Chapter 7 He Is Her Man!

She suddenly sat up on the sofa, and Allen's suit jacket that had been draped over her slid to the floor.

The two men at the door both turned their eyes toward her at the commotion.

Miles's pupils contracted.

Stella, before him, had just showered, her hair half-dry and casually draped over her shoulders.

She wore a loose white shirt—clearly a man's own—which hung loosely on her frame, making her look even more slender, her collarbones delicate.

That shirt... was Allen's!

She was actually wearing another man's clothes!

He was supposed to be the man in her life!

He believed Stella, wholly and completely, belonged only to him!

“Stella! How could you be so shameless? You left me and rushed into another man’s arms?"

His words poured over her like the filthiest sewage.

But Stella didn't even bat an eye.

Barefoot, she stepped onto the soft carpet and walked out from the shadows of the living room, one step at a time.

"Get out."

The response was ice-cold.

Miles was completely enraged by her attitude.

"Who are you telling to get out? Stella, have you forgotten what you are? You're a woman I threw away! What right do you have to yell at me here?!"

He wanted to rush in, grab her, and tear that offensive shirt off her body.

But Allen stood at the door like an iron tower, completely unmoved, and the hand gripping his wrist tightened even more.

Miles even heard the soft crack of his own wrist bones shifting.

He gasped at the sudden pain, and a fragment of reason came back to him.

At this point, he couldn’t match Allen in a head-on confrontation.

Miles jerked his hand free from Allen's grip, stepped back, and locked his eyes on Stella again.

Since the hard approach wouldn't work, he'd try the soft one.

He knew where Stella's weak spot was.

"Stella, I don’t have time for this.” His tone turned on a dime, condescending and faintly patronizing, as though he were indulging her. "Grandpa is aware you're back. He asked me to bring you home."

At the mention of "Grandpa," Stella's heart trembled uncontrollably.

Connor was the only person in the entire Hudson family who truly cared about her.

Three years ago, if Connor hadn't been conveniently sent abroad by Miles under some pretext for treatment, he would never have stood by and watched her be sent to a psychiatric hospital.

Seeing her expression soften, Miles knew he'd hit the right nerve. He continued speaking in a soft voice that carried hidden threats:

"Grandpa's getting old, he can't handle shocks. If he learns you chose another man’s home over coming back… I think you understand the consequences."

"And... don't you want to see your son?"

Jared!

She pictured Jared—eyes full of fear, his thin body confined to a dark, damp attic.

Her heart felt like it was being pierced back and forth by countless steel needles, the pain almost suffocating.

Miles was satisfied with her reaction. He knew he'd won.

He took a step forward, moved past Allen, and stood in front of Stella.

Leaning in, he whispered so only she could hear, his tone like a devil’s temptation:

"Come back with me. As long as you behave, I can let you see him, even... perhaps even release him from the attic."

“If you refuse to behave, you’re familiar with Ella’s ways. As for that child… I can’t promise how she’ll handle him."

Stella's body began to shake violently.

She knew.

Of course, she knew how vicious Ella was.

Ella had forged psychiatric reports and personally sent her to hell—why would she spare a defenseless child?

She couldn’t take that chance—not with Jared’s life on the line.

Hell on one side, an abyss on the other.

She had no choice.

Stella slowly lifted her head.

"Fine."

She heard her own dry voice echo in the empty living room. "I'll go back with you."

He reached out to grab her arm, but was mercilessly blocked by a large hand from the side.

Allen had somehow already moved to Stella's side.

"She needs to change clothes." Allen's tone was calm but firm.

Miles's face darkened instantly, but he finally held back.

Anyway, she was already in his grasp—he wasn't in a hurry.

"You have five minutes," he said coldly.

In the living room, only Stella and Allen remained.

"You're really going back? It's a trap." Allen's brow furrowed.

"I have to go back. My child is in his hands."

Allen fell silent.

He knew this was her fatal weakness, one no one could resolve.

He stopped trying to persuade her. Instead, he turned and took two items from a hidden compartment by the entrance, pressing them into her palm.

"What are these?"

Stella opened her hand. In her palm lay an ultra-thin phone the size of a matchbox and something that looked like an ordinary silver pendant.

"A special phone with only my number, completely secure. The pendant is an emergency alarm."

Allen picked up the pendant and fastened it around her neck. The cold touch made her flinch.

He tucked the pendant inside her shirt, his movements gentle.

"Remember, no matter what happens, press and hold it for three seconds. Within three minutes, my people will be there in front of you."

Something softly struck Stella's heart.

For three years, she'd been like a lone wolf, licking her wounds alone in the darkness, never imagining someone would extend such a hand to her.

She gripped the tiny phone tightly, her nails digging deep into her flesh.

"Thank you." She raised her gaze to him, her expression serious.

Allen stared at her intently but said nothing more.

Five minutes later, Stella emerged from the apartment wearing a brand-new black casual outfit from the walk-in closet.

Miles stood in the hallway, leaning on the wall as he smoked with impatience. Seeing her come out, he immediately crushed the cigarette and stepped forward to grab her.

But his hand missed again.

Allen had already moved to Stella's side, walking alongside her.

"Mr. Palmer, what's the meaning of this?" Miles's patience was completely exhausted. "She already agreed to come with me. Are you still trying to hang on to her?"

Allen didn't even spare him a glance, just watched the descending red numbers on the elevator and said flatly, "I'm seeing her off."

His tone wasn't asking—it was informing.

Miles was so angry that the veins at his temples bulged.

Seeing her off?

What right did Allen have to see off his woman?!

The elevator doors opened.

He clenched his fists tightly and finally, gritting his teeth, followed them in.