I Refuse this Late

Stella stood in her high heels, looking at once imposing yet bewitching.

In the past, just seeing her like that would send me jumping toward her.

But now, my heart didn't race at all.

She never noticed, and walked closer, her heels clicking in her wake. "You've changed."

I kept my head down so that I wasn't looking at her, and she continued with her holier-art-thou tone, "I know you liked that watch, but you caused so much trouble in just two weeks. Not getting it is your punishment.

"That said, you've been disciplined today and I'm so satisfied I can grant you one wish… As long as it's not too much."

I looked up at her face, suddenly feeling nostalgic.

The first time we had met was at a party—those rich brats from the city who were told by their parents to suck up to me, were instead mocking me because of my choice of clothing.

I was too self-deprecating to fight back, let alone speak out loud.

It was Stella who stepped up, slapping their ringleader across the face and calling them bums.

After those rich brats fled, she turned to me, frowning. "You are the heir to the Sullivans. Don't cringe and cower—show some spine. They're all meant to grovel at your feet."

I stuttered, "B-But they might hate me…"

"Hate?" Stella scoffed. "No. Always remember—your last name alone is reason enough for them to fawn all over you, even if you kick them around. Understand?!"

And I had held on to those words for five years.

But in the end, Stella turned against me too, belittling me in full view of the public, calling me names or snapping at me for making a scene over the little things—even if those rich brats were the ones who had started it.

That protectiveness she showed when we first met had also long since faded, and I couldn't find any sign of it on her face now.

"Have you thought of something yet?" she urged me. "I'm on the clock. Don't be so greedy."

I had to lean against the wall as I felt the faint painful spasms in my left leg, clearing my head.

And she was the reason I was suffering.

I had told the loan sharks who I was, even calling her number—which I had committed to memory, for help.

But what had she done?

"What are you playing at this time?!" she had snapped at me over the phone. "All you do is hang out with your useless friends—won't you ever learn to improve?! The Sullivans could really do without a piece of shit like you."

Not satisfied, she went on to snap at those loan sharks.

Furious, they vented their anger on me, making me slap myself, only stopping me when my cheeks swelled and were barely recognizable, and I could feel my teeth aching.

And because my cheeks were too swollen, even eating suddenly took effort.

I couldn't even chew the buns they threw at me, so they stomped them into tiny pieces caked with dirt before shoving them into my mouth.

My stomach was churning again at the thought, but I fought against the impulse to retch and shook my head. "Sorry, there's nothing I want."

Stella lifted a brow suspiciously, and growled threateningly, "I gave you a chance but you spurned it. Just don't bother me later—I'm not that patient."

"No, I won't," I replied quietly.

All I wanted was for her to leave right then.

"You'd better not," she snorted.

For her part, she didn't insist—perhaps because she was reluctant to reward me in the first place.

She strode off, but paused a few paces away, "And don't bother Uriah anymore. There's nothing between us."

With that, she was gone before I could respond.