Behind Her Back

The pulsing bass of the club rattled the crystal glasses on the sticky VIP table, vibrating through the soles of their expensive shoes. Declan’s friend leaned in close, yelling over the heavy, thumping track.

"If she had such talent, she would have seduced Declan with it. Don't insult those dancers by comparing them to her."

Declan narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the glass table. He stared through the chaotic, shifting laser lights at the faintly familiar, illuminated figure spinning on the stage below. The mesmerizing dancer bathed in neon pinks and blues did bear a striking resemblance to his wife. Her golden blonde hair caught the strobe flashes, and her gravity-defying moves commanded the attention of the entire room.

He brushed the nagging thought aside. In his mind, Stella was a scheming, manipulative liar. She would never dare risk her cautious, meticulously crafted act as the dignified Mrs. Vance for an erotic, public club dance. She had spent the last four years playing the role of a perfect, timid housewife. The woman on that stage possessed a wild fire that Stella simply did not have.

Stepping away from the booming overhead speakers and the cheering crowd, Declan headed toward the quieter corridor. He pulled out his phone and dialed his home number, annoyance prickling at the back of his neck.

"Is Mrs. Vance at home?" Declan asked coldly the moment the line connected.

"She hasn't been back since morning, sir," the nervous maid stammered through the receiver.

Declan clenched his jaw. He ended the call without another word. A cold, contemptuous smirk spread across his face as he stared at his dark phone screen. He shoved the device back into his tailored pocket.

*Is she playing tricks for me to feel sorry for her? I won't fall for it.*

Retreating into the plush leather seating of their VIP booth, he picked up his half-empty glass of amber whiskey. His affluent friends tore into Stella without mercy. They recounted the infamous rumors with wicked glee, mocking how she trapped him into this miserable four-year marriage. They laughed about how she leaked their so-called accidental night of intimacy to hungry reporters, leaving the Vance family no choice but to accept her to save face.

One friend leaned over the table, swaying from the alcohol, and patted Declan's tense shoulder.

"You shouldn't have dated Stella, Declan. You should have ended things with her by throwing money at her. Instead, she played the victim and announced your engagement to the press. Not even soap operas write shameless stunts like that."

Declan frowned, recalling the unpleasant memories of his forced wedding. His face remained grim and unreadable.

Another friend chimed in, slurring his words. "Stop talking about the past. As a man, Declan couldn't do anything back then. Since they slept together by accident, paying her off would have looked bad."

"Why don't you ask Declan if it was really an accident? I bet that gold-digger set the whole trap up on purpose!"

The group paused, glancing at Declan's icy demeanor. When he did not speak up to stop them, they took it as permission to continue their mockery.

The first friend sneered, raising his glass in a mock toast. "You have been married to her for four years, Declan. I'm sure you have forgotten what she even looks like by now. Why not dump her? It's not worth wasting your time on garbage like her. I'm sure that only those hideous and poor men would want her after she had divorced you. After all, she is a perfect match for them!"

Cruel laughter and drunken snickers echoed through the smoky room. They clinked their glasses, celebrating his supposed misery while dragging his wife’s name through the mud.

Just outside the ajar door of the booth, Harper stood paralyzed in the shadows. Her fists were clenched so tight her knuckles shone stark white under the dim corridor lights. She vibrated with rage at the vile insults. She took a fierce step forward, fully intending to kick the door wide open and rip into every single one of them.

Stella calmly reached out and grabbed Harper's arm. With surprising firmness, she dragged her furious friend away down the neon-lit hallway, moving them further from the source of the cruel laughter.

Harper roared, her voice cracking with fury as she tried to pull her arm free. "Why did you stop me?! I can't overlook this when those arrogant bastards treat you like this! Did you hear what they called you?"

Stella stopped near the exit doors and patted her friend's trembling shoulder. Her expression remained as placid as a still, untouched lake.

"Let them say whatever they want. I'm already divorced."

Before yesterday, she would have cared. She would have shed tears over their cruel words and tried to explain herself. She used to bend over backward to prove her worth to Declan and his elitist circle, hoping they would see her true heart. She had done it all because she harbored a painful wish for a harmonious family. Now, having given up on that dream, the heavy chains of the Vance name no longer bound her. She no longer cared to waste her breath defending herself to people who despised her.

Harper seethed. Her chest heaved as she glared back in the direction of the VIP room. She hated how Declan never once defended Stella. She hated that he didn't even care to remember his own wife's face. She turned her blazing eyes back to Stella and made a fierce vow.

"I will show them how outstanding you are and who will be your perfect match! I am going to make them eat every single word."

The next day, the bright morning sun bathed the sprawling Vance Residence. Stella arrived at the opulent wrought-iron gates to retrieve something critical she had left behind. She chose to stand quietly outside on the pavement, crossing her arms as she waited for the maid. She refused to step foot inside that suffocating estate ever again.

Moments later, the low, powerful hum of a luxury engine approached the driveway. Declan pulled up in his sleek black car and braked sharply near the entrance. Seeing her waiting by the gates, his brow furrowed in irritation. He assumed her overnight absence was nothing but a calculated, childish tantrum meant to provoke a reaction from him. He rolled down the tinted window, wearing his signature disinterested expression.

"If you're done messing around, get back inside!" Declan ordered rudely from the driver's seat.

Startled by his sheer, unwavering arrogance, Stella offered a faint, almost pitying smile. She looked at the man she had loved for years and felt a wave of hollow relief.

"I'm afraid you must have lost your memory, Mr. Vance. We got a divorce yesterday."

Declan frowned deeply. His irritation spiked at her calm defiance and the formal way she addressed him. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

"Enough is enough. I was just being nice, and if you keep insisting, you will humiliate yourself!"

Before Stella could open her mouth to point out the absurdity of his twisted definition of niceness, loud, festive popping sounds interrupted them.

Confetti rained down from above in a massive, glittering shower of vibrant colors, fluttering over the pristine stone driveway and sticking to Declan’s expensive windshield. The loud explosions echoed down the quiet suburban street.

A giant, professionally printed banner unfurled from the side of a nearby modified transport vehicle. Massive, bold letters spelled out a clear, unapologetic message for the entire neighborhood to see.

*Congratulations on escaping your misery, Stella! You have gotten divorce successfully.*

Smaller signs popped up around the perimeter, held by individuals emerging from the vehicles, declaring *Happy divorce, Stella!* in bright glittery paint.

Stella stood dumbfounded. She blinked against the falling confetti, her mouth slightly agape as she processed the chaotic, ridiculous stunt playing out in front of her former home.

A handsome, perfectly built man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped forward from the crowd. He carried a massive, lavish bouquet of fresh red roses, easily holding over a hundred blooms. He walked with predatory confidence, his eyes locked on Stella. When he reached her, he smoothly dropped to one knee right in front of her, ignoring Declan’s black car.

"Will you be my girlfriend now, Stella?" the man asked. His smooth, rich voice projected clearly in the crisp morning air, cutting through the silence that had followed the confetti cannons.

Stella stared at the gorgeous man, her mind racing to comprehend Harper's theatrical retaliation.

The kneeling man continued, his gaze warm and intense. "I can't promise much, but I'll assure you that from the moment we are together, I will cherish you. I will listen to your words and watch as you smile beautifully. I will trust you and be by your side whenever you need me. Most importantly, I will never ever give you the cold shoulder."

Hearing the handsome man's loaded, pointed words, Declan's arrogant face turned to solid ice. A terrifying frost spread across his sharp features as his grip tightened on the leather steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the man kneeling before his former wife.