Done With My Ex, Moving To The Next

Chapter 46: While The Cat Is Away

Chapter 46: While The Cat Is Away

STELLA

I shut the door behind me as I walked into Mrs. Beaumont's office.

My period had ended yesterday, and as animalistic as I might have sounded when I sent him out of the guesthouse, I felt zero remorse.

I was starting again this time. Really DONE with everything that had ties with him.

“Hello, Miss Stella. It's nice to see you." Her smile boldened the smile lines on her face. She'd always chosen to address me formally, since the year I turned 20.

Even though Mrs. Beaumont was a distant relative of my mother, she'd never been on good terms with my mother and her husband, my dad.

"Thank you so much. I left my house as soon as I got your text, ma'am,” I smiled, settling down in the chair she offered.

“Your documents have been reviewed, but a few confirmations need to be done before we proceed." She flipped a few pages of the documents.

“Um… most importantly, the name." She smiled, and I could tell she hoped it wouldn't offend me.

“Valerializ.” She pronounced the word, and it smoothened on her tongue. Just how I'd envisioned it, printed on my pieces.

“Valeria Raliz," I said it in full, making sure I was as polite as I could be.

“Named after someone important?" One of her brows lifted slightly.

“Very. My late best friend.”

She nodded. I couldn't tell if she was actually impressed or just sympathizing.

“In five days, I'll be marking her third year of being ‘late’," I said with a small smile. I'd always talk about Valerie—at every damn chance I got. I would never hesitate.

“Oh! I'm so sorry about that." She leaned forward to brush my shoulder lightly.

Since Valerie's passing, Mrs. Beaumont was the first person I'd ever told about her death.

I'd never mentioned it to anyone.

“I must say," she sighed, like she was reconsidering her chances of not being misinterpreted—or so I thought.

“You're aiming for quite… a global scale.” Her lips pursed as she adjusted her glasses by pushing them backward with her index finger.

I could see doubt flickering in her eyes while I pretended to be clueless about the point she was driving at.

I knew I'd definitely answer questions like this.

Aside from Mrs. Beaumont having to follow due company registration procedures, she was a shitty-cute, talkative person, and in the past years of knowing her, she'd always been this person.

“Yes. A global scale, at that." A surge of warmth filled my chest.

“Global?" She adjusted, her tone laced with disbelief.

“That's going to cost a lot… you know,” she laughed nervously, but I didn't move a finger. I knew she wasn't being mean.

She was just being considerate and realistic.

I let her finish before I gave the basic answers to feed her curiosity.

"I have…" I paused back on saying what I'd intended. So I settled for the word that felt right enough.

“Plans, Mrs. Beaumont."

“I understand you, Miss Stella, but do you have any major funding yet?"

"Not yet. Potential investors will come when there is quality.” It was as simple as that.

I didn't need the whole time in the world to explain that point to her.

“That’s all there is to review. I wish you good luck, Stella.” She smiled, wide enough that her eyes folded.

“Thank you so much. When will our IPO commence?” I asked, my tone polite but curious, my face shaping into a little frown.

Mrs. Beaumont chuckled softly. “IPO? Oh, we’re… quite far from that. That comes much later—once your company has traction, investors, and solid financial statements. Right now, our job is to get you registered properly, legally, and with a name that won’t get you flagged by the authorities.”

I nodded, pretending to understand the layers of bureaucracy she was hinting at.

In reality, IPOs were just a future dream, a spark I’d fan into flames later.

“Mrs. Beaumont, will I need a full team for this registration?” I asked, leaning slightly forward.

“Not necessarily. For now, it’s mostly paperwork. Later, when you scale… yes, then a team, accountants, maybe a legal advisor—people to help you leap. But that’s all after registration.” She smiled, clearly trying to manage my ambitious energy.

I exhaled slowly. That was fine. One step at a time. Right now, I just need the legal name to be official.

“And investors,” she added casually, “don’t stress about them yet. They’ll come when they see your name and your plan in action. It’s all about perception at this stage.

