Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival! - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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It was her mentor's final work—Spring Mountain Mist!
The familiar brushstrokes instantly reminded her of the professor's frail hands in his final days.
In her memory, he always lovingly patted her head saying: "Stella, this painting is my life's work..."
Now that he was gone and his wife cried daily, if she could win this painting, it would surely comfort the grieving woman.
"Five million." She raised her paddle without hesitation.
"Chase..." Sophia suddenly tugged his sleeve. "This painting is so beautiful."
Chase immediately raised his paddle: "Ten million."
Stella gritted her teeth: "Twenty million."
"Thirty million."
The price kept climbing. The entire auction house fell silent while Stella noticed Marcus, Preston, and Damien quietly lowering their paddles—because Sophia was staring longingly at the painting.
How ironic.
Just ten minutes ago they'd sworn: "Whatever Stella wants, we'll buy it for you."
Her nails dug into her palms as she raised her paddle again: "Fifty million."
"Eighty million."
"One hundred million."
Finally, Chase went completely overboard!
As he got up to swipe his card, his long legs striding across the red carpet, he didn't spare even a peripheral glance at Stella's pale face.
"Stella, don't be sad," Marcus quickly consoled her. "If you really love this painting, I'll check backstage right now for something similar to bid on..."
"Me too!" Preston immediately chimed in.
"Count me in!" Damien followed suit.
As their hasty retreating figures blurred in Stella's vision, she took a deep breath, forced down the bitter feeling in her chest, and walked straight toward Sophia, who was being surrounded like a star.
"Name your price for this painting," Stella's voice was terrifyingly calm. "Five times, ten times, twenty times—whatever."
Sophia laughed lightly, a flash of smugness in her eyes: "So the heiress begs people too?"
She tilted her head with fake innocence: "But money can't buy everything. I don't really wanna sell right now, but if you REALLY want it..." She blinked. "Get on your knees and beg me."
Stella's breathing hitched slightly.
This face always acted helpless around men but turned vicious with her.
This was exactly why she'd never liked Sophia, past or present.
She still couldn't understand what those four men saw in her.
Stella clenched her fists: "I said money's no object."
"But I wanna see you kneel," Sophia smiled sweetly. "Otherwise…"
Stella's gaze fell on the painting casually held in Sophia's hands.
It was her mentor's final work, something his wife desperately missed. Thinking of the old woman's tear-stained face, Stella's heart felt crushed by an invisible hand.
"Fine, I'll kneel!"
Finally, she slowly dropped to her knees before everyone's eyes.
The cold marble floor sent bone-deep chill through her thin dress, but it was nothing compared to her inner pain.
Standing up, Stella's voice was deadly calm: "Can you give it to me now?"
But Sophia suddenly smiled—a smile filled with chilling malice.
Right in front of Stella, she gripped both ends of the frame—
"RIP!"
The sound of canvas tearing echoed harshly through the silent auction hall.
"You!" Fury exploded in Stella's head as she slapped Sophia hard across the face.
"Stella!" Chase's voice boomed like thunder. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Chase..." Sophia covered her cheek, tears appearing instantly. "Don't blame Miss Whitmore. It's all my fault for coming to the auction with you..."
Her delicate fingers clutched Chase's sleeve, her voice perfectly choked: "Miss Whitmore likes you, so seeing you buy me all these things made her angry. That's totally normal."
"I know my existence makes things awkward for you both..." Sophia suddenly pushed Chase away, stumbling backward. "If that's the case, then let me just disappear forever!"
With that, she spun toward the floor-to-ceiling window at lightning speed.
"Sophia!"
Chase's anguished roar filled the auction hall, but it was too late—
"CRASH!"
Glass shattered as a heavy thud echoed from below, the sounds amplifying endlessly in Stella's ears.
She rushed to the window to see Sophia lying in a pool of blood like a broken butterfly, yet her lips curved in a triumphant smile.
Chase completely lost it.
