Chapter 3: Fine Line Between Pain and Love

Stella’s POV

Morning light crept through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold. I blinked the sleep from my eyes, taking a moment to gather my bearings. The memory of last night—the text message, the suspicions, the storm of questions—still lingered like a shadow. But as I sat up and ran a hand through my hair, my thoughts went to Lily.

Quietly, I padded down the hall to her room, pushing the door open just a crack. My steps faltered when I saw the scene before me.

Jack was there.

He was lying beside Lily, sound asleep, one arm protectively curled near her. His face, usually hard and sharp like chiseled marble, was softened by sleep. He looked… peaceful. For a moment, I couldn’t move. The sight of him like this—so unguarded, so unlike the man I knew—tugged at something inside me.

Why is my heart beating like this?

I inched closer, my curiosity outweighing my better judgment. My eyes roamed over him, lingering on the strong lines of his jaw, the faint stubble brushing his skin, and the way his dark lashes rested against his cheeks. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and I found myself lost in the simple beauty of him.

What are you doing, Stella?

But I couldn’t stop. My hand moved almost of its own will, reaching out to brush a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead. My fingers lingered for just a second longer than they should have, and when I realized it, I pulled back quickly.

What was I doing?

Love? The word floated into my mind like a whisper. Could something as ridiculous as love even exist between us? I scoffed inwardly. It couldn’t. It shouldn’t. Not with him. Not when our relationship was little more than a contract binding me to him. Not when I only had a few months left to live.

My chest ached. Love was a luxury I couldn’t afford, not now. I was dying, and I had no right to think about love, let alone feel it for Jack Norman.

But why did it feel so natural to imagine what could be?

“Leaving so soon?”

I froze.

I turned back slowly, my heart leaping to my throat. Jack was awake, his brown eyes locked onto mine. His hand—firm and warm—was wrapped around my wrist. How long had he been awake?

“N-No,” I stammered, trying to sound composed. “I was just checking on Lily.”

He didn’t let go. Instead, he sat up, his gaze piercing through me as if he could see every thought I was desperately trying to bury. “If you were checking on Lily, then why were you staring at me?”

His question felt like a punch to the gut.I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering as his words hung in the air. My throat felt dry, my mind scrambling for a response that wouldn’t make me look foolish. “I… I wasn’t staring,” I muttered weakly, pulling my hand free from his grasp.

Jack’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Lying doesn’t suit you, Stella.” His voice was low, teasing yet sharp, like he knew he was getting under my skin.

I turned away quickly, desperate to put distance between us. “I’m going to the kitchen,” I said, almost to myself. I needed air. I needed space. Anything to escape the pull he had on me—the way his presence made my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

Behind me, I heard Jack chuckle softly under his breath, as though he enjoyed watching me flustered.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, though Jack’s words lingered, needling at the back of my mind. By evening, I was determined to shake off the awkward tension. I sat by Lily’s bed after dinner, reading her a story while she smiled up at me with sleepy eyes. For a few precious moments, everything felt normal. It was just me and her, cocooned in our own quiet world.

Then Maria appeared in the doorway. “Stella, Mr. Jack is calling for you. He says you need to get ready.”

I frowned. “Ready? For what?”

Maria shrugged. “He said you’ll find out soon enough.”

Confused, I kissed Lily’s forehead and made my way to the master bedroom. On the bed, there was a bag—a sleek, black designer bag—and inside, the most stunning dress I’d ever laid eyes on. It was a deep red gown, silk that shimmered under the light, with a daring slit up the side. The silver heels and matching clutch completed the look.

Why would he get this for me?

When I stepped into the gown and glanced at myself in the mirror, I hardly recognized the woman staring back. The dress hugged my figure, the color making my skin glow. For the first time in years, I felt beautiful. I felt like the woman I used to be before life had shattered me.

Jack was waiting downstairs, his hands in his pockets. When I approached, I felt my heart race, though I told myself it was just the effect of the gown.

But Jack barely glanced at me.

“We’re late,” he said, walking straight past me toward the car.

