Jeremy burst into uncontrollable Laughter.
Little did Matthew anticipate that one day, a woman would be his downfall.
Stella bolted from the club, not daring to glance back.
The night had descended, casting only a faint glow from a scattering of streetlights.
Breathing heavily, Stella waited by the curb, flagging down a passing taxi.
After a short wait, she finally climbed into the cab.
It wasn’t until the car left the private club behind that she began to relax, sinking into the seat.
Stella swiftly retrieved her phone and dialed Matthew’s number, yet he remained unresponsive.
Overwhelmed by anxiety, Stella implored the driver to speed up.
She guessed that Jeremy would cause trouble to Matthew soon.
Given Jeremy’s performance, he likely possessed information about the incident at the art exhibition.
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If someone harbored ill intentions towards Matthew, could he be in jeopardy?
As Stella dwelled on the matter, her unease intensified, a coil twisting painfully around her stomach.
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Upon arriving at Prosper Bay, she sprang out of the car and made a beeline for Matthew’s house.
In her haste, she sprinted blindly and tumbled in a panicked frenzy.
Despite the pain, Stella gritted her teeth, regained her footing, and limped toward Matthew’s villa.
She repeatedly rang the doorbell and rapped on the door.
“Mr. Clark, are you home?”
There was no reply, but the living room remained illuminated with light.
Stella pressed the doorbell once more, bouncing on her feet.
At last, the door swung open.
Matthew, wearing only a towel cinched around his waist, displayed his strong torso and still-damp hair, suggesting he’d just finished a shower.
Stella felt a flush of embarrassment and uncertainty wash over her.
She cast her gaze downward, avoiding his eyes.