From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 59

**Chapter 3**

A subtle twitch ran through my hand, barely perceptible to anyone else, but it felt monumental to me. I stifled a sniffle, desperately trying to suppress the burning sensation in my nose that threatened to spill over into tears.

Around me, the atmosphere was thick with silence, yet the weight of unspoken words hung heavily in the air. Each pair of eyes fixated on me, revealing more than their lips ever could.

The suggestion floated through the room like a whisper on the wind: they wanted to take Leah to the hospital and perhaps celebrate her birthday somewhere else, somewhere that didn’t feel so tainted by the day’s events.

Then, a voice cut through the tension, belonging to a guy who had been chasing after Leah for what felt like forever. He made sure to announce loudly, “The only reason I even bothered to come to this dump was for Leah.”

A wave of disgust washed over me. “She’s just jealous that Leah’s more popular than her. An old hag starting drama with a kid—disgusting.”

I noticed Stellan freeze momentarily, caught in a moment of indecision. But he didn’t turn back; he simply lifted Leah into his arms and exited the room, a silent guardian in the midst of chaos.

As soon as they were gone, I felt a surge of determination. I picked up my phone and dialed a realtor, ready to sever ties with this place.

The agent on the other end sounded perplexed. “This is a great location. The value’s only going up. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

I offered a small, tight-lipped smile and shook my head, resolute in my decision.

Once the agent had departed, I sank into the couch, the weight of the world pressing down on me. “Grandma, I’m leaving. I couldn’t keep the house. Please don’t be mad at me,” I whispered into the stillness, as if the walls might somehow carry my message to her.

Just then, my phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. A message from Stellan appeared on the screen.

“You left your necklace at my place. When are you picking it up?”

Curiosity piqued, I opened the accompanying photo. There it was, the necklace he had gifted me for our tenth anniversary.

A custom Chaumet piece, the ruby at its center glinted in the light, casting a beautiful crimson glow.

It was breathtaking, a testament to our shared history. But oddly, I felt nothing.

With a sigh, I typed back, “Just keep it for now. I’ll get it later.”

Setting my phone aside, I surrendered to a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I finally stirred, I found Stellan perched on the edge of my bed, his presence both familiar and unsettling.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough around the edges. “I came to check on you. Brought your necklace.”

I didn’t bother to sit up; instead, I reached out, took the necklace from his hand, and tossed it onto the nightstand with a casual flick.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to come all the way here at this hour,” I replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

He shook his head, his expression serious. “This necklace is different.”

“When I look at it, I think about everything we’ve been through together… We’ve made it through so much. And now we’re fighting over something so small. It’s not worth it.”

His words hung in the air, and I couldn’t help but reflect on our past.

I recalled the night I had a fever, the storm raging outside, and how he had braved the tempest to fetch me medicine, narrowly avoiding a car accident in the process.

Then there was the fortune teller who had ominously declared that I was cursed to endure a lonely, bitter existence. Stellan, undeterred, had driven us to a church in the mountains, climbing the stone steps on his knees, each bow accompanied by a prayer: “Please let Ella live a safe, happy life.”

And when I received the devastating diagnosis of uterine cancer, the news that I would never bear children, he had made the ultimate sacrifice—getting a vasectomy and telling his mother that he had made his choice.

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