Chapter 11

Stella woke to the shrill ringing of her phone, the sound cutting through the remnants of her sleep. Groggy and disoriented, she fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. The screen displayed her grandfather's name, and she sighed, bracing herself for another round of his relentless demands.

"Hello," she answered, her voice thick with sleep.

"Did I wake you up?" Old Man Stallion's tone held a mix of concern and impatience.

"Of course," she snapped, her tone laced with righteous indignation. "I worked all through the night and had just laid down to calm my throbbing head, only for you to make it even harder."

There was a brief pause, and the old man sighed. "I'm sorry, Stella, but this is important. I need you to book a reservation for the family meeting and ensure you're there early."

"Grandpa," she said, exasperation evident in her voice, "have you ever stopped to consider that the Dalton family might have ulterior motives for being so insistent on this marriage?"

He sighed again, this time heavier. "You don't need to worry about that. I believe Alex truly cares for you. He's loved you since you were a child."

Stella scoffed, rolling her eyes even though he couldn't see her. "Then it seems your eyesight is failing you, Grandpa. If you weren't so blinded by your plans, you'd have noticed the malicious glint in Alex's eyes—something he always tries, and fails, to hide."

The old man's silence spoke volumes. For a moment, she thought she might have struck a chord, but his next words dashed any hope of reason. "You're overthinking it, Stella. Focus on the bigger picture."

Grinding her teeth, Stella ended the call with a curt goodbye. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly with frustration. Her family's blind ambition felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, and she struggled to draw a steady breath.

She glanced at the clock. Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, signaling the start of another battle-filled day. Taking a deep breath, she whispered to herself, "I need to finish what I've started. One step at a time."

Feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, Stella stepped out of the bathroom, her resolve stronger than ever. She dressed swiftly, slipping into a sleek yet comfortable outfit. As she entered the sitting room, the sight of Jackson, wide awake and setting the table for breakfast, greeted her. His casual movements and calm demeanor brought a small smile to her lips.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, she thought.

The breakfast was simple but filling, and as they sat across from each other, Stella decided to broach the subject weighing on her mind. "I think we should draw up a contract with rules for this arrangement," she began cautiously, her tone firm yet diplomatic.

To her surprise, Jackson shook his head with a slight smile. "Let's save that for after we're married," he said, his tone calm but resolute.

His response caught her off guard, but she didn't argue. There was no point pushing further when the next step was clear. After breakfast, they set out. The drive to her family's home was filled with a quiet anticipation, each lost in their thoughts. Jackson waited in the car while Stella went inside, using the excuse of retrieving a file to gather her identification documents and anything else she might need to finalize her plans.

Returning to the car, she gave Jackson a nod, and they drove to the registration office. The process was swift, almost surreal. One moment, she was signing her name on the dotted line, and the next, the clerk handed her the official marriage certificate.

Stella stared at the document in disbelief, the weight of it sinking in. Just this morning, she was a single woman battling her family's expectations, and now, she was someone's wife.

Before she could process the moment fully, Jackson gently took the certificate from her hands. "I'll keep this," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Stella glanced at him, her emotions a whirlwind of relief, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope. This was just the beginning, she reminded herself. There was still much to figure out, but for now, she had bought herself some time. And with Jackson by her side, she felt a strange sense of security she hadn't expected.

Stepping out of the center, Stella was greeted by the icy chill of the air, which soothed her racing heart. The calmness settled over her as she reveled in the moment of peace. But as she took a step forward, a voice she hadn't heard in years froze her in her tracks, and her step faltered. Slowly, she turned, her breath hitching at the sight that greeted her.

Jackson, noticing the change in her demeanor, quickly reached out to steady her. His calm, steady presence was a stark contrast to the chaos she felt within. The owner of the voice approached with a confident stride.

"Stella, how have you been?"

Morris Bruce—the heir to the Bruce family. Rumored to be gentle and kind, but Stella knew better. She alone had witnessed the devil hidden beneath that angelic face. As she stood there, staring at the man who had once made her heart race, she felt a wave of emotions she struggled to navigate.

Jackson observed her closely, noting her unease. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder in a protective gesture, he silently conveyed his claim. The two men locked eyes, engaging in a silent battle of wills.

Gathering her composure, Stella finally spoke, her voice steady though her heart wavered. "When did you come back?"

Morris smiled, his expression as warm and inviting as a spring breeze. He ignored Jackson's presence entirely. "I returned last week. And this time, Stella, I intend to keep my promise."

Her lips curved into a smile, though her eyes glinted with mischief. She had sorted through her emotions and knew exactly how to respond. "Oh, that's wonderful," she said lightly. "I'm sure you will—with someone who's worth it. Oh, by the way, let me introduce you. Meet my husband, Jackson Lloyd."

Morris's smile faltered, the proud facade slipping ever so slightly. He hadn't expected Stella to boldly introduce another man as her husband. Reluctantly, he extended his hand toward Jackson, who accepted it with calm composure. The handshake was brief, but the tension in the air was palpable.

"Well, Mr. Bruce," Stella said, turning away with a confident air. "We won't be accompanying you further. We have far more important matters to attend to."

Without another glance, she grabbed Jackson's hand and led him away. Morris stood frozen, his clenched fist a clear indicator of his palpable anger. His gaze followed them, his thoughts a storm of frustration and disbelief. For the first time, he felt like he had truly lost something—something he wasn't ready to let go and not without a fight.