Page 27 of Sexted By a Stranger

Sheila

I used tweezers to pick up the sapphire, carefully embedding it in the center of the thorn-wrapped Starlight design on the cardboard.

The sound of knocking echoed through the room.

"Come in."

The door cracked open, and Lennox peeked in, holding a deep blue velvet tray in his hands.

"Sorry to bother you, Miss Stella." His voice was light and cheerful. "The gemstone samples you requested—the warehouse just finished organizing them. I brought them over for you."

On the tray, perfectly cut gems of various colors sparkled brilliantly against the velvet backdrop. They lay quietly in their individual compartments, waiting to be given souls.

"Thank you for your trouble, Lennox." I looked up, giving him a genuine smile. "This is exactly what I need."

Lennox's gaze swept over my spread-out design sketches. "Boss was really going against the grain when he insisted you lead the new collection, but now it looks like pure genius."

He paused, as if remembering something, then added, "Oh, right—John from the warehouse asked me to check with you about the timing for those Colombian emeralds you need for your competition piece.

He wants to confirm the exact pickup time.

He said the insurance certificate has been updated per the Boss's instructions, valid through the end of next month.

" Lennox's mouth curved into a slight smile as he mimicked John's slow, drawling tone.

"Don't want it getting delayed when security gets upgraded around the Boss's birthday party—that would mess up your big moment. "

Birthday party?

Luca's… birthday?

I'd been with Luca for quite some time, yet I'd never heard him mention his birthday, and I'd never thought to ask.

That man who controlled a vast dark empire seemed completely at odds with something as ordinary and warm as a birthday celebration.

Lennox didn't notice my reaction. He set down the tray, casually reminded me to stay safe, then politely excused himself and quietly closed the door behind him.

A thought, like a spring shoot breaking through soil, pushed aside all my hesitation and lingering shadows—I wouldn't wait until after the competition. On his birthday. I'd tell him about the baby, this life that carried our bloodline and embodied all my struggles and final decision.

Several weeks of peaceful, uneventful living had indeed relaxed my tense nerves considerably.

The main body of my design was complete, with only a few details left to work out with old George regarding the complex structural craftsmanship. Time had become more abundant.

Finally, on an evening when I'd finished modifying the design details, time flew by rapidly in the midst of busyness. I set down my pen, rubbing my somewhat sore wrist, and let out a long sigh of relief.

Today was the day.

I picked up my coat and handbag, then called my mother.

"Mom, you and Leon go ahead and eat dinner. I need to go buy something."

"Alright, sweetheart. Come home early and be careful," Mom reminded me.

"I will, Mom."

I gathered my things, hailed a cab, and headed straight for the shopping center.

As evening lights began to shine, the luxury boutique windows along Fifth Avenue lit up with brilliant illumination, making the entire street look like a flowing river of stars.

I walked into an old shop renowned for handcrafted silverware and high-end men's accessories.

"Good evening, madam. How may I help you?" A perfectly groomed salesperson approached.

"I'd like to look at tie clips and cufflinks," I said, my gaze already falling on the exquisite pieces gleaming with understated light in the glass display cases.

Platinum tie clips set with tiny black diamonds, sleek and sharp in design; a pair of deep sea blue enamel cufflinks embedded with miniature Starlight patterns, profound yet romantic.

My fingertips traced lightly over the cold glass surface as my mind involuntarily conjured images of Luca receiving these gifts.

Would he raise an eyebrow slightly? Would those brown eyes that always held deep secrets fill with surprise?

Would he put them on immediately? Or would he first pull me into his arms, using that low, possessive voice to whisper in my ear, "La mia stellina, is this a bribe?

" At the thought, my mouth curved upward completely beyond my control, and my cheeks grew warm.

After trying several pieces, I still felt something was missing.

Maybe I should look around more?

I thanked the salesperson and walked out, continuing to stroll along the brilliantly lit street.

Just then, an evening gown on a mannequin in a shop window caught my eye.

