Once His, Now My Own

Stella's POV

When my wound was treated, it was already early morning. Normally, I’d have been home by now, preparing breakfast and waiting for Ethan to join me at the table. But today, I didn’t go home. Instead, I headed straight to the company.

Ethan saw me at my desk and immediately called me into his office. His face was as dark as a storm cloud. "Why didn’t you make breakfast?" His voice was clipped, unusually cold.

This was the first time Ethan had ever mentioned something personal at work. In the past, he’d snap at me if I dared to mix work and personal matters. Even if I only reminded him that he needed to eat on time to avoid having a stomach ache, I would only get scolded for not focusing on my job. I’d hear the same line every time: "If you don't want to work, go home and play housewife."

Recalling that, I kept my composure, staring at his stern face, and said, "If you called me in here just for personal matters, I’ll head back to work now." My voice was calm, but my words sliced through the tension.

Ethan’s frown deepened. He yanked open his desk drawer and threw a gift box onto the table, the lid flipping open as it landed. "This was custom-made for you. Took a month."

Peeking out of the box was a pair of silver high heels, glinting in the light. I didn’t need to ask where they came from. Half a month ago, Lily had posted a sneering post on social media read as: [Prince says a princess should wear custom-made crystal shoes and an old hag only deserves mismatched leftovers from a street stall.]

I snapped the box shut and pushed it back across his desk. "I’m not used to such nice things. Give them to someone else," I said, turning to leave.

"Stella, wait!" Ethan’s voice hardened, stopping me at the door. "I only scolded you at Thanksgiving dinner because you were being petty, picking on Lily. And last night, I told you to wait for me to bring back the medicine, but when I returned, you were no longer there. Now you’re giving me attitude?"

I faced him, my eyes cold. "I wasn’t giving you attitude." The words were quiet, but they seemed to fan the flames of his anger.

"Stop acting so ungrateful!" His voice rose, sharp as a whip. "You’re just a dumb, unwanted, old hag. Do you even realize how old you are? Competing with girls in their twenties—how dare you?"

There it was—his favorite insult. I used to let those words cut me deeply. I’d cry, ask him if he regretted marrying me, beg for some scrap of affection. But today, the sting was gone. I was numb.

I lifted the hem of my skirt, showing my white sneakers.

"I wear a size 37," I said, my voice innocent. The heels were a size 40.

Ethan blinked, momentarily speechless. He opened his mouth, maybe to defend himself, but my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, answering as Ethan watched, his eyes narrowing when he heard the voice on the other end belonged to a man.

When the call ended, he couldn’t hold back. "Who was that?" he asked, his tone accusatory.

Without missing a beat, I glanced at the screen, the name "Divorce Lawyer" still flashing. "You wouldn’t know him," I replied, my voice icy as I turned and left the office.

Ethan tried to follow, but his path was blocked by the secretary. I could hear him shouting for me as I made my way out of the building, but his voice was just a distant echo now.

Hours later, as the workday was winding down, Ethan insisted on taking me out for dinner. Before I could protest, he practically shoved me into the passenger seat of his car.

As we drove, my eyes fell on a tacky ornament dangling in front of the windshield—a pair of plastic lips in a kissing pose. Beside it, a sticker with the words "Reserved for Lily" sat, glaringly out of place.

Ethan noticed my gaze and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Lily was just joking around when she put that there. Don’t take it seriously."

I gave a noncommittal "hmm" and glanced out the window.

Ethan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with my indifference. "Aren’t you going to put your lucky charm on the dashboard, like you always do?"

Two weeks ago, I would’ve ripped Lily’s things from the car and replaced them with my own. I would’ve fought and demanded space for myself in his life. But now? I didn’t care enough to bother.

"It looks fine like this," I said, my voice soft but final.

Ethan’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, his grip tightening as silence settled between us.

The car eventually stopped at the harbor, where the deafening thump of music from a private yacht filled the air, even before we stepped out. My head pounded. I hated loud noises—something Ethan knew all too well. After nearly drowning as a child, any loud environment made my ears ring, and it always brought back that familiar sense of dread.

For that reason, Ethan had even gone out of his way to arrange our wedding on a quiet, uninhabited island, avoiding the noise and chaos years ago. But now? Here he was, dragging me onto a yacht blaring with music. My discomfort was written all over my face, and I tried to leave, but Ethan grabbed my wrist, forcing me to board.

He turned to the driver and ordered, "Start the engine."