Chapter 154: Chapter 154 She was supposed to be his wife
A bitter scoff escaped her lips as she reapplied the lipstick, smudging the color back into place with a sharp swipe.
"That girl..." she muttered under her breath, voice low and hateful. "She thinks she’s won."
A burning flash of determination lit up in her dark eyes. The more Leonardo ignored her, the more her obsession tightened around him like a chain. How dare he look at someone else like that? How dare he smile, softly, at someone else? He was supposed to be hers.
And now? Now he was acting like that useless girl had a place beside him?
No.
She would never allow it.
Technically, in the original arrangement, she was supposed to be his wife.
And if fate gave Bella a chance to replace her once—then Stella would simply make sure to reverse that mistake.
Step by step.
She’d erase that girl from the picture.
Forever.
***
Stella had never felt this furious in her life. As she stepped back into the restaurant with a graceful smile plastered on her face, her eyes narrowed slightly at the scene before her—Leonardo and Bella had already started eating. They didn’t even wait for her. Her seat was empty, untouched, as if her presence didn’t matter.
Bella casually looked up, her fork still in her hand, lips brushing against the edge of her glass. "Oh! You’re back," she said sweetly, and then glanced at her plate as if remembering something. "I’m sorry! I was hungry..." she added, blinking innocently, though anyone with eyes could tell there was no apology in her voice.
Stella’s smile tightened.
"It’s okay, sister," she said, voice laced with forced politeness, her teeth gritting behind her glossed lips.
Sister.
The word tasted sour in her mouth.
She sat down slowly, crossing her legs like a queen reclaiming her throne, but no one was watching—Leonardo was still focused on Bella, helping her cut something on her plate, speaking to her in a low tone Stella couldn’t hear. Bella nodded, her soft brown eyes sparkling as she responded, and Stella felt her nails dig into the silky fabric of her dress under the table.
She took a slow breath, trying to keep her mask from slipping. She needed to remember the plan. Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears like a sharp warning: Be patient. Take what’s yours.
She glanced at Bella again, and that’s when the ache in her chest twisted.
Stella was only five months younger than Isabella. Her birthday was coming up next month—she’d be nineteen soon. Just like Bella.
Her fingers curled tighter around the spoon. She wasn’t even listening to whatever Leonardo was murmuring to Bella. She didn’t care. All she could hear was her mother’s voice ringing in her head like a cursed bell:
"She’s his daughter, Stella. The man who ruined me. Don’t ever forget what he did to me... and don’t ever forget what kind of blood runs in that girl’s veins."
Bella.
The spawn of that man.
The same man who left bruises on her mother’s body.
Her mother had warned her about Bella the night before, "She’s just like her father. Look at her eyes—those same lying eyes. Don’t be fooled by her inoccent face. It’s all an act. She’ll take what’s yours, just like he took everything from me."
Yes bella had taken everything.
Leonardo. The title. The marriage. The house.
She sat beside him as if she were always meant to be there. As if Stella was the intruder.
No, Stella thought, her heartbeat pounding like war drums.
I was supposed to be the bride. I was supposed to be Mrs. Moretti.
She stole it.
Her lips curved upward into a fake, serene smile as she gently dabbed her napkin on her lips. She needed to keep it together. She couldn’t scream here. Couldn’t flip the table over. Couldn’t throw the wine glass at that smug brat face and demand justice.
No. Not yet.
***
Leo’s prying questions about Stella hacker best friend left both Stella and Bella irritated. Without a word, Stella signaled the waiter and ordered red wine.
Stella lazily swirled her red wine, her eyes never once leaving Leonardo. She tilted her head slightly as she watched him lean back into the velvet chair—one hand resting on the armrest, the other lifting the glass to his lips. The way he sipped... slow, deliberate, without even glancing at her, somehow felt like the most infuriating rejection.
His strong jaw flexed slightly as he swallowed, and that black shirt of his clung to his frame like sin. His sleeves were still rolled up, revealing those powerful forearms with veins that made even Stella’s heart skip. His watch glinted under the light, elegant and masculine, just like him.
He wasn’t even trying.
God, even if he left the mafia and business world, he could walk down a runway and shut it down. Stella thought bitterly. That face, that walk... that aura. Mine... You were supposed to be mine.
But he wasn’t.
And as if the universe itself wanted to torture her, his phone buzzed.
Leonardo checked it and stood up from his chair. "I need to take this."
He walked away, his long strides silent but commanding. Every step made Stella grit her teeth. Even his back was sexy.
Bella, who had been quietly chewing her food and trying to look mean like Scarlett told her, peeked at Leo’s cup after he left.
It looked like velvet.
The wine inside shimmered like blood and rubies under the golden light. Her eyes sparkled. She leaned closer toward the untouched glass, tilting her head innocently.
It looked so beautiful... almost like a potion.
She bit her bottom lip.
Her innocent little voice of reason whispered softly in her mind—"Bella, don’t do it. You remember what happened last time, right?"
But then came another voice... sassier, bolder. Her mischievous inner devil.
"Oh, come on. One sip. Just one. It’s not poison. Look how pretty it looks in that fancy cup. You’re almost an adult. Be dramatic. Be elegant. Be cool."
Bella looked left. Then right.
Leo was still on the phone outside. Stella was busy looking like she was ready to strangle a napkin.
No one’s watching.
Just one sip.
"Don’t do it, Bella," her good angel whimpered.
"Shut up," her bad angel said, kicking the other one away with tiny cartoon heels.
Bella’s fingers reached out... slowly... gently...
Her hand wrapped around the stem of the glass.
And she lifted it.
Her eyes lit up like she had discovered forbidden treasure. She sniffed it curiously, wrinkling her little nose. It smells like grapes and perfume had a baby, she thought.
Just a tiny sip.
She tilted the glass.
One sip.
Then another.