Chapter 61 - Stella
Stella
Elaine and I walk into the house, the air thick with an awkward heaviness that settles in my chest before I even take a breath.
Blythe is curled in my father’s favorite chair, feeding Sage, her movements careful, deliberate, as if rocking her can rock the tension out of the room.
Ansel paces restlessly across the carpet, chewing on her lip, shoulders tight like she’s bracing for a storm.
Mac leans against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes locking onto mine the second I step inside.
He doesn’t blink. He’s searching me, hunting for something in my expression that I will never give away.
Elaine breaks first, her voice slicing through the silence with practiced ease. “Who died? Why do you all look so glum?” She strides across the room and drops onto the couch like it belongs to her, her confidence filling the space the way smoke clings to curtains.
Mac clears his throat, shifting his weight like the words are heavy on his tongue.
“I spoke with Donovan’s dad.” His voice is low, careful, the kind of tone people use when they know what they’re saying doesn’t sound real even to them.
“He said Donovan called him. He said he was leaving. Going to Buenos Aires, starting over.”
The words hang there, absurd and perfect all at once.
Ansel barks out a laugh, sharp and humorless.
“So that’s it? Did he just vanish to South America without a goodbye?
That’s his big exit strategy?” She throws her hands up, pacing faster now.
“Whatever. Arrivederci. Go be a cheating bastard somewhere else.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she swallows it down like it burns.
Blythe glances at me, her hand still rocking Sage, who stirs against her chest. Her eyes are soft but searching, and for a moment I almost look away.
But I don’t. My face stays smooth, unbroken.
Inside, the fire still lingers, alive and thrumming.
Donovan didn’t leave for Buenos Aires. Donovan didn’t leave at all.
Elaine leans back on the couch, unbothered, her presence unshaken. Our truth isn’t for them. It never will be.
“Good for him,” I say, my voice steady, even. “I hope he finds the peace he’s been chasing.”
The room stills as I cross it without hesitation.
Every step feels deliberate, heavy with choice.
Elaine’s eyes never leave mine. When I reach her, she pulls me into her lap as if she’s been waiting for me all along.
Her lips brush my neck, soft and sure, claiming me.
A hush stretches through the room, broken only by the sound of Sage fussing against Blythe’s shoulder.
Mac exhales sharply and pushes off the wall, leaving without another word.
His footsteps are clipped and brisk. Ansel follows, still muttering under her breath, until their voices dissolve into the familiar bickering down the hall.
Blythe stays, humming low and sweet to soothe Sage back to calm, her gaze drifting toward us, unreadable but not unkind.
The house feels different now—quieter, heavier, but mine. The lies, the silence, the fire still smoldering inside me… all of it locked away where no one will ever touch it. Donovan is gone.
I look at the faces that remain—Elaine, warm and steady beneath me; Blythe, rocking her child with quiet strength; and Ansel, loud and restless even when she’s out of the room—the ones I love more than anything.
For the first time, I understand. My life was built on a pile of lies, yes, but not out of cruelty.
My parents lied to protect what was theirs. To protect me.
Now it’s my turn.
As the last Carrington, I will do the same. I’ll burn down the world if I have to. Fire, ash, and silence—that's the legacy. And it’s mine to keep.