It was a wine-red velvet gown with an extremely simple design, no unnecessary embellishments. The only highlight was an elegant yet daring cutout on the back, woven with intricate black lace in a pattern of intertwining thorns that extended down to the waist.

My steps involuntarily stopped in front of the window.

The pleasant sound of wind chimes rang out as an impeccably made-up sales associate with a perfect smile approached gracefully.

"Good evening, madam. How may I assist you?" Her gaze swept over me briefly before landing precisely on the window I was studying.

"You have excellent taste. That's our limited edition Night Rose from this season—only one piece. Would you like to try it on?"

"Yes, please."

"Certainly, right this way." The sales associate led me toward the fitting area at the back of the store. There was a heavy wooden door that blocked the view between the inside and the outside.

The sales associate pulled open the door, revealing a comfortably arranged small space with a soft ottoman and a large full-length mirror.

"Please, I'll be right outside. Call me if you need anything." The sales associate handed me the dress, then stepped out and closed the door behind her.

The wooden door blocked out the lights and sounds from the shop outside, leaving only the soft glow from several overhead spotlights in the fitting room.

I eagerly took off my coat and carefully picked up that heavy velvet gown.

I turned my back to the mirror, my fingers just touching the buttons, preparing to remove my clothing—

A brutal force struck without warning from behind. A hand wearing thin black gloves, carrying an extremely pungent smell, clamped down hard over my mouth and nose. The smell instantly shot into my nasal cavity, straight to my brain, bringing an intense anesthetic sensation.

Ether.

Tremendous fear instantly gripped my heart. I struggled desperately, ramming my elbow backward, making gasping sounds in my throat.

Consciousness felt like it was being rapidly drained by an invisible hand. All my defensive tactics completely failed at that moment—I couldn't even lift my arms.

"Stay still." A deliberately lowered female voice hissed in my ear, carrying a vicious threat.

It was that sales associate.

Her strength was surprisingly powerful, her other hand clamping around my waist like an iron vise, making it impossible for me to move.

My vision began to blur, the overhead spotlights becoming dazzling spots of light. My last remaining consciousness drove me to cross my hands and press them protectively over my abdomen.

Bone-chilling cold yanked me back from the abyss of unconsciousness.

My eyelids felt like they were filled with lead, taking tremendous effort to crack open even slightly.

Thick, impenetrable darkness surrounded me, the rough, cold texture of concrete beneath me.

A strong, familiar smell mixed with dust and the sour stench of something rotting entered my nostrils—it was the distinctive scent of the Celestial, the decay and filth accumulated over years.

I'd been brought to this place? Was Connor hiding here all along?

As if a bucket of ice water had been poured over my entire body, my remaining consciousness fully awakened, followed by overwhelming terror.

Connor. That man who hated Luca with every fiber of his being. I'd fallen into his hands.

The heavy iron door was pushed open. A harsh flashlight beam shot in roughly, stabbing my eyes painfully.

Heavy footsteps filled with malice approached step by step.

I curled up, desperately trying to suppress my body's trembling, forcing myself to open my eyes against that blinding light.

Behind the beam was Connor Murphy's dark, twisted face. Black leather jacket, stubbled chin, eyes rolling with undisguised venom and a kind of nearly insane satisfaction. He loomed over me like looking at prey in a trap.

"Awake now, 'stellina'?" He spoke mockingly, his voice particularly hoarse.

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly bent down—

And slapped me twice in the face with full strength.

The massive impact sent my head jerking to one side, my entire body crashing back onto the cold ground, my cheek scraped raw against the rough surface.

I groaned in pain, my vision going black, nearly losing consciousness again.

"Bitch." Connor spat, his furious voice exploding in the cramped space, making my eardrums ring.

"Look what I am now! A rat hiding in a stinking sewer.

This is all thanks to you. If it weren't for you, you fucking plague, how would Luca Bellomo be chasing me like a rabid dog?

My territory. My business. Everything I had.

All fucking ruined! All because of you!"

