Chapter 51

Compared to Guinevere, a woman like Stella would be considered pleasant-looking at most. Without
the habit of wearing make-up, Stella often wore her face bare and plain. Naturally, she did not stand out
much in terms of looks.

Guinevere, on the other hand, was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Blessed with good genes and
pampered since childhood, she became famous at a tender age and spared no effort in maintaining her
looks.

Based on this alone, Stella ultimately bore no threat to Guinevere.

However…

Guinevere shut her eyes, her face contorted with pain, deep struggle, and confusion. “Why did Weston
choose to marry her back then? She wasn’t outstanding in any area, was she?”

In fact, she might have felt better if Stella were an outstanding beauty that exceeded her.

That way, she would be able to understand Weston’s choice.

Just as it was choosing a vase or selecting a set of jewelry, it only made sense to go for the most
expensive and eye-catching one. Affections may not necessarily come into play.

Stella was decent looking, with delicate facial features that made her pleasant to look at. However,
there was no lack of decent-looking ladies around Weston. As long as he was willing, hordes of
beauties would be willing to throw themselves at him. Why did it have to be Stella?

Henry pushed his wheelchair to the window.



His silent posture betrayed the simmering impatience in him. Guinevere had no choice but to stand up.
“Alright, let’s stop talking about me. I came here to tell you something-Weston and I went to Freemont
City and spoke to Dr. Quirk about your leg…”

She looked behind her and saw Henry’s figure shrouded in darkness. She couldn’t help but walk
toward him. “She won’t be returning. Henry, even if you were to remain wheelchair bound for the rest of
your life, she will never come back to you.

“Forget about her. Move on.”

From her angle, she could only silently watch him from his back. She couldn’t see his eyes that had
grown cold, and neither could she see the plant he had tenderly cared for that lay torn in his hands.



Its green leaves fell one by one, and their sap seeped through his palms as he crushed them. After a
long while, the corners of his lips curved upward. “You’re right. We should always be moving on in life.”

He pushed his wheelchair out and swept his hands as if nothing had happened.

Typically speaking, Guinevere would have taken a hint and left. However, because of the inexplicable
frustration mounting inside her, she couldn’t help but complain, despite knowing that Henry was
reluctant to hear more. “When we went to Freemont City, do you know who I

met at Dr. Quirk’s house?”

“Who?” Henry asked indifferently.

Guinevere lowered her gaze towards the white table. “I saw a woman who looked a lot like Stella, so
much that I think…she might even be Stella herself.” “Could two people look so similar..?” she



mumbled to herself.

Freemont City.

When Stella reached home, she opened the door as quietly as she could, thinking that Roger was
probably already asleep.

She hung her keys at the doorway and heard footsteps in the hall.

She looked up and saw that Roger was still awake. He had just walked out of the bathroom, his skin
still moist from a bath. He was drying his hair with a towel as he looked at Stella, “Why are you back so
late? I thought you’d be spending the night outside.”

Stella exhaled aloud and shrugged off her jacket before hanging it on the clothes rack. She walked
towards him and rubbed his forehead, “Washing your hair in the middle of the night again? Watch out
for a headache tomorrow morning when you wake up.”

Roger was at least a head taller than her, and she had to tiptoe to reach his forehead.

He slung his arm around Stella’s shoulder as they sat down on the couch. “You haven’t told me whose
house you just went to?”


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