The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance

It was Keen's first time here, and everything about the place intrigued him.

Stella had prepared a room just for him.

Her apartment was spacious; besides her own bedroom, and the ones reserved for Abby Murphy and Marvin, there were still two empty rooms left.

When she finished making up the guest room, Stella found Keen sitting quietly on the living room couch, lost in thought.

She walked over and asked, "What would you like for dinner tonight? I'll cook something for you."

Keen snapped out of his daze. "Your hand is hurt, Mom. You shouldn't be cooking. Let's just order takeout instead."

As he spoke, something seemed to occur to him. He turned to Stella and said, "Mom, that ointment I gave you isn't just for scars. It helps with swelling and bruises, too."

Eager to be helpful, Keen added, "Let me put some on your hand."

Stella didn't refuse. She took the ointment Keen had given her out of her bag.

Keen tried to recall the instructions Mr. Richards had told him, and then gently applied the ointment to the scrape on Stella's arm.

A faint, soothing fragrance slowly filled the room.

Stella had studied medicine for a while, so she could tell at a glance that the ointment was of excellent quality.

She asked, "Did your father give this to you?"

Keen shook his head. "No, I bought it myself."

Stella didn't press further.

O'Brien Group, President's Office.

Foreman Richards reported Karl's situation to Haynes.noveldrama

Haynes listened, frowning. "You're saying Karl was stripped naked and dumped in the middle of the street?"

Foreman nodded. "Yes. Our people only roughed him up a bit, but apparently someone else was watching him."

Haynes's eyes turned cold. "Sellers will probably pin this whole mess on us."

There's a line you don't cross. Beating someone up is one thing, but humiliating them like that is another matter entirely.

Foreman picked up his teacup and took a slow sip.

"Haynie, we've covered our tracks perfectly this time. There's no way they can trace this back to us. And judging by what happened, Karl's made plenty of enemies. It'd be pure luck if they guessed it was us."

He set his cup down and gave a faint smile. "And even if they do suspect us, so what? Are we

supposed to be afraid of the Burtons

now?" vel

Haynes's voice was low. "I'm not worried about Karl. What bothers

me is

he can't find anyone else to blame, he might go after Star again."

"He won't," Foreman replied, his tone certain and unwavering.

Haynes looked at him. "And how can you be so sure?"

Foreman's hand paused on the cup, a fleeting darkness passing through his eyes.

"Haynie, don't forget the Burtons still have Mr. Burton. He won't just stand by if something happens to Ms. Cameron."

Haynes tapped his long, pale fingers lightly against the desk.

Something still felt off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Suddenly, he noticed a fresh scratch on Foreman's forearm where his shirtsleeve was rolled up.

He narrowed his eyes. “Foreman, did you hurt yourself?"

Foreman tugged his sleeve back down, brushing it off. "Just the cat at home. Scratched me earlier."

He stood up. "Haynie, I've got work piling up at the office. If there's nothing else, I'll get going."

Haynes nodded.

But instead of returning to the office, Foreman drove back to his villa.

He unlocked a hidden door and entered a room covered in photos of Stella.

Rolling up his sleeve, he revealed a wound on his arm-identical to the one on Stella's.

He raised his arm, took a deep breath, and pressed a reverent kiss to the mark.