Chapter 9

The grand estate was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun, its polished marble floors gleaming as Sylvester sat in his lavish study. The room exuded the scent of old leather and the subtle warmth of burning wood from the fireplace. His fingers absentmindedly traced the ridges of his oak desk, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Stella really had the nerve to vandalize my property?” he murmured to himself, disbelief evident in his voice.

Albert stood at the edge of the room, his usual composed demeanor unshaken, though his eyes held a flicker of concern.

“Sir, I have reason to believe it was her,” Albert said quietly, the gravity of his words lingering in the air. “The security footage wasn’t clear, but there were enough glimpses… enough to suggest that it was Miss Stella.”

Sylvester closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart felt heavy. It had been over a year since he had ended things with Stella. Their relationship had once been full of passion, but it had turned sour, consumed by her jealousy and obsessive nature. He had thought she’d moved on, as he had tried to do, but now this accusation hung over him like a dark cloud.

"Are you absolutely certain, Albert?" Sylvester asked, his tone low but sharp. "You know how it sounds, accusing her of something like this."

"I wouldn't come to you with this if I wasn't sure, sir," Albert replied. "It’s hard to believe, I know. But people change. The Stella you knew... might not be the one you’re dealing with now."

Sylvester ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, trying to suppress the anger bubbling up inside him. Stella could be volatile, yes, but he never imagined her capable of such destruction. Still, the seed of doubt was planted. He needed answers, and he needed them now.

In a moment of impulse, he reached for his phone and typed a message.

**We need to talk. Meet me at the Royale Hotel tonight. 8 PM.**

He stared at the message for a beat before sending it. Would she agree to meet him? Would she even admit to doing something so heinous? The uncertainty gnawed at him.

His phone buzzed a moment later.

**Okay. I'll be there. 8 PM. Suite 304.**

---

Later that evening, Sylvester stood in the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored jacket. His reflection stared back at him, stern and resolute. He wasn’t going to let this become an emotional encounter. He needed to stay calm, focused. But deep inside, a storm was brewing. He still couldn’t reconcile the Stella he had loved with the one Albert described.

Arriving at the Royale Hotel, a sense of foreboding hung over him as he made his way to Suite 304. The dimly lit hallway only added to the tension, each step bringing him closer to the confrontation.

He knocked twice on the door.

It opened slowly, revealing Stella. She looked the same—her long black hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes a mix of surprise and something else he couldn’t quite place. She was dressed elegantly, too elegantly for a simple meeting, her red silk dress clinging to her like it had been designed for seduction.

“Sly,” she said softly, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “Come in.”

Sylvester stepped inside, the air thick with unspoken words. He stayed near the door, unwilling to go further into the suite.

“We need to talk,” Sylvester began, his voice flat. “About what happened. The break-in at my house.”

Stella’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play games with me, Stella. I know it was you.”

Her expression hardened, her playful demeanor evaporating. “Is that what this is about? You think I did it?” Her voice rose, indignant. “I haven’t been anywhere near your estate! Why would I do something like that?”

“Why?” Sylvester repeated, his anger rising. “Because you couldn’t let go, Stella. You’ve always hated when things didn’t go your way.”

Stella stepped closer, her voice softer, pleading now. “Sly, I swear I didn’t do it. I would never hurt you like that. Yes, I was angry when we broke up, but I would never… Please, you have to believe me.”

Sylvester’s jaw tightened. “It’s hard to believe you when the evidence is pointing straight at you. If you had nothing to do with it, then explain why someone would go to the trouble of framing you.”

Stella’s eyes glistened, tears welling up at the corners. She reached out, placing a hand on his chest, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re hurt… angry. I understand. But I’ve changed, Sly. I miss you. We were so good together once. Don’t let this come between us.”

He shook his head, taking a step back, her touch sending a shiver down his spine. He had seen this before—the way she manipulated situations, twisted emotions to her advantage.

“I’m not here to rekindle anything,” Sylvester said firmly. “I just want the truth.”

Suddenly, Stella’s demeanor shifted. Her eyes darkened, and she moved to the door, locking it with a click.

“Sly, don’t be so cold,” she said, her voice now sultry as she moved closer, her body pressing against his. “We can fix this. We can be together again. You know you want me.”

His pulse quickened, but not from desire—from anger. She was trying to seduce him, to manipulate him like she had so many times before. He clenched his fists, stepping back and holding his ground.

“Stop it, Stella,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t going to work. I’m not the same man you can control anymore.”

But Stella didn’t stop. She leaned closer, her lips grazing his ear, her hands trailing down his chest. In a split second, Sylvester snapped.

“Enough!” he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders and shoving her away. She stumbled backward, falling to the floor in a heap, her eyes wide with shock.

He stood over her, his chest heaving with the weight of his frustration. “I don’t know if you did it, but if I find proof that you broke into my house, I will make sure you pay for every bit of damage you’ve caused.”

Stella’s expression twisted into a mixture of fear and fury as she slowly picked herself up from the floor, her once alluring demeanor shattered. But before she could speak, Sylvester turned and unlocked the door.

“I’m done with you, Stella. Stay out of my life, or you’ll regret it.”

Without another word, Sylvester walked out of the room, leaving her standing alone, the echoes of his warning still hanging in the air.

As the hotel hallway enveloped him in its silence, Sylvester knew this wasn’t over—not yet. If she was truly responsible, he would find out. And when he did, there would be no forgiveness.