He cradled the bloody Sophia in his arms, his voice hoarse with rage: "Get her to the hospital! NOW!"
He stared at Stella with murder in his eyes: "Stella, you better pray to God that Sophia's okay. Otherwise, I'll make you pay with your life!"
Under the hospital's harsh fluorescent lights, time seemed frozen.
A doctor rushed over, panic in his voice: "The patient's hemorrhaging badly and needs a transfusion. But she has Rh-negative blood and our supply is critically low..."
Chase whipped around, his gaze cutting into Stella like a blade: "You're Rh-negative too."
"No..." Sophia weakly opened her eyes from the hospital bed. "It's all my fault. Miss Whitmore is anemic—please don't make her give me blood..."
"Even now you're worried about her, Sophia. You're too kind." Chase immediately took her hand, his voice impossibly gentle, like soothing a frightened child. But when he turned to Stella, his eyes were arctic ice: "Tie her down!"
"Chase, you wouldn't dare!"
"Watch me!"
Stella was roughly shoved onto an operating table, the cold metal surface against her back.
She fought desperately, her legs kicking over the instrument tray, medical tools clattering across the floor.
"Hold her down!" Chase barked.
Three or four bodyguards swarmed her, pinning down her limbs.
Stella's hair was disheveled, her dress torn in the struggle, exposing her pale shoulders.
"Chase!" She screamed his name with unprecedented desperation. "You're gonna regret this..."
"You're the one who should regret," Chase sneered, personally inserting the needle into her vein.
Blood flowed through the tubes as Stella's consciousness began to fade.
In her daze, she felt transported back to that rainy night in her past life—blinding headlights, screaming brakes, and across the street, the cold stares of Chase and the others.
Only Ryder Blackthorne had stumbled through the rain to hold her mangled body.
"Ryder..." Stella's tears mixed with blood, blooming like crimson flowers on the operating table. "When are you coming back... I miss you so much..."
Her voice grew weaker until it vanished into the cold air.
The familiar brushstrokes instantly reminded her of the professor's frail hands in his final days.
In her memory, he always lovingly patted her head saying: "Stella, this painting is my life's work..."
Now that he was gone and his wife cried daily, if she could win this painting, it would surely comfort the grieving woman.
"Five million." She raised her paddle without hesitation.
"Chase..." Sophia suddenly tugged his sleeve. "This painting is so beautiful."
Chase immediately raised his paddle: "Ten million."
Stella gritted her teeth: "Twenty million."
"Thirty million."
The price kept climbing. The entire auction house fell silent while Stella noticed Marcus, Preston, and Damien quietly lowering their paddles—because Sophia was staring longingly at the painting.
How ironic.
Just ten minutes ago they'd sworn: "Whatever Stella wants, we'll buy it for you."
Her nails dug into her palms as she raised her paddle again: "Fifty million."
"Eighty million."
"One hundred million."
Finally, Chase went completely overboard!
As he got up to swipe his card, his long legs striding across the red carpet, he didn't spare even a peripheral glance at Stella's pale face.
"Stella, don't be sad," Marcus quickly consoled her. "If you really love this painting, I'll check backstage right now for something similar to bid on..."
"Me too!" Preston immediately chimed in.
"Count me in!" Damien followed suit.
As their hasty retreating figures blurred in Stella's vision, she took a deep breath, forced down the bitter feeling in her chest, and walked straight toward Sophia, who was being surrounded like a star.
"Name your price for this painting," Stella's voice was terrifyingly calm. "Five times, ten times, twenty times—whatever."
Sophia laughed lightly, a flash of smugness in her eyes: "So the heiress begs people too?"
She tilted her head with fake innocence: "But money can't buy everything. I don't really wanna sell right now, but if you REALLY want it..." She blinked. "Get on your knees and beg me."
Stella's breathing hitched slightly.
This face always acted helpless around men but turned vicious with her.
This was exactly why she'd never liked Sophia, past or present.
