Chapter 292: Chapter 292 Change Leo’s head snapped up just in time to see her disappearing down the hall. His fingers tightened around the phone, his glare darkening like a storm.
"Jay," he said coldly into the receiver, his voice a warning growl, "if you value your life, hang up."
But Jay only laughed on the other end, blissfully unaware. "Oho? What’s with that tone, brother? Don’t tell me you’re grumpy because Bella Bell is with me in spirit, not you~"
Leo closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, forcing himself not to smash the phone into the wall. His cheek still burned faintly from her kisses, his lips still tingled from the near miss, and his patience was hanging by a thread.
Jay... you really don’t know how close you are to dying tonight.
Leo pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience already worn to threads. "Jay," he growled into the phone, his voice low and venomous, "if you don’t shut up right now, I swear I’ll come to your place tonight and break every bone in your body."
Jay gasped theatrically, his tone dripping with fake hurt. "Wow! So violent. Is this because you were alone with my Bella Bell and she didn’t give you attention?"
Leo’s jaw locked. His hand twitched, already imagining wrapping it around Jay’s throat. "She’s not yours," he snapped. "Not even in your dreams. If you call her that again, I’ll cut your tongue out."
Jay only laughed, the sound maddeningly cheerful. "Ohhh, I hit the mark, didn’t I? You’re jealous! Big scary bro is jealous of me. Adorable~"
Leo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you want me to remind you of the last time you touched my things without permission? You couldn’t walk straight for a week."
Jay shivered at the memory but recovered quickly, grinning into the phone. "Bella Bell isn’t a thing, brother. She’s an angel. And unlike you, I’d treat her gently."
. Leo’s temper snapped. "You little s*it—listen to me carefully. If you even look at her the wrong way, I’ll bury you six feet under, and no one will even find your ashes. Do you understand?"
Jay whistled. "Scary. But what’s this, hmm? You sound desperate, bro. Did something happen just now? Did Bella Bell... maybe kiss you?" His voice was singsong, taunting.
Leo froze, his hand clenching so tightly around the phone that the plastic creaked. "Jay," he said in a dangerously calm tone, "if you don’t hang up right now, I’ll make sure you’ll need a new set of fingers to ever dial her number again."
For a moment, there was silence on the line. Then Jay burst out laughing. "Got it, got it, I’ll stop teasing... for today. But ahh, brother, your voice is too fun when it’s about her. So easy to rile up."
The line clicked dead.
Leo lowered the phone slowly, his face dark as thunder. He could still hear Jay’s annoying laughter echoing in his ears. His pulse was still racing, his body burning from the interrupted kiss, his frustration boiling over.
"Jay..." he muttered, his eyes flashing dangerously as he dropped the phone on the desk. "One of these days, I’ll really kill you."
But even in his fury, his fingers brushed unconsciously at his cheek again, where Bella’s lips had grazed him moments before. His chest tightened, the heat returning, undoing all his murderous resolve.
Stella sat on the edge of her bed with a pile of clothes scattered around her. Each dress she folded felt heavier than the last, as if it carried the shame and fear of everything that had gone wrong: the whispering creditors, her parents’ hollow faces, the cold conversations about a marriage that looked more like a deal than a life. She had packed and unpacked so many times, pausing over photographs of herself laughing with friends, a girl who now seemed to belong to another world. The future waiting for her, a marriage to an old man who could buy away the family debt, made her jaw ache with anger. She could not imagine a life of polite smiles while he kept other women behind closed doors. It felt like trading her soul for a safety net sewn with gold thread but rotting underneath. She had never wanted mercy; she wanted choice. In the quiet panic of the last humiliating weeks she had realized with shocking clarity that the only person she had ever truly wanted beside her was Tom. His hands held no money, but they were steady and warm. His laugh was not polished or fake for show, but it reached a part of her that had been silenced by years of pretending. So she packed not only clothes but also the small stubborn hope that a life built with love, however modest, would be better than a gilded emptiness. Tears slid down her cheeks as she folded the last scarf; they tasted like salt and resolve. A soft knock at the window startled her. She wiped her face with the heel of her hand and peered through the glass. There he was, Tom, a little rumpled, hair mussed from the climb, eyes wide and hopeful like a boy who still believed he could change the universe just by showing up. "Princess?" he whispered, grinning despite her sorrow, and she laughed despite everything, because the name landed on her like a warm hand. She unlatched the window and let him slip inside as if she were letting in sunlight. Seeing him there, not polished, not pretending, just real, the dam inside her broke. She ran to him and let herself be held. "Tom, I am so sorry," she sobbed into his shirt, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I do not want to live like this. They want to marry me off to an old man to settle the debts. I cannot do it. I would rather be with you, work with you, scrub floors and boil tea and build something small and honest than be bought into a life where I can never breathe." Her voice shook with fear and relief, but also with the fierce joy of finally saying the truth aloud.
Stella sat on the edge of her bed with a pile of clothes scattered around her. Each dress she folded felt heavier than the last, as if it carried the shame and fear of everything that had gone wrong: the whispering creditors, her parents’ hollow faces, the cold conversations about a marriage that looked more like a deal than a life. She had packed and unpacked so many times, pausing over photographs of herself laughing with friends, a girl who now seemed to belong to another world. The future waiting for her, a marriage to an old man who could buy away the family debt, made her jaw ache with anger. She could not imagine a life of polite smiles while he kept other women behind closed doors. It felt like trading her soul for a safety net sewn with gold thread but rotting underneath. She had never wanted mercy; she wanted choice. In the quiet panic of the last humiliating weeks she had realized with shocking clarity that the only person she had ever truly wanted beside her was Tom. His hands held no money, but they were steady and warm. His laugh was not polished or fake for show, but it reached a part of her that had been silenced by years of pretending. So she packed not only clothes but also the small stubborn hope that a life built with love, however modest, would be better than a gilded emptiness. Tears slid down her cheeks as she folded the last scarf; they tasted like salt and resolve. A soft knock at the window startled her. She wiped her face with the heel of her hand and peered through the glass. There he was, Tom, a little rumpled, hair mussed from the climb, eyes wide and hopeful like a boy who still believed he could change the universe just by showing up. "Princess?" he whispered, grinning despite her sorrow, and she laughed despite everything, because the name landed on her like a warm hand. She unlatched the window and let him slip inside as if she were letting in sunlight. Seeing him there, not polished, not pretending, just real, the dam inside her broke. She ran to him and let herself be held. "Tom, I am so sorry," she sobbed into his shirt, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I do not want to live like this. They want to marry me off to an old man to settle the debts. I cannot do it. I would rather be with you, work with you, scrub floors and boil tea and build something small and honest than be bought into a life where I can never breathe." Her voice shook with fear and relief, but also with the fierce joy of finally saying the truth aloud.