The War.

Chapter 22: Dinner.

TW MENTIONS OF ABUSE AND R*GER

Stella sat in her office, her fingers drumming impatiently on her desk, her expression twisted in irritation. She was always angry, but today was worse. Roger was supposed to show up any minute, and he had a talent for making her mood even worse — a hundred times worse. She silently prayed Siobhan would come instead. Stella liked Siobhan. Not romantically, of course — Stella didn't believe in love. But there was something about Siobhan that intrigued her. She could see through the cracks of her façade, sense the unhappiness in her marriage to Roger, and something deeper — a hint of abuse that Siobhan hid well but not well enough. Nothing could get past Stella, she was great at reading people and situations. Stella wanted to know more, to understand what Siobhan was really running from.

Just then, she heard a knock on the door. "Come in, Roger," she commanded, her voice dripping with irritation. Instead, Siobhan walked in, a look of apprehension on her face.

"Sorry, it isn't Roger. He was... busy," Siobhan mumbled, closing the door behind her with a soft click. Stella's face brightened slightly as she let out a sigh of relief, feeling a wave of gratitude.

"I did not want to see Roger today," she said, her voice softening. "How are you doing, Siobhan?" she asked, her tone genuine.

"I'm... fine," Siobhan mumbled, her voice wavering.

Little did she know, Stella's telepathic abilities were already picking up on the discord between her words and her true feelings.

"Here's those files," Siobhan said, trying to place them on Stella's desk. As she did, she winced in pain. "Ow!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in discomfort. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry," she mumbled, her voice shaking.

Stella's gaze shifted to the bruise on Siobhan's wrist. She picked up the files and threw them down on her desk. "How'd you get that?" she asked, her concern clear.

"I... hurt it while training," Siobhan said through gritted teeth, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Why doesn't it have a cast?" Stella inquired, her tone laced with skepticism.

"Oh, uh... Roger and I are going to try and find one," Siobhan responded quickly, her anxiety evident. "And that's actually why—unless you have something else to say—I need to go so we can get one."

"Is Roger coming to pick you up?" Stella asked, her tone sharp.

"Yes," Siobhan answered quickly, her eyes darting toward the door. "And I need to get going."

"Stop," Stella said, her voice firm and commanding. Siobhan froze, her body tensing as she slowly turned back. "I need to have a chat with Roger. So you'll be waiting here."

"I... I really can't... uh..." Siobhan stammered, her anxiety palpable as she shifted uncomfortably.

"Stay right there," Stella said decisively. She then waved over a worker, her eyes never leaving Siobhan's troubled face. "Call Roger," Stella instructed, her concern growing as she noted the bruise on Siobhan's wrist and the fear in her eyes.

Stella had known about Roger's abusive tendencies for a long time; it was evident in his demeanor and the way he spoke about his family. Stella had also learned about his abuse towards his children, deepening her disdain for him. As she waited for Roger to arrive, she kept a close eye on Siobhan.

Stella's concern for Siobhan was clear, and she instructed one of her workers to bring an ice pack for Siobhan's bruised wrist. She made sure Siobhan was as comfortable as possible, her eyes occasionally flicking toward the door, anticipating Roger's arrival with a mix of impatience and resolve.