared at him blankly, the last trace of hope in her eyes extinguished completely.
She closed her eyes, her long lashes falling powerlessly, hiding all the despair and wariness beneath. She didn't say another word.
Watching her suddenly lifeless state, Mason assumed she was still trapped in the terror of witnessing the killing earlier. A trace of sympathy stirred in his chest, and he chose not to press her further.
He softened his expression and reached out to gently brush away the disheveled hair from her forehead, his movements exquisitely tender. "Get some rest."
With that, he turned and left the bedroom.
Throughout the endless night, Stella never slept.
She curled up in the corner of the large bed, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her body still trembling with cold, without a trace of drowsiness.
The images replayed endlessly in her mind—the blood-soaked courtyard, Mason killing with cold indifference. Every scene made her heart pound with terror.
She lived in constant fear that having witnessed his secret, she would be silently eliminated.
This seemingly luxurious, exquisite villa was nothing but a gilded cage, and Mason was the demon controlling her life and death.
That night, she longed for Richard's appearance more desperately than ever before.
Meanwhile, in a hidden private stronghold in Astoria, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.
Richard hadn't heeded Mason's warning to leave the city at all.
He'd immediately mobilized all his overseas connections and resources, sparing no expense, trying every means possible to locate Stella and find an opportunity to rescue her.
But only now did he fully understand—Mason had been entrenched in Astoria for years, his influence deeply rooted and far-reaching. Here, he ruled with absolute power.
A subordinate stood nearby, reporting the situation with a grave expression, advising him to return home temporarily and strategize for the long term.
Richard's fingertips clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His eyes were bloodshot, his entire being radiating violent intent. There wasn't a hint of compromise.
"Don't bother trying to convince me."
His voice was hoarse, carrying the determination of someone burning all bridges behind him. "I'll stake my life if I have to, but I'm bringing Stella home safely."
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
Stella had completely shut herself off, remaining silent all day, refusing water and food, not swallowing a single bite.
She used a hunger strike as silent resistance, trying to force Mason to compromise and let her go.
The servants reported the situation repeatedly over several days. Watching Stella grow thinner, her face increasingly pale and haggard, Mason finally couldn't restrain himself. He personally carried a warm, appetizing dinner and entered the bedroom.
The table was laden with exquisitely prepared, stomach-soothing dishes, all specially made according to her tastes.
Mason placed the tray on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. Lowering his stance, he coaxed her with patience and gentleness, his tone impossibly soft. "You haven't eaten for three days. Your stomach will hurt. Won't you eat just a little?"
Stella turned her head away, avoiding his gaze, her lips pressed thin, still saying nothing.
Watching her stubborn appearance, helplessness flashed through Mason's eyes. He spoke in gentle compromise. "What will it take for you to eat?"
Stella slowly turned her head to look at him, her eyes carrying exhaustion yet still persistent pleading as she spoke again. "Let me go home, and I'll eat."
Mason's eyes darkened slightly, but ultimately he couldn't bear watching her continue torturing herself. After a moment's consideration, he spoke slowly. "Eat. After you finish, I'll take you out of the villa to the downtown shopping district. I'll buy you new clothes—whatever you want."
Hearing about going out, a faint glimmer flickered in her lifeless eyes. Stella's gaze briefly lit up with barely perceptible brightness.
As long as she could leave this prison of a villa, as long as she reached the crowded downtown area, she would definitely find an opportunity to call for help. She would definitely escape successfully.
She suppressed the surging excitement in her chest and stopped being stubborn. Silently picking up the spoon, she began eating the food before her in small bites.
Seeing her finally willing to eat, the tension in Mason's jaw that had persisted for days gradually relaxed. A faint, gentle smile curved his lips, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her face, full of adoration.
As long as she would eat properly and gradually accept him, he was willing to wait with all the patience in the world.
After the meal ended, while Mason went to the garage to prepare the car, Stella seized the opportunity. Moving casually to the living room coffee table, her fingertips quickly swept across the surface as she quietly slipped a small, sharp fruit knife into the inner side of her loose sleeve, hiding it securely.
With this knife, she could defend herself at critical moments or use it to threaten others and call for help.
Half an hour later, a black luxury car pulled smoothly up to the entrance of the largest luxury shopping center downtown.
The mall was bustling with people, lively and noisy—a stark contrast to the oppressively silent atmosphere of the villa. Stella watched the crowds flowing around her, her heartbeat involuntarily accelerating, the urge to escape growing stronger.
She remained distracted throughout, her gaze wandering everywhere, with no interest in browsing any of the beautiful dresses or jewelry.
But anything her eyes swept over, anything her fingertips inadvertently touched, would immediately be packaged by staff and purchased by Mason's people without exception.
He never cared about price. Anything she glanced at even once, he wanted to present to her in its entirety.
After browsing for a while, Stella found the right moment. She looked at the female sales associate following her and spoke softly. "I'd like to try on that dress inside privately. Could you come in and help me coordinate some accessories?"
The associate immediately agreed and followed her into a private fitting room.
The instant the fitting room door closed, Stella's eyes sharpened. She swiftly pulled out the fruit knife hidden in her sleeve, clamped one hand over the associate's mouth, and pressed the blade lightly against her throat. Lowering her voice, urgent and tense, she said, "Don't make a sound. Give me your phone right now!"
The associate froze in terror, pupils contracting sharply. Not daring to resist, she trembled as she pulled her phone from her pocket and obediently handed it to Stella.
Stella's fingertips shook as she quickly unlocked the phone. Drawing on the number burned into her heart, she dialed Richard's number.
The phone rang for barely two seconds before being answered instantly.
A low, hoarse voice—exhausted yet utterly familiar—came clearly through the receiver. "Hello?"
That voice she'd thought of day and night echoed in her ears. All the fear, grievance, and despair accumulated over these days erupted completely in that moment.
Hot tears burst from her eyes instantly, streaming down her cheeks. Stella's nose stung, her eyes reddened. She opened her mouth, about to cry out for help.
But just one second before she could make a sound, the tightly closed fitting room door was violently pushed open from outside.