Chapter 61

Joy Fairsprene's message arrived swiftly.

The company profile and address blinked on the screen. Stella Valentine tapped to view them.

The interview was scheduled for tomorrow at 2 PM—quite urgent.

"They just landed a major client and are short-staffed," Joy whispered over the phone. "The pay is excellent. Prepare well."

Back at the hotel, Stella immediately researched the company called "Unique Jewelry."

The name stood out.

Each customer could only custom-design a wedding ring here once in their lifetime, symbolizing unwavering devotion.

This rule had offended many wealthy clients. Some tried to reorder for second marriages, offering exorbitant sums, only to be turned away.

Stella chuckled. The owner was stubborn, turning down easy money.

But "Unique" had its appeal. Every pair of rings was exclusively designed by an assigned jeweler, one-of-a-kind worldwide. Unlike ordinary jewelry stores that mass-produced identical pieces.

This very principle tormented the designers.

Each commission demanded entirely new creations, an exhausting workload. Designers quit in droves, leaving the company perpetually hiring. To maintain quality, the owner personally screened candidates, resulting in an abysmal acceptance rate.

Recently, a mysterious tycoon had placed a ten-million-dollar order but rejected all existing designs. Hence the urgent recruitment.

By the time Stella closed her laptop, the city lights had already brightened the night.

She organized her notes and stood to switch off the lamp.

Mr. Alistair would be back soon.

Ten minutes later, the lock clicked softly.

His footsteps sounded heavier than usual.

"Have you eaten?" His voice carried a subdued gloom.

Stella shook her head.

"Why skip meals?"

"Lost track of time... Have you eaten, Mr. Alistair? I'll cook now."

She turned to leave but was abruptly pulled back.

Stumbling, she fell into his familiar embrace.

The scent of eau de cologne enveloped her. Somehow, this fragrance had become a source of comfort.

"Stella..."

His chin rested atop her head, gently rubbing.

Trapped in his arms, she tried to wriggle free.

"Don't move." His voice was hoarse. "Let me hold you. I'm exhausted. This helps."

Her heartbeat quickened. "Mr. Alistair, I'm still married. This isn't..."

"Shh." He inhaled deeply. "Think of it as a hug between friends. I'm tired. Holding you eases the pain."

Stella froze.

The Mr. Alistair she knew was always strong and composed. She'd never seen him so vulnerable.

"Have you been drinking?"

"...I wish I were drunk. Then my heart wouldn't ache like this."

"What happened?"

"Something... It's killing me." His arms tightened. "Stella, are all women this cruel?"

"Huh?"

"Cold-hearted. Cutting with their words. No mercy left."

Her chest constricted.

She understood this pain too well. During her years as Mrs. Roland, Adrian's words had sliced her open, leaving wounds that still ached when remembered.

"Cruelty isn't gendered," she murmured. "Some people refuse to listen. They only believe what suits them."

He leaned his full weight against her. "We're kindred spirits in suffering."

"...Yes. But I've realized life must have meaning. If not for others, then for family and friends. Those who are cruel—once we stop caring, they can't hurt us anymore."

Mr. Alistair went rigid.

"If we stop caring... she becomes nothing..." he repeated under his breath.

"Exactly. I'm fighting for custody of my daughter, supporting my mother, saving to reunite with my son abroad. That's what matters now."

He clutched her suddenly. "Don't go..."

"I'm not going anywhere?"

"You said you're leaving the country..." His voice grew faint. "If you go, what about me? Name your price. I'll pay it. Just stay..."

Stella sensed something amiss.

"Mr. Alistair, let me help you to bed."

Her slender frame couldn't bear his full weight.

He finally straightened but kept hold of her hand. "Promise you won't leave."

"People always move on," she said gently. "I'm doing better now, striving for those I love. You will too. Then you won't need me anymore."

"Will I?"

"Of course. You've helped me. I won't disappear. I'll stay until you find your way."

He chuckled darkly. "What if I never do?"

"You will." Stella shook her head. "A new relationship speeds up healing. You could try matchmaking, meet new people..."

"Matchmaking?" He savored the word.

"Or social mixers? I'm not sure..."

"Did you move on because you found someone new?"

She bit her lip. "We... should've ended long ago. I just finally accepted it—letting each other go."

"And in the future... would you consider someone else?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "With two children, perhaps... there's no need."

Mr. Alistair suddenly bent down, pressing a kiss to her hand.

"Stella, if you ever want to start anew," his voice was barely a whisper, "give me first consideration. Please."