He paced in front of me like a completely enraged caged beast, limping, the flashlight beam swinging wildly with his movements, casting his shadow twisted and enlarged on the walls like a grotesque demon.

The severe pain and taste of blood stimulated my nerves, but I understood that provoking this already insane beast would have unthinkable consequences.

I had to survive.

I curled up on the ground, pleading with heavy sobs,

"I'm-I'm sorry, Mr. Murphy." I lifted my face, letting the flashlight shine directly on the swelling and blood marks.

"I-I didn't want this either. Luca forced me.

He locked me by his side. I couldn't escape.

I hate him! I really hate him!" By the end, I was sobbing uncontrollably, my shoulders shaking as if they might fall apart.

"Please let me go. I'm just a useless mistress.

Luca won't care. He won't risk his life for me. "

Connor stopped pacing, those sinister eyes boring into me, as if examining the truth in my words, evaluating my worth as a bargaining chip.

"Whether he cares or not, we'll find out soon enough.

" He sneered coldly. "Luca Bellomo will soon receive my 'invitation.

' Then we'll see what he's willing to pay for his 'stellina'.

" He bent down, that face reeking of tobacco and alcohol leaning close to me, cloudy eyes flashing with malicious light.

"As for you—stay put. Try any tricks…" He suddenly raised his hand, pretending to strike again.

I flinched in terror, letting out a frightened whimper, squeezing my eyes shut.

The slap didn't fall. Connor seemed satisfied with my reaction, straightened up, and shouted toward the door, "Watch her closely." Then, without another glance at me, he turned and left. The iron door slammed shut again.

Once I was sure he was gone, I slowly, deeply exhaled, my tense body instantly going limp and collapsing to the ground. The cold sweat on my back had long since soaked through my thin clothing, sticking icily to my skin.

Connor had been temporarily fooled by me. But since he wanted to use me to threaten Luca, I might not necessarily survive in his hands. I had to find a way to save myself. I couldn't just sit and wait for death.

Sheila, stay calm. Think of something.

I began to carefully move my body. I extended my still-movable fingers and started to feel around inch by inch, extremely slowly, exploring the ground beneath me and the walls beside me.

I didn't know how much time had passed—maybe minutes, maybe hours. Just when my fingertips were numb from cold and continuous effort, and the shadow of despair was trying to swallow me again—

My right index finger suddenly touched an extremely small protrusion on the cold concrete floor at the base of the wall. It wasn't gravel, but more like a thin, elongated piece of metal embedded in the cement crack.

I held my breath, using all my strength to control my trembling fingers, carefully using my nail to catch the edge of that protrusion, bit by bit, extremely slowly digging it out.

Sweat mixed with blood slid into the corner of my eye, bringing a sharp pain. I gritted my teeth, not daring to make any sound. Finally, the sensation at my fingertips became clear—yes! It was metal! About the length of a finger.

I gripped the tiny exposed end with two fingers, using every ounce of strength I had, and yanked it out with all my might.

A cold, slender metal object fell into my sweaty palm.

In the darkness, I couldn't see exactly what it looked like, only able to urgently explore its outline with trembling fingers—elongated, one end was a plastic handle, the other end was a metal blade.

Although the edge felt somewhat dull, even with small nicks, this was definitely a small knife that could bring hope.

Heaven never seals off all exits.

I immediately gripped this life-saving blade tightly in my palm, edge facing inward, and carefully hid it with my sleeve.

After doing all this, I collapsed against the bone-chillingly cold wall as if I'd exhausted all my strength, gasping heavily.

I knew Luca would definitely come. He would tear through this darkness like a descending god.

But I couldn't just wait. I had to do something to create an advantage for his rescue and to fight for the greatest chance of survival for myself and the baby.

I gripped the small blade in my sleeve and pressed it against the rope.

Then I began, again and again, using all my strength and patience, extremely slowly and repeatedly sawing away.

Each friction brought tearing pain, the knife wasn't sharp, and progress was barely visible.

But I couldn't stop.

Only one thought filled my mind: Hold on, Sheila. Wait for him.

Stay alive.