Chapter 16

Stella paced back and forth in her small apartment, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The walls seemed to close in on her as frustration boiled over. She had been stewing in her anger for weeks, ever since Sylvester had gotten the upper hand once again.

“How is it possible?!” she shouted, her voice echoing in the cramped space. “How can one man be so untouchable? So invincible?”

She stormed over to the window and pulled the curtain aside, staring out at the city. Her reflection glared back at her, eyes wild, hair a mess from hours of tugging at it in frustration. **Sylvester was still out there, living his life, controlling everything, while she was stuck in this apartment, plotting, waiting.**

"This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” she muttered under her breath, pacing again. “I was supposed to have him in the palm of my hand by now. He should be crawling on his knees, begging for mercy.” She could feel the anger rising like bile in her throat. It was unbearable.

Stella slammed her hand on the table, sending papers scattering. “Damn it! I can’t even get close to him. He’s always a step ahead. Every plan, every little scheme I’ve come up with, he’s thwarted it like it was nothing!”

Her phone buzzed on the counter, but she ignored it. There was no point in answering. It was probably just another useless call, another update on how Sylvester’s life continued to move forward unscathed while hers remained stagnant. She wanted blood, not pointless updates.

“How does he do it?” she growled, turning to face the empty room as if it held the answers. “He’s not that smart. He can’t be. He’s just lucky.”

But luck couldn’t explain everything. Stella knew that much. Sylvester had power. Connections. A kind of influence that seemed to shield him from any real harm. Every time she thought she had him cornered, he slipped through her fingers like water. And now, she was the one trapped, cornered by her own inability to strike back.

“It’s not fair!” she yelled, her voice cracking as she slammed her fists onto the couch cushions. “He took everything from me! My life, my family, my dignity—and he gets to walk around like nothing happened?! Like I don’t exist?!”

Her phone buzzed again, this time more insistently. Annoyed, she snatched it up and glared at the screen. A message from Derek’s number, though she knew it wasn’t Derek himself—it was one of his lackeys. Derek was still behind bars, after all, thanks to Sylvester.

She opened the message, her eyes scanning the text quickly.

**“No update on Sylvester. He’s being careful. Too careful.”**

Stella let out a bitter laugh. “Too careful,” she repeated sarcastically. “Of course he is. He’s probably got a whole team of people protecting him, keeping him safe from the likes of me. Can’t even touch him through Derek anymore, not after what that bastard did to land himself in jail.”

She tossed the phone onto the couch, her mind racing with possibilities. **There had to be something**—some weakness, some angle she hadn’t thought of yet. But every idea seemed to crumble as soon as it took shape. Sylvester was too well-guarded, too insulated in his fortress of wealth and power.

Stella grabbed a glass from the counter, filling it with water before taking a long, slow sip. She stared at the liquid, watching the ripples as she thought aloud.

“He has to slip up eventually,” she muttered. “No one can keep up that kind of control forever. There’s got to be a crack somewhere. Something I can use.”

But what? She had tried everything—legal routes, personal attacks, financial sabotage. Nothing had worked. And now, she was left with nothing but her own rage, festering in the quiet of her apartment.

“I can’t keep living like this,” she hissed, slamming the glass down hard enough that water splashed onto the counter. “I can’t just sit here while he ruins everything.”

Her phone buzzed again, but she ignored it this time. She didn’t need another useless update. She needed action. She needed a plan.

Pacing once more, Stella ran a hand through her hair. “Think, Stella. Think. What’s his weak point? Everyone has one. There’s got to be something he cares about, something he’s protecting.”

Her thoughts turned to the child—**the boy**—the one thing Sylvester had that wasn’t just money or power. Melinda’s child. The one Derek had sired but that Sylvester now claimed as his own.

Stella froze, the realization settling over her like a storm cloud. The child.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing. “The kid is his weakness.”

But even as the thought formed, doubt crept in. How could she get to the boy? Sylvester guarded him like a hawk, kept him hidden from the world. Even Melinda couldn’t get to her own son, and she was the boy’s mother.

Still, the idea planted itself firmly in Stella’s mind, refusing to let go. **If she could just find a way to use the boy—if she could get close to him, threaten Sylvester where it really hurt—maybe, just maybe, she could finally have her revenge.**

She leaned against the counter, tapping her fingers rhythmically. “It’s risky,” she muttered. “Too risky, maybe. But what else do I have left?”

Her phone buzzed yet again, and this time she picked it up, eyes scanning the message without much interest. Another update, no doubt. But then something caught her attention.

**“There’s been a shift in Sylvester’s security. The daycare he uses—might be worth looking into.”**

Stella’s heart skipped a beat. **The daycare.** That’s where the boy was.

She grinned, a slow, sinister smile creeping across her face. “Well, well, well,” she murmured. “Looks like there’s a crack in Sylvester’s armor after all.”

She set the phone down and walked to the window, looking out at the city once again, but this time with renewed determination. The wheels in her mind were already turning, crafting a plan that could finally bring Sylvester to his knees.

“He won’t see it coming,” she whispered, her voice laced with dark satisfaction. “Not this time.”

For a moment, the rage that had consumed her for weeks subsided, replaced by a chilling calm. The pieces were falling into place, and soon, she would be ready to make her move.

“I’ll get my revenge,” Stella vowed, her fists tightening as she stared into the distance. “One way or another, I’ll make him pay.”

The room fell into silence, but Stella’s mind buzzed with anticipation. The game was far from over, and she was ready to play her next move.

This time, she wouldn’t fail.