She’s Done. He’s Breaking novel Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Scott had initially thought that Max must have run into an acquaintance, which is why he hesitated to intervene. But now, as he observed the scene unfolding before him, a sense of urgency propelled him forward. He approached Stella, who was still on the ground, and instinctively reached out to help her rise. However, Max’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“Scott, leave her. She deserved it.”

Despite Max’s words, Scott couldn’t just stand by. He gently assisted Stella to her feet, concern etched across his face. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

Stella was overwhelmed by a wave of pain that rendered her speechless. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Scott’s gaze; instead, she simply shook her head. With a heavy heart, she limped toward the thermal container that had been carelessly tossed aside, a symbol of her current turmoil.

Scott shot a sharp look at Max, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Did you not notice she’s pregnant? This is Tristan’s company. What do you think will happen if something goes wrong?”

Max merely watched Stella as she struggled away, a cruel laugh escaping him. “She’s fine. And honestly, if something were to happen, losing the kid might actually be for the best.”

Stella felt her body stiffen at his callous words. A sharp pain gripped her chest, leaving her breathless. The implication of Max’s statement struck her like a thunderbolt—if he could say such things, it meant that Tristan didn’t want this baby at all.

Scott’s frown deepened, his protective instincts flaring.

At that moment, a bright voice rang out, cutting through the tension. “Scott!”

Scott blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts. He turned to see Audrey rushing toward him, her beret perched stylishly atop her head. She wore a beautifully crafted wool sweater that hugged her figure, paired with a pleated skirt that swayed with her movements. Her long legs, clad in white boots, exuded a youthful confidence that made her stand out strikingly.

Behind her, Tristan trailed, a coat draped over his arm. His gaze was warm and indulgent as he looked at Audrey, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Why are you running? What if you fall?” Scott admonished, a hint of concern lacing his voice.

Audrey linked her arm through his, her grin infectious. “I’m not a child, Scott. I don’t trip that easily.”

Max stepped forward, a smirk on his face. “If Ms. York were to trip, I think Mr. Somerton would probably raze the entire building and start anew.”

Audrey blushed at the playful jab, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. “Max, what are you even saying?” she huffed, half-laughing, half-annoyed.

Tristan moved closer, his presence calming. “Come on, let’s grab some lunch first.”

Scott and Max had been waiting for Tristan and Audrey, their anticipation palpable.

As Audrey released Scott and slipped her hand into Tristan’s, he entwined their fingers, a silent promise of support. Together, the group made their way toward the entrance, only to notice Stella struggling to lift the thermal container from the floor.

Tristan maintained a neutral expression, yet his eyes betrayed a sharpness that could pierce through steel.

Audrey instinctively glanced at him, then quickly averted her gaze, sensing the tension.

They exited the building, the world outside bustling with activity. Cars moved slowly along the street, and a security guard held the door open for them, offering a courteous nod.

Tristan carefully guided Audrey into the car, ensuring she was comfortably settled before the vehicles pulled away, leaving behind the turmoil of the office.

Meanwhile, Stella, with the thermal container in hand, inched her way toward the elevator, her heart heavy with despair. She had completely lost her appetite, sitting frozen at her workstation, her mind a blank slate. For so long, she had kept her emotions tightly locked away, unwilling to shed tears or invite pity from anyone.

But now, a torrent of feelings threatened to break free, the urge to cry overwhelming her as she battled the tension she had kept bottled up for far too long.

After their meal, while Tristan and the others headed off to the golf course, Scott remained behind in the lounge, a sense of solitude enveloping him. He opened his pocket watch, revealing a cherished photograph of a ten-year-old girl wearing a knitted hat. She was laughing joyfully, a seashell clutched in her hand as she stood by the shore.

Tristan’s voice broke through the silence, pulling Scott from his reverie. “Checking your sister’s photo again?”

Scott quickly closed the pocket watch, slipping it back into his pocket. He lifted his teacup, taking a small sip, the warmth of the tea contrasting with the chill in his heart.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, though the weight of his words felt heavier than he intended.

Something about the pregnant woman Max had bullied stirred an inexplicable emotion within him, a mix of anger and sorrow.

Tristan studied him closely, understanding the depth of his feelings. They had met years ago while studying abroad and had since co-founded a private equity firm together. Tristan was well aware of Scott’s younger sister, Emma, and the fact that he carried her photo with him spoke volumes about how much he missed her.

Years ago, Emma had remarried, taking Scott along to live with the Yorks, one of Seaview’s most prestigious families. He had adopted her maiden name, and under Oliver York’s guidance, the chairman of MK Group, Scott had transformed into a successful CEO.

Tristan leaned in slightly, his tone probing yet gentle. “Now that we’re in Justicia, aren’t you going to see her?”

Scott shook his head, a bitter smile gracing his lips. “That would only reopen old wounds. She probably doesn’t even remember I’m her brother.”

When Emma had taken him away, he was just a child of nine. Over the years, he had likely faded into a distant memory for her. Even if they were to meet now, they would be mere strangers, their connection lost in the sands of time. What purpose would that serve?

“Aren’t you curious about what she looks like now?” Tristan pressed, his curiosity genuine.

“Stella!” Micah’s face turned an alarming shade of green with anger. He hadn’t anticipated her boldness.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Stella felt a mix of relief and apprehension. The moment she stepped out, she collided with Tristan, who had just returned to the office. His expression darkened the instant he laid eyes on her.

Stella noticed him too, the weight of their shared history hanging heavily in the air. Lowering her gaze, she bit her lip to suppress the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. She brushed past him without uttering a word, her heart pounding as she exited the building.

Outside, she hailed a cab to Sentella Bay, her mind set on packing up and returning home.

Back at the villa, she found Lily and Freya absent, so she didn’t bother looking for them. She headed straight to her room, opened her suitcase, and began the process of packing her belongings.

After nearly seven months of living there, she realized she couldn’t pack everything in one go. She focused on her essentials and a few changes of clothes, planning to return for the rest once her divorce from Tristan was finalized.

Just as she zipped up her suitcase, Lily appeared in the doorway, her expression darkening upon seeing the suitcase. “Where do you think you’re going? Mr. Somerton is coming home tonight. You should be in the kitchen preparing dinner!” she snapped.

Tristan was indeed coming to the villa, likely because Micah had reported her earlier confrontation with Sheila. This was her opportunity to confront the situation on her own terms.

Stella fixed Lily with a steely gaze. “Who’s the housekeeper here, you or me? Should I call Mrs. Somerton Senior right now and inform her that you think you’re in charge?”

“Y-you…” Lily stammered, her face paling as she realized the audacity of Stella’s words.

The timid, obedient Stella she once knew seemed to have vanished completely.

Lily’s anger flared. How dare Stella speak to her like that? Did she truly believe Tristan wouldn’t throw her out?

“You’re completely out of your mind,” Lily scoffed, storming off in a huff.

Stella slammed her bedroom door shut, the sound echoing through the house.

Flustered and enraged, Lily grabbed her phone and immediately called Yelena, eager to share her side of the story.

Meanwhile, Stella leaned against the door, tilting her head back as deep, shuddering breaths escaped her lips.

Her frustration and pent-up emotions finally overwhelmed her, and tears streamed down her face, a release she had long denied herself.

Later that night, when Tristan returned to the villa, Lily rushed to him, eager to be the first to tell her version of events.