Stella was babysitting Bella today, keeping her distracted while Naomi underwent her transformation into a vampire. It would take a few days, and they didn't want Bella anywhere near the chaos of it.
"Hey, little troublemaker, how about we go out for the evening, grab some dinner, and then head back?" Stella suggested, watching Bella munch on a piece of meat.
Bella nodded enthusiastically, her sharp little teeth sinking into her food as she chewed.
Stella headed to her room, slipping into a brown halter-neck crop top and high-waisted, wide-legged pants of the same shade. She swept her golden hair into a loose bun—her usual effortless style—before grabbing her bag.
By the time they stepped out, the sky had melted into shades of orange and purple. The city buzzed with life, but for Stella, the evening was just about Bella and making sure she had a good time.
Stella and Bella wandered through the city, the evening air cool against their skin as they enjoyed the bustling streets. Laughter and chatter filled the air, blending with the distant sounds of music and clinking glasses from nearby restaurants.
Meanwhile, Simon, who had been prowling the streets, spotted them. His sharp eyes darkened as he observed the scene before him.
Simon had been watching from a distance, arms crossed, the dim city lights casting jagged shadows across his sharp features. Then, his eyes landed on them—Stella and the little girl, walking side by side, their laughter carrying through the cool evening air.
Something in his chest tightened.
She looked… different. Not the fierce, sharp-tongued woman who challenged him at every turn, but softer, lighter, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted off her shoulders.
His jaw clenched.
"She's not only married but has a daughter too," he muttered under his breath, irritation lacing his voice. The thought sent a fresh wave of possessiveness surging through him.
Unaware of his presence, Stella turned to Bella, kneeling to her level.
"Hey, sweetheart, I need to step away for a moment. Will you be okay waiting here? I promise I'll be quick," she said gently.
Bella nodded, still chewing on a bite of her snack. "Don't worry, Aunt Stella, I'll stay right here."
Stella hesitated. She wasn't fully convinced.
"I'm ready to rescue any damsel in distress," Rocco's voice cut in, his usual teasing smirk in place as he leaned against a nearby lamppost.
Stella sighed in relief. "Fine. Watch her. And make sure she doesn't talk to strangers," she said, already stepping back.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Just go."
"Reserve us a table," she added before disappearing toward the restrooms.
Rocco rolled his eyes and turned to Bella. "Alright, kid, sit tight. No running off."
Bella saluted playfully, and Rocco chuckled before heading to place their order.
Meanwhile, from the shadows, Simon's gaze remained locked on Stella's retreating form, his jaw tightening.
Simon saw the opportunity and seized it.
Simon crouched down, his sharp gaze locking onto the little girl before him.
"Hi, little one," he said smoothly, voice dipped in something deceptively soft.
Bella frowned, small arms crossing over her chest in instant suspicion. Her innocent eyes narrowed, assessing him the way only a child could—pure and unfiltered.
"I'm a friend of Stella's. Do you know me?" he asked, keeping his tone light, almost playful.
Bella's frown deepened. A moment passed. Then, with unwavering certainty, she shook her head. "Aunt Stella only has Momma, Dada, and Uncle Roc as her friends," she declared.
Simon stilled. His smirk didn't falter, but something inside him shifted.
Aunt.
Not mother.
The tension gripping his chest loosened, a wave of unexpected relief washing over him. He hadn't even realized he was holding onto something so tight until that very moment.
So, she wasn't a mother.
Interesting.
Before he could say anything else, a sharp voice sliced through the moment like a blade.
"Excuse me."
Simon straightened, slow and deliberate, turning to face the intruder.
Rocco.
The man's expression was hard, eyes filled with a protective fury that burned beneath the surface.
Simon met his glare with nothing but amusement, leaning back against the bench as if he owned the entire damn place. "Looks like your wife talks about me a lot," he mused, smirk widening.
Rocco's brows pulled together, his face twisting into something between confusion and irritation. "My wife—?" He scoffed, completely thrown off. What the hell was this lunatic talking about? Since when did he have a wife?
Then it clicked.
That bastard thought—
A cold laugh left Rocco as he ran a hand through his hair. "That girl is not my wife," he said, voice edged with finality. His eyes darkened as he took a deliberate step forward. "She's my sister. And if you ever torment her again, I swear I'll end you myself."
The threat hung thick in the air.
Simon? Unbothered.
In fact, he looked intrigued.
"Things just keep getting more interesting," Simon murmured, tilting his head like he was savoring the moment. "So where is her husband, then? I'd like to have a chat with him."
Rocco let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Look, I don't know what kind of twisted game you're playing, but stop," he said, voice lowering. "Her husband died years ago."
Simon's smirk finally faded. Just a fraction.
Dead?
His fingers curled slightly against the table, the weight of that revelation settling in.
The silence between them was different now. Heavier.
Rocco didn't wait for a response. He was done with this conversation. "You need to leave," he said, his tone final.
And for the first time, Simon obeyed.
Not out of fear. No, fear was a foreign concept to him.
But because he had just learned something crucial.
Stella was not married.
She had no husband.
Whoever the man was, he was long gone.
And that changed everything.
Simon cast one last glance at Bella—who was still staring at him with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty—before turning on his heel and slipping into the night.
Tonight had been… enlightening.
And now, he needed to decide exactly what to do with this newfound knowledge.