She still couldn't understand what those four men saw in her.
Stella clenched her fists: "I said money's no object."
"But I wanna see you kneel," Sophia smiled sweetly. "Otherwise…"
Stella's gaze fell on the painting casually held in Sophia's hands.
It was her mentor's final work, something his wife desperately missed. Thinking of the old woman's tear-stained face, Stella's heart felt crushed by an invisible hand.
"Fine, I'll kneel!"
Finally, she slowly dropped to her knees before everyone's eyes.
The cold marble floor sent bone-deep chill through her thin dress, but it was nothing compared to her inner pain.
Standing up, Stella's voice was deadly calm: "Can you give it to me now?"
But Sophia suddenly smiled—a smile filled with chilling malice.
Right in front of Stella, she gripped both ends of the frame—
"RIP!"
The sound of canvas tearing echoed harshly through the silent auction hall.
"You!" Fury exploded in Stella's head as she slapped Sophia hard across the face.
"Stella!" Chase's voice boomed like thunder. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Chase..." Sophia covered her cheek, tears appearing instantly. "Don't blame Miss Whitmore. It's all my fault for coming to the auction with you..."
Her delicate fingers clutched Chase's sleeve, her voice perfectly choked: "Miss Whitmore likes you, so seeing you buy me all these things made her angry. That's totally normal."
"I know my existence makes things awkward for you both..." Sophia suddenly pushed Chase away, stumbling backward. "If that's the case, then let me just disappear forever!"
With that, she spun toward the floor-to-ceiling window at lightning speed.
"Sophia!"
Chase's anguished roar filled the auction hall, but it was too late—
"CRASH!"
Glass shattered as a heavy thud echoed from below, the sounds amplifying endlessly in Stella's ears.
She rushed to the window to see Sophia lying in a pool of blood like a broken butterfly, yet her lips curved in a triumphant smile.
Chase completely lost it.
He cradled the bloody Sophia in his arms, his voice hoarse with rage: "Get her to the hospital! NOW!"
He stared at Stella with murder in his eyes: "Stella, you better pray to God that Sophia's okay. Otherwise, I'll make you pay with your life!"
Under the hospital's harsh fluorescent lights, time seemed frozen.
A doctor rushed over, panic in his voice: "The patient's hemorrhaging badly and needs a transfusion. But she has Rh-negative blood and our supply is critically low..."
Chase whipped around, his gaze cutting into Stella like a blade: "You're Rh-negative too."
"No..." Sophia weakly opened her eyes from the hospital bed. "It's all my fault. Miss Whitmore is anemic—please don't make her give me blood..."
"Even now you're worried about her, Sophia. You're too kind." Chase immediately took her hand, his voice impossibly gentle, like soothing a frightened child. But when he turned to Stella, his eyes were arctic ice: "Tie her down!"
"Chase, you wouldn't dare!"
"Watch me!"
Stella was roughly shoved onto an operating table, the cold metal surface against her back.
She fought desperately, her legs kicking over the instrument tray, medical tools clattering across the floor.
"Hold her down!" Chase barked.
Three or four bodyguards swarmed her, pinning down her limbs.
Stella's hair was disheveled, her dress torn in the struggle, exposing her pale shoulders.
"Chase!" She screamed his name with unprecedented desperation. "You're gonna regret this..."
"You're the one who should regret," Chase sneered, personally inserting the needle into her vein.
Blood flowed through the tubes as Stella's consciousness began to fade.
In her daze, she felt transported back to that rainy night in her past life—blinding headlights, screaming brakes, and across the street, the cold stares of Chase and the others.
Only Ryder Blackthorne had stumbled through the rain to hold her mangled body.
"Ryder..." Stella's tears mixed with blood, blooming like crimson flowers on the operating table. "When are you coming back... I miss you so much..."
Her voice grew weaker until it vanished into the cold air.
End of Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival! Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Reborn? Screw the Fake Lover—I'm Snagging My Arch-Rival! book page.