Chapter 1177

Chapter 1177 Chapter 1177
Such a man could only truly love after a great loss, even at the cost of death, before he could realize
what it meant to
cherish someone.
Regardless, belated love was lowlier than none.
Stella was no longer the one who would give all her heart upon receiving just a little warmth.
…
It was very late at night.
Weston stood on the balcony, holding a thick stack of papers in his hand.
They were all about Stella’s life experiences in the past three years.
He never thought that this woman would fake her death to escape from him.
And he was actually unaware of it.
He thought of the corpse she left behind three years ago. He did not even notice that it was not her at all
until the car was burned to ashes.
She had been living a prosperous life these past few years, with the Garcia family supporting her, so it
was unsurprising that he hadn’t been able to find out about
her. He was more focused on sorcery and faith, hoping that those strange powers would allow her to see him
again. But it did not occur to him that she was not dead at all.
The man’s eyes darkened as he rubbed the words on the paper.
His fingertip stopped at the name Cicily, leaving behind a black mark.
The street lights against the apartment building were shining brightly, and the neighborhood was very
quiet. Stella had moved in here for a few days. It was very near to Miguel’s workplace.
She came back also because of a collaborative project and was set to meet Bradley tomorrow.
It was said that he had now started to venture into new genres and had a great deal to offer in various
film and television shows.
She put her phone on the table. When she was just about to check on Elias and Emma, it suddenly
rang.
She had a hunch that it was Weston calling.
Sure enough, once she answered the call, she heard the man’s low voice.
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“It‘s me.”
She laughed, tapping her finger lightly on the table, pretending to be surprised, “How do you know my
number?”
The man‘s low and hoarse laugh came from the other end. “It‘s been three years, and you seem to have
really changed.”
She became ambiguous, like a little fox, mixing truth and lies when speaking with him.
He thought that she would hate and question him when they met again, but she showed plain
indifference. And she could even talk him around effortlessly.
He suddenly remembered a saying. Hate was not the end of love, indifference was.
Still smiling, she walked to the balcony and turned around. “You didn‘t call me just to say a few irrelevant
things, did you, Mr. Ford?”
Under the streetlight, the man‘s shadow was stretched out infinitely.
The silent shimmering light lingered around him as he looked at the slender back on the balcony, his
voice carrying a heavy hint of yearning. “Stella, look downstairs.”