Secretly Married for 4 Years, He Regrets to Tears After the Divorce-Chapter 184: Don’t Want to Hurt Her

Spencer Sawyer was silent for a moment. "No need."

After hanging up, he buried his head in his paperwork, focusing all his thoughts on work and using it to numb himself.

Time ticked by, second by second. The sky grew darker, and the city’s neon signs and streetlights began to flicker on, one by one. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Spencer had been so busy he’d lost all track of time, forgetting that Stella Sinclair was at home waiting for him.

Just as Spencer was completely immersed in his work, unable to pull himself away, his phone rang.

The ringtone shattered the silence, sounding particularly jarring in the quiet office.

Spencer frowned and answered the call. Stella’s concerned voice reached his ear.

"Are you still busy? It’s getting late. You can’t skip dinner no matter how busy you are. I’ve been waiting for you. Please come home, okay?"

Spencer glanced at the time. It was indeed very late.

He recalled the moment they parted ways at the entrance of the Civil Affairs Bureau, when Stella had hugged him from behind.

Her embrace was gentle, yet it carried an undeniable firmness.

This feeling of his personal space being invaded made him want to resist instinctively, but deep down, he felt a strange stirring.

Spencer rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to suppress the feeling.

"Just eat by yourself. You don’t have to wait for me. If you’re tired, go to bed. You don’t have to wait up."

Stella’s heart sank. "We’re husband and wife. How could I not wait for you?"

"Stella..."

"I know what you’re going to say. No matter what you say, I’ll wait for you. If you don’t come back, I won’t eat or sleep." Stella’s tone was resolute, a mixture of petulance and defiance.

’Being left all alone on their wedding night... how could she possibly stomach that?’

’If word got out, how could she, Miss Sutton, ever show her face in public again?’

Spencer felt a headache coming on. He hadn’t expected Stella to be so stubborn.

He sighed helplessly. "I’m heading back now. I’ll be home in about half an hour."

Stella immediately brightened up, the gloom in her heart vanishing in an instant.

"Okay, I’ll be waiting. Drive safe and don’t rush. I’ll wait for you no matter how late it is."

Spencer hung up, feeling mentally exhausted.

This marriage was nothing more than an exchange of benefits between their two families. There were no feelings involved.

But Stella didn’t seem to recognize this. He worried that the deeper she fell, the more she would be hurt in the future.

’And he didn’t want to hurt her.’

...

The hands on the wall clock pointed to ten o’clock.

Stella reheated the cold dishes and brought them to the dining table, plate by plate. She didn’t feel tired at all.

Spencer pushed open the front door. The soft light in the foyer illuminated the fatigue etched between his brows.

He walked into the living room, and the scene before him made him pause. The dining table was covered with an elegant cream-colored tablecloth, laden with a sumptuous spread of dishes.

Pan-seared steaks were still steaming, steamed scallops with garlic and vermicelli were artfully arranged, the stir-fried vegetables were vibrant and fresh, and there was even a tureen of what looked like a long-simmered yam and pork rib soup.

"You’re back." Stella walked out of the kitchen with a gentle smile on her face. She wore a simple apron and was carrying a bowl of fruit salad.

She set down the salad, turned, and walked to the entryway, opening her arms to embrace Spencer.

"It’s good you’re back. I told you I’d wait, no matter how late."

Spencer’s body visibly stiffened. The hug lasted for two or three seconds before he subtly pushed her away and placed his briefcase on the sofa.

"I’m going to wash my hands first." He turned, walked to the bathroom, and shut the door.

A few minutes later, Spencer returned to the dining room to find that Stella had taken off her apron and was sitting patiently, waiting for him.

She had poured him a glass of red wine. The crystalline liquid swirled in the stemmed glass, reflecting the warm yellow light.

"Try the steak. I cooked it medium-well, just how you like it." Stella placed a piece of steak on his plate, her eyes full of anticipation.

Spencer cut a small piece and put it in his mouth, nodding. "Not bad."

A brief silence fell over the table, broken only by the faint clinking of cutlery against plates.

Stella struggled to find a topic of conversation. "Is the company so busy because something came up?"

"It’s nothing, just regular business."

"Were you always this busy every day?"

"More or less."

"From now on, can you try to get off work on time? Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not asking you to come home to keep me company. I just worry that working overtime so often is bad for your health."

Spencer gave a noncommittal response, "I’ll try."

After that, no matter what Stella said, Spencer’s replies were lukewarm. He clearly had no desire to chat with her.

The light in Stella’s eyes gradually dimmed, but she persisted, raising her glass. "Today is a special day, one worth remembering. Let’s have a toast."

Spencer hesitated for a moment but still raised his glass.

The crisp clink of the glasses seemed to strike her heart.

After a few glasses of wine, the atmosphere seemed to relax a little.

A blush appeared on Stella’s cheeks as she refilled both their glasses.

"This red wine was recommended by Mrs. Foster. She said it was excellent."

Spencer didn’t know Mrs. Foster and had no interest in finding out who she was.

"Don’t drink too much."

Though he told Stella not to drink too much, he himself drained glass after glass, as if venting some frustration or drowning his sorrows.

Before they knew it, the two had finished an entire bottle of red wine.

Stella opened another bottle and said with a smile, "Tonight, we drink until we drop."

And so, they went back and forth, glass for glass. In no time, they had finished two bottles of red wine.

Stella was clearly a little drunk, her head spinning. She stood up, swayed over to Spencer’s side, and plopped right down on his lap, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Stella..." Spencer started. He wasn’t drunk, but his head was also a bit fuzzy. He knew what he was doing, and he knew what Stella was doing.

Stella whispered, "Spencer Sawyer, I like you. I really do."

Emboldened by the alcohol, she leaned close to Spencer, kissing him while clumsily trying to unbutton his shirt.

Spencer pushed her away. He was perfectly sober. "Don’t do this, Stella."

"Why not? We’re husband and wife! Why can’t we be intimate like other married couples?" Tears welled up in Stella’s eyes, and her voice was filled with grievance.

Spencer didn’t answer. He stood up and turned toward the guest room.

"I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight. You should go back to the master bedroom and get some rest."

Stella got up and followed him to the guest room door. She watched Spencer go inside and then heard the distinct sound of the lock turning.

That single CLICK was piercing in the silent night, and it stabbed at her heart.

Tears streamed down Stella’s face. Heartbroken, she sank to the floor, hugging her knees, feeling a sorrow more profound than any she had ever known.

A moment later, she slowly rose to her feet and walked unsteadily into the master bedroom.

Stella couldn’t accept being given the cold shoulder by Spencer. She was still young; was she supposed to live like a widow while married?

’No, she refused to live like that. She had to make Spencer Sawyer fall in love with her.’

Stella wiped away her tears. Fueled by liquid courage and with little rationality left, she took out her phone and contacted a mysterious person.

The call connected.

"Miss Sutton, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call today?"

Stella was in no mood for pleasantries. She got straight to the point. "Get me something that’ll make a man addicted. Money is no object. Just name your price."