Left Them Loved Myself (Stella Spencer) novel Chapter 183

Stella’s gaze, which had been tinged with scrutiny and mockery, instantly turned razor–sharp the moment Sylvia finished speaking.

“If the Spencer family suffers even the slightest harm, Sylvia, I swear you won’t come out unscathed either,” Stella said coldly.

She even leaned in a little closer, locking eyes with Sylvia, a chilling, twisted smile curling at her lips. “Even if I have to go to hell, I’ll drag you down with me and make you my stepping stone.”

Sylvia’s pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

She recognized that look immediately; it was the kind of recklessness that only came when someone had absolutely nothing left to lose.

This opponent, cornered and desperate, bared her fangs and revealed a fierce determination to take Sylvia down with her–far sharper than Sylvia had anticipated.

Silence spread between the two of them, thick with the invisible gunpowder of a standoff.

It took a good ten seconds before Sylvia finally broke that suffocating silence.

“Ms. Spencer, there’s no need to be so hostile,” Sylvia said, her voice steady. “I’m not looking for some mutual destruction here. Honestly, I’m just hoping you could help me out with something so minor it barely matters.”

The wild look in Stella’s eyes melted away like a receding wave, leaving her composed and almost indifferent -like that woman who seemed ready to tear someone apart had vanished without a trace.

“Spare me the bullshit and just say what you really want,” she snapped.

Sylvia nodded, her tone as casual as if she were talking about the weather. “It’s simple. I want you to ask Erica to help me out–just get my cousin, Yvette Finch, a spot in that talent show training camp she’s in.

“Let her join the training and recordings, too.”

Honestly, it was such a minor request. Erica didn’t even need to lift a finger. She just had to give the word, and her people would handle it.

That was exactly what made it so weird–Sylvia was going to all this trouble, even threatening to ruin the Spencer family, just for something so trivial.

Stella narrowed her eyes, making no effort to hide the suspicion on her face.

“Far as I know, even if the Jansen and Finch families don’t have any connections in show business, the Lloyd Group has its hands in everything entertainment–related.

“For something this tiny, you just have to say the word to Ernest and it’s done,” Stella snorted.

She paused, giving Sylvia a searching look. “Or you could throw around the Jansen family’s resources for a

spot–easy as pie.

“So many shortcuts, and you purposely come all the way to me instead? Sylvia, what’s your real game here? What are you actually scheming?”

Sylvia met Stella’s scrutinizing gaze without flinching. Instead, she gave a wry smile, even looking a little impressed. “You’re as sharp as ever. Of course, I came to you with a purpose.”

Stella scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Wow, look at you, being all honest.”

“Let’s not be too dramatic,” Sylvia replied lightly, staying calm.

Then, what Sylvia said next made Stella’s heart give a jolt. “The whole reason I’m doing this is to prove I’m genuine with you–or maybe, to show you some goodwill.”

“Oh?” Stella cocked an eyebrow, waiting to hear what else Sylvia had up her sleeve.

Sylvia met her eyes, her expression strangely sincere. “Because what I really want is simple–let’s just get along from now on.

“We mind our own business, you don’t mess with me, and I don’t mess with you–no more pointless trouble between us. Sound fair to you?”

“Get along?” Stella echoed, as if she’d just heard the funniest joke in the world, her eyes suddenly turning steely.

“Is this what you call peace–getting Louisa and Victor to deliberately humiliate me in the garden? Sylvia, don’t you think your so–called ‘sincerity‘ is downright worthless?” she added.

Stella’s words were like a needle, piercing straight through the careful facade Sylvia had built up.

Sylvia’s smile froze for a brief moment, and a flash of frustration darted across her eyes; she’d acted too soon, and now trouble had boomeranged back on her way faster than she’d bargained for.

Sylvia fell silent for a beat, quickly collecting herself and going along with Stella’s line. “That’s actually why I think we need to clear the air and talk this out.

“Whatever happened with Louisa and my grandpa in the garden today–that wasn’t because of me or anything I set in motion.”

“Enough,” Stella cut her off, clearly fed up. She was done with all these phony tests and mind games, already sick of the whole charade.

She continued, “Sylvia, spare me your explanations. As for your request, I won’t promise anything on Erica’s behalf; you’ll have to ask her yourself. And about your so–called peaceful coexistence?”

She paused, her eyes cold and detached as she fixed Sylvia with a distant stare. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this one time.

“As long as your people behave themselves, stay out of my affairs, and don’t touch anyone close to me, I couldn’t care less what you decide to do.”

“Perfect,” Sylvia said, satisfaction flickering in her eyes as she kept her composure.

Having gotten exactly what she came for, she didn’t bother dragging things out.

She pushed back her chair and stood, her flawless, distant smile slipping back on like armor. “I trust your promise, Ms. Spencer. Well then, I’ll see myself out.”

Sylvia turned and walked from the hospital room, her stride calm and confident.

Stella’s gaze stayed locked on Sylvia’s retreating figure until the door closed softly behind her, cutting off the view. But her frown didn’t case at all–if anything, it only deepened, like a layer of ice that just wouldn’t melt.

‘She just pops in out of the blue, acting all mysterious, Stella thought, her mind running wild. “Throws Ernest out there like it’s some sort of golden ticket or threat.

‘And in the end, it’s just for something so stupidly minor she could’ve sorted out herself without even trying. And now she suddenly wants to talk about peaceful coexistence? Seriously?‘

‘Sylvia, what are you really playing at? What’s your actual endgame here?‘ Stella wondered, suspicion churning deep inside her.

Over in another VIP room at the end of the corridor, Wade was busy voicing the same kind of doubts Stella was struggling with just now.

As soon as Sylvia stepped in, Wade jumped up from the couch and strode to her, confusion and urgent concern etched across his face.

“Sylvia, are you seriously willing to just get along with Stella? She’s Ernest’s official wife. Keeping her close is dangerous; she’s always going to be a hidden threat,” Wade pressed anxiously.

“She won’t be his wife for much longer,” Sylvia said, her voice calm as she walked over to the window.

Wade was momentarily taken aback. “Wait, what did you say?”

Then realization dawned, and a sharp, merciless look flickered in his eyes. “Even if she’s soon to be his ex, they’ve spent seven years together–that kind of history doesn’t just disappear.

“There’s always a risk they could fall back into old habits. The only way to make sure she’s never a problem again is to get rid of her for good.”

He leaned in, dropping his voice to a dangerous whisper, the intent in his tone unmistakable. “If you can’t do it yourself, I can handle it for you. Guaranteed–no loose ends, no evidence.”

“Uncle?” Sylvia turned slowly to face him.

Her face was still pale from the injuries, and her voice was noticeably weak, but those eyes she fixed on Wade were disturbingly calm.

No anger, no scolding–just a chilling, high–and–mighty coldness that made any argument impossible.

But it felt like a sledgehammer slamming into Wade, leaving him breathless, the rest of his protest stuck in his

throat.

“Unless I give the order,” Sylvia said quietly, every syllable hitting Wade like a hammer, “don’t overstep. Don’t act on your own.”

She paused, her eyes sweeping over Wade, cold and razor–sharp. “Got it?”

Those last words seemed light as air, but to Wade, it was like a freezing current racing up his spine, leaving every nerve on edge.

Without thinking, he ducked his head to avoid that icy, soul–piercing gaze. Cold sweat gathered on his forehead, and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely steady, trembling at the edges.

“I understand,” he managed, almost inaudible, the words squeezed out with visible effort.