Chapter 2

Compared to her triumphant glee, my response was ice-cold. "And?"

Stunned into silence for a moment, she finally snapped, "Let's make a bet, Stella. I bet this wedding of yours never happens."

As she spoke, she inched herself toward the very edge of the top stair.

"This is your grand plan?" I couldn't hide my disappointment. "Seriously?" Any shred of competitiveness I might have felt for this so-called rival vanished.

What a cliché, pathetic move.

I took a deliberate step back and said in the same bored tone, "You know there's a security camera, right?"

"It's been taken care of," she said. "By the end of today, Stella, your name will be mud."

The moment the words left her lips, she let herself fall backward.

Right down the staircase.

With a final scream, the video cut to black.

By the time it finished, Naomi's face was ghostly white.

The pity in the guests' eyes had vanished, replaced by dawning understanding and disgust.

The weight of their hushed judgments seemed to crush her.

Unable to bear seeing his dream girl suffer, Joshua scooped Naomi into his arms and bolted for the exit, shouting about getting to a hospital.

And just like that, the farce was over. Naomi had sacrificed an unborn child. She'd successfully stopped the wedding, but she'd also destroyed her own reputation in front of everyone who mattered.

In the days that followed, the Murrays sent numerous peace envoys to my family. My parents turned every single one away at the door.

So, it was a surprise when my phone rang and Joshua's name flashed on the screen.

He said, "Stella, you have everything. The world at your feet. Why did you have to corner Naomi like that?"

His voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Do you have any idea what that video did to her reputation? You're a woman too, how could you be so cruel?"

He took a shaky breath. "She lost the baby. Our first child. Because of you, it's gone."

I examined my newly done nails, utterly bored. "Did you call just to whine? Joshua, get over yourself.

"If you'd had the guts to refuse this marriage from the start, the wedding never would have happened. She wouldn't have lost the baby. None of this mess would exist.

"You're the greedy one. You wanted my family's influence, and you wanted to keep your lover. You created this disaster. So spare me the heartbroken hero act. You know exactly what you are."

On the other end, I could hear him breathing heavily, seething.

"Calling you heartless was an understatement. If you'd just reached out to pull her back that day, she never would have fallen. She wouldn't have miscarried. Don't you feel even a shred of guilt?" he said.

I actually laughed. "Joshua, calling you a pig would be an insult to pigs. She was trying to frame me, and you expected me to save her? Are you out of your mind?"

These two really thought the world existed to be their stepping stones.

But his next sentence managed to surprise even me.

"But you're fine, aren't you?" he shot back, voice dripping with accusation. "Why couldn't you just take the high road?"

I didn't bother with a reply. I just hung up.

I'd thought Joshua had some sense in him. But he was just another useless fool, led around by his heart.

Guess I need to find a new candidate for this alliance marriage.

I was lost in thought when a maid walked in, cradling a large bouquet of roses.

I glanced up, a silent question in my eyes.

"For you, Miss Bishop. From the florist," she said respectfully, placing the vivid red arrangement on the coffee table before me.

Ninety-nine roses. A blazing sea of crimson.

Puzzled, I plucked the prominent card from the center.

[To the most beautiful flower.]

No signature.

"Throw it out," I instructed flatly.

"But, it's such a sha..." the maid began, hesitant.

"You like it? Keep it then," I said with a dismissive wave.

Her face lit up with unmistakable delight as she carefully carried the bouquet away.

And so it began. Every single day after that, a fresh batch of ninety-nine perfect, blood-red roses arrived.

A month later, my phone rang. It was Anthony Quinn.

Anthony, head of the Quinn Group. Young, handsome, and very much single.

Sitting across from him in a quiet café, I took a sip of my coffee. "Well? What is it?"

"I want to pursue you," he stated bluntly.

"Reason?"

He thought for a moment, his expression turning serious. "You're not like other women. I need a partner like you."