The Ex-Wife's Burning Elegance novel Chapter 1190

Stella immediately noticed something was off and leaned in, concern etched across her face. “Joshua, are you alright?”

He rubbed his aching temples, his voice barely above a whisper. “...It’s nothing. Just a headache, that’s all.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? You really don’t look well.”

Joshua gave a faint nod, but the pallor of his skin was alarming—he looked more fragile than she’d ever seen him, even after the car accident. Now, he seemed as though the slightest touch might break him.

He met her gaze, his eyes serious. “Everything that happened today was my fault. There were a lot of witnesses who saw me start the fight. If you hand me over, Gibson won’t give you too much trouble.”

Stella’s brows knit together. “Joshua, what are you saying?”

He cut her off gently. “Star, let me finish.”

He held her in a steady, unwavering stare.

“You’re the Williams family’s heiress. You didn’t lay a hand on anyone yourself, so Gibson wouldn’t dare do anything to you. But if you keep standing by me, you’ll be dragged into all sorts of trouble. Gibson won’t let me off the hook—he’ll hunt me down, and you’ll be caught up in it too. I can take care of myself. Once you’re safely out of the country, I’ll find a way to disappear.”

Stella’s frown deepened. “And if I did hand you over to Gibson, what if they kill you right in front of me?”

He shook his head. “They won’t. I killed his son. There’s no way he’ll let me off that easily.”

She pressed, “That’s a risk I can’t take. There’s every chance they will. I can’t gamble with your life.”

Was this what people meant by being hopelessly sentimental?

Night settled quickly, the darkness swallowing the last traces of twilight. Stella led Joshua to the place Katrina had told them about. It took a while, searching through side streets and alleyways before they found a run-down motel—if it could even be called that. The place was barely standing, its exterior battered by time, the kind of building that looked like it hadn’t seen an upgrade since the seventies.

Power lines tangled overhead, a chaotic web silhouetted against the cloudy sky. Inside, the owner—a middle-aged woman—was arguing loudly into her phone, barely glancing at them as they entered. Her accent was thick, her words tumbling out so quickly that Stella could only catch fragments of the conversation.

It was the rainy season here, and the weather had been grim all day—steady drizzle, gray skies, and the kind of damp chill that seeped straight through your bones. The temperature had dropped to just above freezing, and while Germany rarely saw snow in winter, the cold had a way of biting deeper than any frost.

Especially on nights like this, when the rain made everything feel colder, heavier.

Stella had grown up in Neo-Vespera, a city with four distinct seasons and crisp, dry air. Even Solmaris, where she’d spent years, was much the same. She’d never found the climate difficult, not until now.