(21
Nate smiled and nodded. He didn’t need her to say it–he had already made up his mind. Stacy’s trust in him, her willingness to tell him the truth, felt like a gift he would always cherish.
Just then, Tara entered with a tray of food. Though she didn’t want to interrupt, she couldn’t help but share the good news “Stacy, I just got word–your team has safely returned to America, and your research results have been
highly praised Areward is definitely in your future”
Hearing that everyone was safe Sucy finally felt the weight she’d carried these past few days lift. Her heart
setted and she couldn’t wait to meet them in person.
The team’s return was met with a grand celebration. Mr. Morgan, a Hamilton native, was welcomed back with a lavish banquet in his honor. A renowned figure in the academic world. Mr. Morgan’s event attracted celebrities and dignitaries from various fields
Stacy reluctant to revisit a place filled with painful memories hesitated to attend. But when she returned to her hometown, she realized that the place that had once brought her suffering had also taught her invaluable lessons
She chose not to run anymore. The real freedom came from facing her past with courage. When she locked her eyes with a familiar face at the banquet fear no longer held power over her
Pat having caught wind of Mr. Morgan’s return, pulled every string he could to secure an invitation. When he saw Stacy, an unfamiliar stir fickered in his heart
*Stacy?
Her gaze ficked to him briefly cool and detached, before she turned back to the academic leaders she was conversing with. Tara standing nearby had shed her former arrogance, now wearing a plain white dress and a face filled with genuine panic Stacy didn’t acknowledge her, not even a glance.
Among the crowd, Stacy’s fair complexion stood out Pat, who had stared at that face for five years, knew he wasn’t mistaken. Yet her indifference cut deep–she treated him as though he were a stranger, as though the past they shared had never existed
Pat’s mind raced. Was this the same person he remembered, or had time altered even his memories? As the nostalgic image in his mind faded, frustration grew
He grabbed Tara’s wrist, his voice low and urgent. “Didn’t you say you had a way to confirm it? Tell me–is she,
Stacy?”
Tara froze, her strength draining. Her voice was faint, trembling. “She’s not Stacy.”
Stacy stood across the room, glowing with confidence and grace, a stark contrast to the shadowed figure Pat remembered. The hall seemed to revolve around her presence, as if every guest had gathered just for her.
*Liar! She has to be Stacy!” Pat’s anger boiled over at the response he hadn’t wanted to hear.
The room was filled with scholars and writers, and the quiet ambiance was punctuated by the soft, melodic notes of a violin and piano concerto. Pat’s raised voice disrupted the harmony, drawing curious glances from every
corner.
Dragging Tara to the side of the stage, he pulled off the Rolex from his wrist and tossed it to the violinist. Snatching the instrument, he thrust it into Tara’s hands
*Play it Now!”
Tara’s head spun at his absurd demand. She wanted to protest but didn’t dare–her fear of returning to her father’s toxic grip outweighed her pride. With shaking hands, she complied
The first notes were hesitant and clumsy, a discordant echo in the elegant hall. Though unskilled, the tune was recognizable to those familiar with it. Stacy, who knew the piece by heart, couldn’t help but glance at the stage.
Her composure wavered, a flicker of emotion betraying her calm façade. Tara’s teary eyes mirrored the insults she had endured–insults that had once been Stacy’s burden too.
Pat’s maniacal grin betrayed his satisfaction Stacy’s heart sank. She felt the weight of the situation pressing on her chest, and she lowered her gaze, unwilling to engage with the spectacle unfolding before her.
The senior colleague beside her noticed her unease. “Macey, are you all right? You don’t look well.”
Stacy forced a emila but the basıpace in harl
10:12 AM
Living My laster’s Life for Revenge
