Chapter 327

Michael Anderson shot Charles Hart a smug glance, slid his arm around Stella Johnson’s waist, and walked confidently through the crystal doors, leaving a wave of stunned silence behind them. The chilly evening breeze sneaked into the banquet hall, catching the hem of Stella’s dress and chilling Charles to the bone. He stood frozen, eyes dropping to the necklace lying by his feet—it still held a trace of her warmth. The pendant gleamed under the lights, etched with the word “Yao,” its cold shine hitting him like a slap. The murmurs, the camera flashes—everything faded to a blur, except for that one glance she gave him before turning away. It pierced straight through him. “Mr. Hart…” his assistant spoke cautiously, only to be shut down by the storm raging in Charles’s eyes. He slowly bent down, picked up the necklace. The platinum chain was icy and its harsh edges stung his skin. With eyes locked on where Stella had disappeared, he let out a low, bitter laugh, sharp as glass. Michael And