The Second Life of Stella Rossi

peaker. "Uncle E, are you sure about the wedding? Stella... she seems so unhappy. And if you don

le manipulation, was sickenin

ad never heard directed at herself. "This is just business. And as for children, you know you' re the only on

nt" echoed Stella' s first lif

to prevent offspring with her. His in

vitam

wave of nausea

d, distant, offering platitudes about "trying again" while his eyes held no warmth, no sh

that to her.

clipsing even the grief for her mother' s sculpture. He h

h in her hand, the Cole family

ulsion, she strode to the open w

t, she flung the watch

of gold against the city lights, the

isfying act

rry-on, and walked out of the apartment, leaving the d

n' t lo

losest friends – a small, intimate affair – it had been too late to cancel without causing even more speculation

s vague, citing a "

uninvited, wi

d in the otherwise light atmosphere of her ap

e clipped. "We need to tal

Stella replied, keeping her voice even.

makeshift bar. Chloe hove

her hand. "A wedding gift. Since you seem

ic, but his eyes hel

cenely large diamond pendant. Impressive. Cold. Utterl

ift he would choose. Or rath

voice devoid of emotion. "But as ther

d to han

way. "Keep it. Consi

so transactional, so

elieve I already returned your... severance." She gestured vaguely towar

. "The watch?

e family heirloom, her symbolic

se, he

nding indifference to any gesture she

, sourced with incredible difficulty. A hand-knitted cashmere scarf in his university colors, a project that ha

he' d later find them tucked away in a drawer, or

ery childish drawing Chloe had ever made, every cheap trinket Chloe ha

tter pill she had swa

sipping a glass of punch, ga

I feel... so diz

the floor, but conveni

nstantly etched with alar

ella. "What was

accusation, he was scooping Chloe u

rrying Chloe as if she wer

y déjà vu washing over her. Chloe' s fe

Stella, as the hostess, felt a

sure they' re okay," she murmu

the elevator, and into the

g Chloe into the passenger

ak. "Thank you, Uncle E... you al

rude but feeling she should at least offer assis

windows slightly open for v

nds of

A soft gigg

mistakable sound. A

voice, no longer weak

... you' re

la f

urmur, too low to discern the words,

the garage? Now? Aft

it, the blatant disr