I smiled inwardly. Perfect. I could keep this secret from everyone else for now—including him.

No one knew I was planning a full-scale company launch in London, not even him.

And with that, I was heading out of her office, my mind already racing ahead.

Investors, IPOs, global plans—it all felt deliciously close, and I’d make sure no one—including him—ever knew the full extent until I was ready to reveal it.

I was leaving the office already; the door opened halfway for me to step out.

She called from behind. “Stella… how's Rebecca faring?”

For a second, I almost asked who she was referring to, but her glaring eyes reminded me almost immediately.

"Um…" I couldn't find the words.

True. I hadn't talked to my baby sister in a long time… a really long while.

I paused, waiting for a hint. I couldn't bring myself to ask what she meant—I couldn't avoid the inner embarrassment that flushed through me right there.

“She's… fine.” Even though I hadn't heard from Rebecca, it sounded like a lie. What if she wasn't?

What if she was somewhere, struggling to keep a smile on her face?

Mrs. Beaumont, who'd been our distant relative while growing up, was more concerned about Rebecca than I was.

“Are you sure she is?" Her question made my heart race. My chest pounded.

“Thank you, ma'am. I'll get back to you if anything." I stepped out as if I was being sent out. My chest tightened as I kept walking down the hallway.

One step. Two. Three.

I kept laying one foot in front of the other rapidly.

I didn't care about looking as I kept dashing till I bumped into someone.

“I'm so, so, so sorry!" My senses activated right at that instant. I'd been striding out of Mrs. Beaumont's office like a zombie.

I drew out the little face towel in my bag to dab his expensive-looking shirt.

I'd spilled coffee on his shirt.

“I'm sorry, sir. It was an accident," I apologized, but he said nothing.

He was extraordinarily calm, and it gave me chills.

“It's fine.” He had a rough Italian accent and looked almost unreal, with sharp and striking facial features.

Now, that was flirty.

I succeeded in hiding my facial expression, but my heart skipped.

“I am so sorry about the coffee. I can pay for—”

He paused, and my heart raced, waiting for the worst—to probably hear a bank-wrecking price attached to the shirt.

"Save it. How about we meet again?" He winked, extending something like a business card to me.

I wasn't hypnotized, but I wasn't in my right senses either. I took the card. I took the freaking card from him.

“I'm Alessio. What's yours?" He stretched his hand forward for a handshake, a smirky smile on his moist lips.

“Stella… Stella Rosa Scott.” I took his hand without hesitation.

Alessio’s gaze lingered a moment longer than polite, and I felt the tiniest shiver run down my spine.

His presence was… electric, dangerously electric, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted—not today.

“Rosa… a beautiful name,” he said smoothly, letting go of my hand but keeping eye contact.

“London or just visiting?”

“London,” I replied quickly, keeping my tone clipped. My mind was still buzzing from the meeting.

Investors, IPOs, Valerializ—it all demanded my focus. I couldn’t afford to stumble for him, even if the way he looked at me made my chest betray me.

He smiled again, that damn smirk curling just right

“Perhaps fate has a sense of timing,” he said, tapping his own chest lightly.

“Coffee spills… chance meetings… maybe we’re meant to talk.

I swallowed. I wanted to laugh at how cliché he sounded, but the low timbre of his voice made it impossible.

“Maybe,” I said carefully, sliding the card into my pocket. “I have… plans, though. Busy plans.”

“Plans are good,” he leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling.

“Ambitious women… I like them. Tell you what, I’ll make it worth your while—coffee, lunch, whatever. You name it.”

I paused, the tiniest corner of my mind whispering don’t, but another part—a daring, reckless part—was curious. So curious.

“Fine,” I said at last, just barely audible, “but… just business.” My lips curved into a controlled smile, though my heart betrayed me with a flutter.

He straightened, nodding, the smirk never leaving. “Business it is… for now.”

And as he walked away, I couldn’t help but glance at the card again.

Alessio. Sharp, Italian, dangerous…

Nothing was going wrong, right?