Neville muttered under his breath, “Matthew, you might have a wandering eye, but Stella doesn’t. She’s completely devoted to you.”
The comment earned him a sharp glare from Matthew, and he promptly fell silent.
Sensing the tension, Cordell stepped in to diffuse it. “Could this be a misunderstanding? They say seeing is believing, but sometimes we misinterpret what we see. If there’s confusion, it’s better to talk it out face-to-face instead of overthinking.”
Neville quickly chimed in, nodding. “Exactly. Cordell’s got a point. And if you’re too proud to ask outright, I’ve got an idea.”
Grinning mischievously, Neville continued, “Why not play tipsy when you get home? Sweet-talk Stella a little. For all you know, there’s no conflict at all.”
Matthew scoffed at the suggestion, a disdainful smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not doing something that ridiculous.”
At Prosper Bay, after Stella returned home, she didn’t take a moment to rest. Instead, she retrieved the recording device Emery had given her and began playing its contents.
The sound quality was faint, accompanied by background noise, but she could still discern the voices of two men.
One of them spoke with a low, conspiratorial tone. “You tamper with that chandelier, and I’ll give you a hundred thousand once it’s done.”
Stella’s heart skipped a beat. Shocked by what she heard, she recalled the details Dexter had uncovered. Piecing the clues together, she suspected one of the voices belonged to Robin, while the other was likely that of the deceased temporary worker.
Just as she began connecting the dots, the sudden chime of the doorbell broke her concentration.
Frowning, Stella rose to answer the door.
The moment it opened, she was met with the sight of Neville, supporting a heavily intoxicated Matthew at the threshold.
The pungent scent of alcohol hit her instantly, making her wrinkle her nose in distaste. Thinking of Matthew’s health condition, she couldn’t help but mutter, “Why did he drink so much?”
Neville gave a helpless shrug. “Probably something on his mind.”
Without another word, he pushed Matthew toward her. “Stella, I’m leaving him with you tonight. He’s not in his right mind, so don’t take anything he says too seriously. If he offends you, just let it go, alright?”
Before Stella could respond, Neville slipped away, leaving her standing there, half supporting Matthew and fully exasperated.
With great effort, Stella helped Matthew into the house and carefully eased him onto the sofa. Looking at his disheveled state, she sighed, thinking to herself that it must be something about Lindsay that had driven him to drink this much.
Stella spun around and went to the bathroom, her footsteps echoing softly as she fetched a damp towel. Returning to the dimly lit living room, she knelt by the sofa and gently wiped Matthew’s face.
Her voice was laced with concern as she murmured, “I’ve never seen you drown your sorrows like this. What’s eating at you? Surely, this minor setback isn’t worth the havoc it’s wreaking on your health. Can’t you take better care of yourself?”
Her focus shifted to his hands, meticulously cleaning them, unaware of the subtle flutter of his eyelids.
Once she was done, Stella planned to let Matthew rest on the plush sofa while she retrieved a cozy blanket to tuck around him.
But the moment she stood up, he caught her wrist and drew her into a tight embrace.
Stella paused, caught off guard, and then realizing the situation, she attempted to pull away, insisting, “You’re drunk. Release me. I need to stand.”