Chapter 142

Anger boiled inside Stella.

She could sense that the man in front of her was enraged.

His hand pinned her shoulder down so hard it felt like he intended to break her bones.

Weston held her tightly in his arms, wishing badly that he could keep every piece of her to himself.

He couldn’t contain his rage at the sight of her smiling at the guy. It was only after they kissed that he
felt somewhat better.

As he smooched her, his hands couldn’t stop moving around her body. In utter disgust, Stella shoved
him away with all her might. “Let go of me!”

She was really fighting hard to not let him touch her anymore.

His kisses and affection only repelled her.

But the more she resisted him, the more enraged he became. “So you’re willing to degrade yourself in
order to satisfy him and his son, but wouldn’t do it for me?”

His voice boomed. “How old is he?” 40? His kid is barely 10 years younger than you! Come be my
son’s stepmother if you like being ine.”

As he spoke, he started to tear her shirt’s button.

Stella’s trembled with fear, and without thinking, she slapped him hard on the face. Weston wasn’t
prepared for that. A loud crisp smack echoed in the room.

He looked up slightly and held himself up.





She jerked back as soon as she opened her eyes. She could see his face through the gap in her palm.
Aside from the smack she gave him earlier, there were additional bruises on his face, such as a bruised
corner of his lips. She didn’t know who he was fighting with, but she didn’t care. She just thought what
he said before was awful. “I’d rather die than be your and Guinevere’s son’s stepmother!” I’ll never
forget how my kid died.” It was that kid again.

Weston shut his eyes as the memories haunted him.

He knew Stella dreaded the kid the most, and it had turned into a vengeance she harbored. But it
wasn’t like he was feeling any better about it. He clenched his fist and suddenly slammed it on the wall.
A stream of blood cascaded down his fingers and down the wall. The dense bloodstains formed a
beautiful but frightening pattern.

The room went quiet.

Their heavy breathing was the only thing that could be heard. Stella avoided his gaze. When he has
calmed himself, he looks at her coldly before taking off his jacket and throwing it at her.

“Wear this.”

She didn’t catch the jacket, nor did she move an inch. She just stood there and stared at him quietly.

Her crystal-clear eyes were filled with hatred, with her unkempt hair hung down the sides of her face.
Even in the little light, she was stunning.

Weston shifted his gaze away. “If you don’t want people to see you like that, put on the jacket.” She
smiled and mocked, “I’m in this state because of you. You’re always like that. You were wrong at first
but pretended to show a bit of kindness.”






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