Chapter 98

Stella's POV

"Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" I asked Adam as we settled into his study. "Forcing him to study like this...what if he just gives up entirely?"

Adam didn't look up from his laptop. "If he doesn't get into college, he'll repeat the year. Professional gamers' careers are short-he can't afford to waste time."

"That's brutal!" I exclaimed, genuinely shocked by his cold approach.

"The alternative is worse," Adam replied simply.

I paced the room, unable to sit still. "But is this even realistic?He only has half a year, and his SAT score is only 1050... that s pretty far from Ivy League standards."

"He didn't study before, now he pays the price. That's life."Adam's tone was final, brooking no argument.

How can he be so unsympathetic? They're family!

I decided to change the subject. "By the way, I'm having dinner with Frank the day after tomorrow. I won't be home for dinner that night."

Adam finally looked up, his expression shifting subtly. He beckoned me over with a slight gesture of his hand.

What now? I thought, but found myself moving toward him anyway.

When I reached his chair, he unexpectedly pulled me onto his lap, his arm settling around my waist with casual possessiveness.

"Since when does the boss treat an employee to dinner?" he asked, his voice deceptively light.

I rolled my eyes. "Frank was just joking about me being his boss."

"So he's a suitor then?" Adam's fingers tightened slightly on my waist.

I bit my lip, struggling with how to explain my relationship with Frank. The truth was complicated-I'd been the primary investor in his studio years ago,

providing the capital he needed when no one else would take a chance on him.

"Actually," I admitted reluctantly, "Iam sort of his boss. I'm the majority shareholder in his studio."

Adam's eyebrow rose fractionally.11Goon.n

"I'm not really involved in day-to-day operations," I hastened to explain. "I just collect dividends. I've been gradually distributing shares over the years. Now I only hold about 45%.while Frank has 40%."

A hint of amusement flickered in Adam's eyes. "Owner of Rouge, majority shareholder in an international design studio...what other assets are you hiding from me, Miss Winston?"

I felt my cheeks warm. "That's it. It's nothing compared to what you have, Mr. Lancaster."

Adam reached up to pinch my cheek gently. "Flattery won't work on me."

"What do you want then?" I asked, genuinely confused by his reaction.

"Just curious," he said, his voice softening slightly. "I won't touch your little piggy bank."

Little piggy bank? My net worth is in the millions!

Two days later, I found myself at Frank's studio,ostensibly for a routine visit to "check on operations." The real reason, of course, was our dinner plans, but a CEO dropping by to inspect her investment was a much better cover story than two friends catching up.

"So," Frank said, leaning against his desk as I examined some fabric samples, "how's married life treating you? Is the mysterious Mr. Lancaster as terrifying at home as he is in public?"

I gave him a stern look. "It's basic professional ethics not to gossip about your boss's personal life, Frank."

Frank laughed,clearly not intimidated. "Fine, fine. But Stella, I really did hear those rumors about Grace and your husband.Don't take it to heart-most men aren't worth the trouble!"

"Frank, you're a man too," I reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

"Exactly why I've never married!" he replied with a theatrical flourish. "Speaking of which, is your husband upset about our dinner plans tonight?"

On the surface, I maintained a puizzled expression. "Why would he be upset?"

But inside, I couldn't help remembering Adam's stiff posture and the subtle tightening around his eyes when I mentioned tonight's plans.

"The way he looked at me that day," Frank continued, "was like I was some invader he wanted to deport from America! I'm glad he won't be joining us for dinner-I'd certainly suffer from indigestion!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Are you being dramatic again?" This isn't dramatics." Frank insisted, his expression suddenly serious. "Tve never seen a man more jealous in my life!"

Jealous? Adam? That's... actually an interesting thought.

Before I could dwell on this new perspective. Frank's assistant knocked and entered the room.

"Sir, there's a woman outside claiming to be Miss Winston's mother,and she's asking to see you."

I felt my expression harden involuntarily,all warmth draining from my face.

Frank noticed immediately. "Stella, what's wrong? Is she an imposter?"

"No," I said quietly. " I don't know if you've heard the rumors.but while my last name is Winston, I'm not actually a Winston by blood. She is my adoptive mother."

Frank's face darkened with anger. "So she's the bloodsucker who raised you? You stay right here-I'll handle this."

From my position near the doorway of Frank's private office,I could see into the reception area where Anna and Lucy sat on a plush sofa, flipping through portfolios and discussing designs as if they owned the place.

Frank approached them with perfect professional courtesy,though I could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Madam, I understand you've been asking for me?"

Anna looked up. her face instantly transforming into a mask of maternal warmth. "Mr. Frank, hello! I'm Stella's mother, Anna.And this is my daughter, Lucy Winston! She's a very talented actress!"

Lucy barely managed a stiff"Hello, Mr. Frank."

I watched as Frank's eyes flicked between them,no doubt comparing Lucy's beauty to mine. I didn't need to hear his thoughts to know what he was thinking-Frank had always been brutally honest about his aesthetic judgments.

"What brings you here today, madam?" Frank asked, his tone perfectly professional.

Anna didn't hesitate. "We'd like to order several of your newest gowns, and my daughter Lucy has a red carpet event coming up. Would it be possible to provide something ready-made? We heard Stella is your benefactor, which is why we're bothering you with this request."

I noticed several clients in the waiting area exchanging glances at Anna's audacious demands, Frank's collections were notoriously exclusive, with waiting lists extending months for custom pieces, "Stella is indeed my benefactor," Frank confirmed, his voice carrying throughout the space. "She enjoys every privilege here."

Anna and Lucy exchanged smug smiles. basking in the envious glances from the other clients.

Frank's smile turned sharp. "However, she is her, and you are you. You stand on equal footing with all my other clients."

My heart swelled with appreciation for Frank's loyalty.

"In fact," his assistant chimed in with barely concealed satisfaction, "Ms. Lucy's team already contacted us about borrowing a dress for the red carpet. We declined."

Anna's face flushed an ugly red. "Mr. Frank, I am Stella 's mother!"

"Were," Frank corrected coldly, signaling for his assistant to take back the portfolio. "Mrs. Winston, from what I understand.since your biological daughter returned, you've made Stella's life quite difficult. Even before that, you weren't particularly kind to her."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping but still audible to those nearby. "The person who helped me was Stella, not the Winston family, and certainly not your daughter here. There is a term for people like you-'parasites,' isn't that right? It describes you perfectly." The other clients in the studio didn't bother hiding their amusement at Anna's public dressing down, several nodding in agreement with Frank's assessment.

"It's true," one elegant woman remarked loudly. "I've heard how they treated Stella. Absolutely shameful!"

Frank turned to the woman with a brilliant smile. "Madame,your appreciation for justice moves me. Please, allow my team to prioritize your order as thanks for your support."

Frank personally "escorted" Anna and Lucy to the door,his professional smile never wavering despite the daggers they were glaring at him-and by extension, at me.

As they reached the entrance, Anna suddenly froze, her expression transforming from humiliation to desperate hope.Following her gaze, I saw Adam sitting in his wheelchair just outside the studio door, Taylor standing attentively behind him.

What is he doing here? I wondered, feeling a mixture of surprise and-though I'd never admit it-pleasure.