Chapter 1605

Lucas floored the accelerator, racing back to his villa, where lights were blazing in both the yard and living room. As he quickened his pace, his heart leapt with a flicker of hope. No surprise, the living room was empty, devoid of the scene he longed to witness. A wry smile twisted his lips. "What was I even thinking?" He knew the Stella of now was far from the Stella he had first met. Back then, even knowing she was waiting at home, he would linger at the base of the stairs, reluctant to go up. He had deliberately crafted the illusion of a playboy lifestyle, leading her astray. His only communication with her when he got home was the cold, mechanical act of bedroom intimacy. Initially, Stella would wait up for him, her face lighting up the moment Lucas walked in. She would lean in for a kiss, her passion in their intimate moments burning bright. Afterwards, cuddling in his arms, she would whisper softly, "Lucas, let's have a baby." Though he wanted to nod in agreement, he would push her away, dressing hastily. With an icy stare, he would declare, "Stella, you don't deserve to bear my child." In that moment, Stella said nothing, but her eyes screamed the sound of her heart shattering. He was thrilled to see her upset, so he intensified his hurtful words. "Stella, I've had a vasectomy. Forget about ever carrying my child." She tried to muster a smile, asking, "Why?" "Why? You want money, I want your body; it's just a transaction between us. Don't you get it?" With those harsh words, he spun on his heel and left. He never knew how Stella spent that night alone. But seeing her in the parking lot downstairs the next day, her eyes swollen like two ripe peaches, he knew she had cried the whole night. His past misdeeds against her were countless. If he had not seen Emma's resolve to die rather than stay with Ron, he might never have realized the outrageousness of his own actions. Lucas thought he had come to his senses in time; he believed that agreeing to a divorce could still salvage something. But it was all just what he thought. He did not know that real love was never about causing pain. Unknowingly, Lucas had arrived at Stella's door. He reached for the knob, but it was locked from the inside, unyielding. He had a key; he could have forced his way in, but this time, he chose not to invade her space. As he turned to leave, the door swung open from inside. Surprised, he spun around to see Stella in fuzzy, hooded loungewear. "Stella!" "Can we talk?" Stella asked. "Sure. Whatever you want to talk about, I'm here," Lucas said. "Are you hungry?" she inquired. "You're hungry, aren't you? I'll get Patricia to whip up some late-night snacks right away," he said. Stella began descending the stairs. "No need to bother Patricia. I'll just fix something quick for myself." For years, she had been bustling around movie sets with an assistant always at her side, a sight Lucas had witnessed, but he had never seen her cook. "You know how to cook?" Stella remained silent.