Trapped in a Secret Marriage with a Dangerous Billionaire - Chapter 170

Chapter 170: Another Secret Alliance

As Stella made her way to the car, Stephanie returned home from work, her usual composed expression replaced by one of curiosity upon seeing Stella at the door.

“Congratulations on being discharged from the hospital,” Stephanie offered with a faint smile.

Stella scoffed. “I’m sure you wished I wouldn’t recover. Stop dreaming, Stephanie. I won’t die so easily. Vintage Cellar belongs to my daughter, and I won’t rest until I pass it on to her.”

Stephanie chuckled softly, folding her arms below her chest. “Then I suggest you take better care of your heart, Stella. If you thought the Vogue article was shocking, imagine what’s to come.”

Stella rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her irritation as the car pulled away.

—

The Scott Family’s Main Residence.

At the Scott family’s residence, the butler welcomed Stella warmly and led her to the living room. She settled into a plush armchair, her eyes scanning the space. Noticing Patricia and Richard’s absence, she asked, “Where are they? Why didn’t they come to greet me?”

The butler’s response was measured. “They are currently occupied, ma’am. I will inform Ms. Olivia of your arrival.”

Stella frowned but said nothing as the butler left. A few minutes later, Olivia descended the staircase, her expression indifferent as she entered the living room.

“Hello, Mother,” Olivia said casually, sinking into the couch opposite Stella without so much as a hint of concern.

Stella’s frown deepened. “That’s it? No apology, no explanation for why you didn’t visit me in the hospital?”

Olivia sighed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Mother, I’ve been dealing with a lot. My life is in shambles, and I’m trying to sort things out. Do you have any idea how stressful it is at work? My Spraying Champagne is on the chopping block, and I’ve been given a month to save it or watch it be discontinued.”

Stella’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s your excuse for ignoring your mother? I nearly died, Olivia. A heart attack isn’t a common cold.”

“You’re strong,” Olivia said dismissively. “A heart attack has nothing on you.”

Stella inhaled sharply, her disappointment evident. “So, you made me come all the way here just to hear this nonsense?”

Olivia offered no apology, merely shrugging as she leaned back in her seat. Stella decided to shift her focus.

“I need answers, Olivia,” Stella said, her tone steely. “How did you not realize that Mrs. Scott is your stepsister, Aurora? You visited her, for heaven’s sake!”

Olivia spread her arms, her tone defensive. “It’s not my fault! She wore some kind of mask. How was I supposed to know?”

“And you didn’t notice her mannerisms? Her voice? Anything?” Stella pressed.

“Did you also notice those stuff at the masquerade ball?” Olivia shot back, her voice rising. “Because I didn’t see you figuring it out either.”

Stella fell silent, feigning ignorance, but her frustration was palpable. She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a dangerous tone. “Tell me the truth, Olivia. Did you reveal any of our secrets to her while trying to curry favour?”

For a fleeting moment, panic flickered across Olivia’s face before she masked it with defiance. “Do you think I’m that stupid?”

Stella’s scrutinizing gaze lingered for several seconds before she relaxed against the couch. “Fine. But answer me this: do you still intend to stay married to Owen despite everything? Or will you finally work with me on our plans?”

Olivia scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Let it go, Mother. Nothing will make me change my mind right now.”

Their gazes locked in a silent standoff, each woman refusing to yield. Stella eventually relented with a sigh, shifting back in her seat.

“Visit home when you have time,” Stella said, her tone softer now. “We can review your plans together.”

Olivia offered a noncommittal nod, the tension between them still simmering as the conversation shifted.

—

Somewhere in the outskirts of the City…

The dimly lit room at the back of Goodnight club was shrouded in an air of secrecy, its heavy curtains shielding it from prying eyes. A faint haze of cigar smoke lingered in the air, adding to the mysterious ambiance.

Casey sat back in a plush chair, her face partially obscured by oversized dark shades that glinted faintly under the low light. Her movements were deliberate as she swirled the whiskey in her glass, the amber liquid catching the faint glow of the room’s single lamp.

The door creaked open, and Juliet stepped in hurriedly, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it momentarily, exhaling deeply.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of apology and tension.

Casey didn’t immediately respond. She took a slow sip of her whiskey, her demeanour calm and unbothered.

Juliet crossed the room and dropped onto the chair next to Casey, her eyes landing on the glass in Casey’s hand. Without hesitation, she reached over, grabbed it, and downed the contents in one gulp. She slammed the empty glass onto the table and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

“Needed that,” Juliet muttered. “I’m parched.”

Casey raised a brow behind her shades but said nothing, pouring herself another glass. Juliet fidgeted in her seat, the agitation bubbling just beneath her composed exterior.

“Owen hasn’t taken my calls for two days,” Juliet began, her tone betraying the storm of emotions swirling within her. “Not a text, not a word. Do you think he’s—”

“There’s nothing to panic about,” Casey interrupted, her voice cool, almost dismissive. She leaned back, crossing her legs gracefully as she swirled the whiskey in her glass. “This isn’t unusual. Men like him thrive on control. But trust me, we will work it out. And besides, his home is on fire. He shouldn’t be indulging in alcohol and on women for a while.”

Juliet wasn’t convinced. “What if he’s moved on? What if he dumps me and starts seeing someone else?”

Casey remained unfazed, taking a measured sip of her drink. Juliet’s restless energy grated against her calm exterior, but Casey’s patience didn’t waver.

She reached for her purse, her movements deliberate, and pulled out a small rectangular box. Without a word, she handed it to Juliet, who stared at it in confusion before realizing what it was—a pregnancy test kit.