My Amnesic Ex Married My Sister, So I Married His Uncle-Chapter 104: How to Keep Her?

Coming down from the third-floor art studio, Stella led Ken to Owen’s study, considering he was here on business.

Stella had messaged Owen at noon, explaining she needed to discuss Zion Shawcross’s album cover with Ken and asking if she could use his study.

To Stella, a study always felt like a very private place.

Back at the Sterling residence, only Gavin Sterling was allowed in the study. No one else, not even Ms. Jennings, could set foot inside without his permission.

Even the housekeeper could only go in for the weekly cleaning on weekends when he was home.

’Who knew what secrets Gavin Sterling was hiding in that study of his.’

That’s why, despite living with Owen, she had asked for his permission first.

He had replied quickly, and the answer, of course, was that she was free to use it.

This was the first time Stella had set foot in Owen’s study since moving into Lanthos Bay.

As the door opened, a familiar scent of pine and bamboo wafted out, mingled with a hint of old paper.

Bookshelves stretching to the ceiling lined both sides of the room, filled with books. A few select shelves held decorative objects. The overall color scheme was cool and austere—very much Owen’s style.

Stella had assumed his study would be filled with books on finance and economics, but a quick glance revealed they were mostly works of literature.

That came as a bit of a surprise.

A large desk sat before the window, its surface neat and orderly. To one side was a black velvet box, inside which rested a diamond-encrusted fountain pen.

Stella didn’t go near the desk, sitting down with Ken at the coffee table to the side.

She had her laptop with her. After copying the demos Ken had brought, she put on her headphones and started to listen.

Ken had brought demos for three songs from Zion Shawcross’s new album, each a clip of about forty-five seconds.

As she listened, Stella immediately took a liking to a song that opened with the sound of ocean waves.

When she asked which song it was, he slapped his thigh. "I knew it! I know you so well. I was sure you’d like this one! And what do you know, it’s the title track for Zion Shawcross’s album."

The catchy melody flowed from the headphones. Stella closed her eyes, letting it wash over her, and an image already began to form in her mind.

She opened her eyes. "I think this could work. But there’s definitely not enough time to do an impression painting for every song. If they agree, I can do the cover design and an impression piece for the title track."

"My thoughts exactly."

That was exactly what Ken had been thinking from the start. He was about to propose the same plan to Stella, but she beat him to it.

After so many years of working together, they were still in sync.

The two were highly efficient. Once Ken understood Stella’s intentions, he wanted to strike while the iron was hot and head straight to Vantage to discuss the specific details of the collaboration.

It was too good an opportunity to miss.

So he put on his flat cap and hurried to leave.

As she saw him to the door, Stella thought for a moment and called out to him.

"Ken."

"What is it, Boss? Are there any other requirements?"

"Could you help me schedule my current projects along with this new collaboration? I want to take some time off after November, so I’d like to get all my current work finished before then."

Knowing Stella had a habit of taking a break for a while each year, he didn’t think much of it and immediately agreed, planning to rearrange her schedule as soon as he got back.

After seeing Ken off, Stella returned to the master bedroom for a moment before stepping back into the study.

Now that she wasn’t working, she lingered in front of the bookshelves, hands clasped behind her back, slowly scanning the spines.

When a book piqued her interest, she would pull it from the shelf and flip through its pages.

The books had annotations and notes in the margins, clear signs that they had been thoroughly read.

’So, Owen was a closet intellectual after all.’

Meanwhile, the man Stella had just dubbed a "closet intellectual" was sitting at his own large desk, frowning and silent.

The finance manager standing before him was under immense pressure, not knowing if the president’s next words would be a reprimand or an order to pack his things and leave.

Unlike previous encounters, the president’s silence this time was... a little too long.

So long, in fact, that the finance manager couldn’t help but shoot Liam Hawthorne a look, silently asking what was going on.

Liam also felt that Owen was acting strangely today.

Finally, after ten long minutes, Liam stepped closer to Owen and murmured, "President Rhodes, do you have any further instructions for the finance department?"

Owen snapped out of it, his gaze drifting to the window as he blinked.

His fingers curled in slight embarrassment. "You can go back to your work."

"Of course, President Rhodes. Let me know if you need anything else."

The finance manager held his breath as he walked out of the office. Only when the door clicked shut did he let out a long sigh of relief.

After the finance manager left, Owen’s gaze fell upon Liam.

Liam felt a sudden, inexplicable chill. He turned his head and saw that his president’s expression today was...

...impossibly mournful.

"Liam."

Liam lowered his head slightly, assuming an attitude of patient readiness. "President Rhodes, what can I do for you?"

Owen stared at him for a long moment before asking, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I do. My girlfriend is... Huh? What did you just say?"

His mouth had moved faster than his brain. He stopped mid-sentence, thinking he must have misheard.

’Can that be right?’

’Why would the perpetually busy president suddenly take an interest in his love life?’

Seeing the "when pigs fly" look on Liam’s face, Owen reined in the faint trace of eagerness and waved a dismissive hand. "It’s nothing. Get back to work."

Liam, looking slightly dazed, averted his eyes. He blinked, trying to reel his scattered thoughts back in.

"Yes, President Rhodes."

Only when he was alone in the office again did Owen allow his brow to furrow, his expression completely unguarded.

Owen’s mood persisted until that evening, when he found himself sitting at a card table with a few of his buddies in a private room on the third floor of the Qillian Club.

The moment Silas Jacobs saw him, he knew something was off.

A gossipy grin spread across his face as he nudged Owen with his foot under the table. "What’s with you? You look sexually frustrated. Newlywed life not treating you well?"

Owen was in no mood for his jokes.

He shot Silas a glacial look, and Silas instinctively straightened his slouching posture, pulling back the foot that was still nudging Owen’s pant leg.

Wyatt Keating pushed up his glasses. "Bad mood? Did you and Stella have a fight?"

The lesson already forgotten, Silas piped up again.

"No way. They can’t fight. This guy dotes on Stella like she’s the apple of his eye."

Wyatt paid him no mind, not even glancing his way. He just looked at Owen. "So, what’s going on?"

The game was underway, their hands moving deftly as they drew their cards.

Owen finally spoke. "I think Ethan Rhodes got his memory back."

"Whoa. And you’re here playing cards? Aren’t you worried your darling wife is going to leave you?"

For once, Owen didn’t have a snappy comeback for Silas’s taunts. "...That’s why I wanted to ask you guys... how do I get her to stay?"

Wyatt: ’This is a fool practically begging to be scammed.’

Julian: ’Heh. Love.’

Silas: ’Finally! The day has come to see you brought low! HAHA!’