Chapter 1097: Chapter 1097: Don’t Want to Talk to Me?
No matter what Vincent Warner said, Stella Charlie just stared blankly at the screen.
She didn’t speak, nor did she react much.
After a moment of silence on both sides, Stella Charlie suddenly hung up the phone.
Vincent Warner pondered for a while, but he couldn’t put his mind at ease. He picked up his coat and car keys and went out.
"Where are you going this late?!"
Vincent Warner glanced at his mother, responding coldly, "I have something to do."
"Going to see that woman?"
Vincent didn’t answer again, changed his shoes, and went out the door.
"If you dare to leave tonight, I’ll make you regret this impulsiveness!"
Vincent acted as if he didn’t hear, and drove away from the villa.
After a two-hour drive, when Vincent Warner arrived home, Stella Charlie was already asleep in a drunken stupor.
As soon as he pushed open the door, Vincent Warner frowned.
Several pairs of high heels were tipped over by the door, and the flowers in the vase at the entrance had begun to wither and decay.
The room was a mess beyond description, with various brands of bottles laying askew on the coffee table, including beer, liquor, and wine.
Clothing she had changed out of and stockings were scattered on the carpet, all piled chaotically together.
It was not hard to tell that while he was away, Stella Charlie had been living poorly.
He pushed open the bedroom door, the room’s air conditioning was set very low, and her small body was curled up under the blanket, occupying only a tiny bit of the edge of the bed.
Approaching her, he immediately caught a strong whiff of alcohol on her.
Vincent Warner furrowed his brows tightly, sat by the bed, and removed the high heels from her feet.
He was somewhat angry that Stella Charlie had let herself become like this, yet couldn’t bear to blame her.
He went to the bathroom, wrung a hot towel, and repeatedly wiped away the makeup that had already run down her face.
Stella Charlie was stirred awake, her gaze blurry as she looked at Vincent Warner.
Before Vincent could speak, Stella Charlie proactively wrapped her arms around his neck, trembling as she brought her lips to his.
Her technique was clumsy, but it still successfully stirred Vincent Warner’s longing for her.
Perhaps it was the influence of alcohol, but this time Stella Charlie was more proactive than ever before.
But there was no technique to speak of, even giving a sense of drunken insanity.
Eventually, she collapsed in his arms, crying continuously, and no matter what he said or asked, she seemed to lose her soul.
Finally, she nestled in his arms and cried herself to sleep.
Vincent Warner held her tenderly, staying awake the whole night.
He recalled when he first met Stella Charlie. Though she wasn’t particularly enthusiastic, she was nonetheless gentle and serene.
But now it seemed as if she had completely changed.
The next day, when Stella Charlie woke up, sunlight had already streamed in through the window.
She moved her body, feeling a bit sore.
She turned her head to look at the space next to her, her eyes dimming.
It seemed she was dreaming again, thinking he had truly returned.
Stella Charlie lay still under the blanket, staring blankly at the sunlight coming through the window.
"Awake?"
Stella Charlie was startled, and when she turned her head, Vincent Warner was already in front of her.
Seeing Stella Charlie’s dazed expression, Vincent Warner sat down by the bed and touched her face with his hand: "Still not sober from the alcohol?"
It appeared it wasn’t a dream...
Stella Charlie, somewhat resistant, shrank her neck to avoid his touch.
Vincent Warner’s hand paused awkwardly, and he softly asked, "What is wrong with you?"
Stella Charlie still didn’t say a word, her eyes rimmed with wet redness, she turned away with the blanket in her embrace.
"Don’t want to talk to me?"
Stella Charlie, with her back to him, took a deep breath, her voice choked and hoarse: "...If that night I had just been hit dead by you, that would have been great."
