After 6 years Stella was now 28, she was walking in the hall waiting for those 2 to come. The bell rang and Stella rushed to the door and Blake and Rocco entered the house.
"You said you need to meet us urgently" said Blake, as he removed his coat and sat on the couch.
Stella went to the bedroom and brought her laptop out, placing it in front of them.
"There is another Simon Winchester?" said Stella, frowning her eyebrows in disbelief.
Rocco and Blake exchanged glances, and Stella who noticed this looked at them in disbelief.
"You knew," she said bitterly.
"There are totally 5 Simon Winchester's in our country, you know" said Rocco and Stella glared at him.
"Yeah but they do not have the same face" said Stella
Rocco sighed,
"We went to him, to talk to him, like 2 months ago, he didnt even remember us Stels, and I bet that is not Simon" said Blake.
After six years, Stella—now twenty-eight—paced the hall, her fingers tapping anxiously against her arm as she waited. The moment the doorbell rang, she rushed to open it. Blake and Rocco stepped inside, shaking off the cold as they entered.
"You said it was urgent," Blake said, shrugging off his coat and sinking onto the couch.
Stella didn't respond. Instead, she disappeared into her bedroom and returned with her laptop, placing it in front of them. She tapped a few keys, then turned the screen toward them.
"There's… another Simon Winchester?" she asked, her brows furrowing in disbelief.
Rocco and Blake exchanged uneasy glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
Stella's stomach twisted. She knew that look.
"You knew," she said, her voice laced with quiet betrayal.
Rocco exhaled, leaning back. "Stella, there are five Simon Winchesters in this country."
She shot him a glare. "Yeah, but they don't all have the same face."
Blake rubbed his jaw, choosing his words carefully. "We found him, Stels. We talked to him two months ago. He didn't even recognize us."
He hesitated, then added, "I don't think that's Simon."
"He must have lost his memory," Stella said, refusing to accept their words.
Rocco let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Stels, an explosion can cause trauma, third-degree burns—hell, even death. But memory loss? That's a stretch." He pulled out his phone and swiped through a series of photos before turning the screen toward her. "Look at these. Not a single burn on him."
Stella stared at the images, her grip tightening on the laptop.
"He's gone, Stella," Blake said gently. "Please… accept it."
She inhaled sharply, her jaw clenching. Then, after a moment, she murmured, "Then what about this guy?"
"Ignore him. It's just a coincidence," Rocco said with a shrug. "They say people can have doppelgängers, right?"
Stella wasn't convinced. "Or it could be dark magic."
"Tried that too." Rocco leaned against the table. "He's human, Stella. No traces of magic, no supernatural ties. He's clean."
Maybe he is a different person, she thought. But deep down, doubt gnawed at her.
Blake's phone pinged, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen before pushing himself up. "I have to go—gotta pick up Naomi and Bella."
At the mention of Bella, Stella's expression softened. Blake and Naomi had married four years ago, and three years ago, they had welcomed Bella into their lives. A little girl so loved, she had become the heart of their circle.
"Fine, go," Stella said, waving him off.
As Blake stepped out, Rocco moved to follow, but Stella blocked his path, arms crossed.
"You're not going anywhere," she said, eyes sharp. "Not until you give me the access code to the black market. I've been begging you for the last two years."
Rocco groaned, rubbing his temple before scribbling something on a piece of paper. "You're impossible."
Stella smirked, snatching the note from his hand as he walked out.
"Rocco," she called, stopping him in his tracks. He exhaled sharply before turning back to face her.
"It can't just be a coincidence," she said, shaking her head, her grip tightening around the note. "Same face. Same name. But the CEO of the same company? The dots don't connect."
Rocco leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. He had heard this before—Stella's refusal to let go, the endless searching, the desperate hope clinging to her voice like a ghost of the past.
"The guy got in through nepotism," he said, his voice edged with exhaustion. "Everyone knows it. Since the real Simon Winchester is dead, they put this guy in his place."
"Nobody knew that Simon was the CEO and founder of Black Stone," Rocco said, his voice firm yet weary. "Except his secretary... and you. And now this Simon—the new Simon—is parading around like he owns the world."
He scoffed. "He doesn't hide. He wants to be known."
Stella remained silent, her expression unreadable, but her grip on the note tightened.
"Blake and I spoke to the secretary," Rocco continued. "The guy confirmed it himself—that man isn't Simon."
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer. "Please, Stella," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "There are no loose ends this time. No more illusions. Let it go."
Before she could respond, he pulled her into a brief but firm hug, as if trying to physically anchor her back to reality. Then, without another word, he left.
Stella remained still, staring down at the note in her hands.
This will prove whether this Simon was really her husband or not.
The next day, Stella stood in front of the mirror, her reflection barely recognizable beneath layers of dark clothing. A black mask concealed her face, leaving only her sharp eyes visible. Satisfied, she grabbed her keys and slipped out the door.
She drove through the city, her hands gripping the wheel tightly as anticipation coiled in her chest. When she finally arrived at the given address, her brows furrowed in confusion.
A toy shop?
This better not be a prank, thought Stella, her jaw tightening.
Her fingers twitched as she stepped out of the car, glancing around to ensure she wasn't being watched. Pushing open the door, she was met with shelves of stuffed animals and miniature train sets, an unsettling contrast to the purpose of her visit.
Taking a slow breath, she approached the counter. The man behind it barely spared her a glance as he arranged a row of porcelain dolls.
Steeling herself, Stella leaned in and spoke the words she was given.
"I want the grayish-black elephant from Africa, which is being sold unanimously, for my niece," Stella said, her voice steady, betraying none of the tension coiled inside her.
The man behind the counter finally looked up, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe. He studied her for a moment, then, without a word, reached under the counter and pulled out a simple black bracelet.
"Follow me," he said.
Stella wordlessly obeyed, trailing behind him as he led her through a narrow hallway at the back of the shop. The air grew colder, the soft chime of the toy shop's music fading as the walls seemed to close in around them.
He stopped in front of a thick steel door, tapping a sequence of numbers into a hidden keypad. The lock clicked, and he turned to face her, holding out the bracelet.
"Only one hour," he warned, slipping it onto her wrist before scribbling her name onto a list.
Stella nodded, her heart pounding as the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit passageway leading downward. Without hesitation, she stepped through, the door slamming shut behind her.
The black market. A place no outsider could enter.
And she was in.