"Why did Uncle have to say it was Stella?"

Sherman opened his mouth, ready to protest, but one icy look from Sellers silenced him.

His expression flickered—anger, confusion, resignation—before he finally swallowed his words.

Karl, lost in his own storm, didn't notice any of it. His eyes were bloodshot, burning with hatred. He clenched his fists so tight his knuckles whitened, jaw set in a grim line.

“Stella, I swear—I'd rather die than let you win!"

Sellers' voice was calm, detached. “Karl, you need to rest. Tomorrow, I'll have someone send you away for a little vacation."

But Karl didn't seem to hear him. He just kept staring into space, consumed by a bitterness that chilled the room.

Sellers turned and strode out. Sherman hurried after him.

“Uncle,” he said urgently, "this wasn't Stella's doing at all. Why—"

him off coldly. "The head of the Gardner family? Untouchable. Even if we could take revenge,

someone to blame.

struggled to accept

Why you'll never be Karl's equal? It's because you're too sentimental. You still cling to these foolish notions of mercy.

paused, eyes narrowing. "Or do you think there's still

already burned every bridge

even if

really have to

did? This wasn't petty rivalry this was a grudge that

Using their own

his tone even. "Besides, Aurora Williams can't stand Stella: Let them tear each other apart. If Stella's busy fighting Karl, she won't have time to go after Aurora. Two birds, one stone. Isn't

of Aurora, Sherman's determination faltered. He let out a quiet

"I understand."

the violin

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