I blinked, the disappointment sharp, though I pushed it away quickly. Of course he wouldn’t care.

The ride to the event was silent, the tension between us like a wall. I didn’t know where we were going, and Jack wasn’t offering any answers. I watched the city lights blur past the window, feeling small in his presence—like a shadow fading beside a storm.

When we arrived, my breath caught in my throat. It was a gala, the kind of event I used to dream about when I was younger—a glittering ballroom filled with society’s elite. But as we stepped inside, something about the atmosphere made my skin crawl. People turned to stare at us, whispers trailing behind us like smoke.

Jack walked ahead, effortlessly commanding the room. I followed, smiling politely as he greeted people, though I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling settling in my chest.

And then I saw her.

Rachel.

She was standing across the room, arm-in-arm with Eric Ashford—my Eric. The man who had promised me forever before walking away when I needed him most.

Rachel’s gaze met mine, and I froze. She smirked as she made her way toward me, her heels clicking against the marble floor like a warning. I wanted to leave, to disappear before she could reach me, but my legs wouldn’t move.

“Going so soon?” Rachel’s voice was dripping with fake sweetness as she stopped in front of me.

I forced a smile, trying to keep my composure. “No, I was just getting some air.”

Rachel’s eyes swept over me, her smirk deepening. “It’s been so long, Stella. You don’t look bad, considering…”

I clenched my jaw. “You don’t look bad either. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice syrupy. Then, as though she were dropping a bomb wrapped in velvet, she said, “I wanted to tell you—sorry for the loss of your baby. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”

My heart stopped.

The room seemed to tilt, the sounds around me muffling. My baby. The baby I had lost eight years ago—the one no one knew about. How did she know?

“What are you talking about?” I whispered, my voice shaky.

Rachel’s smile widened, her expression smug. “Oh, come now, Stella. We all have secrets, don’t we? But yours? Yours is one for the books.”

Before I could react, I felt a hand on my arm. Jack was there, his gaze darting between Rachel and me, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Is everything alright here?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Rachel looked up at him, her mask of sweetness slipping into place. “Of course, Jack. I was just catching up with Stella.”

Jack’s grip on my arm tightened slightly, as though he could sense the tension between us. “Excuse us,” he said sharply, pulling me away from Rachel before I could say another word.

I let him lead me through the crowd, my mind spinning. Rachel’s words echoed in my ears, refusing to be silenced. “Sorry for the loss of your baby.”

How did she know? Who else knew?

“Stella,” Jack’s voice broke through my haze. We were standing near an alcove, away from prying eyes. He looked down at me, his brow furrowed. “What did she mean by that?”

I shook my head, tears pricking my eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled, his voice sharp. “What baby was she talking about?”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past.”

“It matters to me,” he said, his voice softening. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

My chest ached as I looked up at him, torn between wanting to tell him everything and wanting to bury the truth forever. But before I could say a word, my phone buzzed in my clutch.

I pulled it out, my hands shaking as I read the message from the same anonymous sender:

“I know the truth. Meet me tomorrow at St. Agnes Hospital. Same ward. Same time. Eight years ago.”

My heart dropped.

Jack noticed my expression, his eyes darkening. “Who is it? What’s wrong?”

I swallowed hard, shoving the phone back into my bag. “It’s nothing,” I whispered, though I knew the lie was paper-thin.

Jack studied me for a moment, his gaze piercing through me. “You’re hiding something.”

I turned away, unable to face him. “I just need some air.”

Without waiting for his reply, I walked away, my steps unsteady as I made my way toward the balcony. The night air hit me like a slap, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside me.

The truth—the one I had buried for so long—was clawing its way to the surface. If this anonymous sender knew what happened eight years ago, then everything I had tried to protect could come crashing down.

And worse—what if Lily really was my daughter?

The thought terrified me. If Jack ever found out… if the truth ever came out…

I gripped the balcony railing, my knuckles white.

I had to find out the truth. Tomorrow.

But little did I know, tomorrow would change everything.