đź“• Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell by Michael Tretter
“Stella once savored Marc’s devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc’s empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, “”Out of your league, darling.”
Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell Chapter 1 That Chance Would Never Come
A message lit up Stella Russell’s phone, and along with it came a bunch of photos. Clothes scattered carelessly, two people holding each other tightly, messy bedsheets, and a hazy reflection in a fogged-up mirror…
Stella had seen this kind of thing before. This wasn’t new to her.
One look at the big hand holding that woman’s wrist, and Stella knew it was Marc’s. Her husband. The same man she’d been married to for four years.
Then her eyes caught the date on the pictures, and her stomach sank. It was the same day as their wedding anniversary.
Marc had promised they’d spend the evening together, but he’d vanished for three days. All she got was a message from his assistant, saying he had some urgent business to handle.
“Urgent, huh?” Stella let out a cold chuckle. Clearly urgent—in someone else’s bed. She then closed the message and called someone from her contact list.
The person picked up almost immediately.
“Stella,” came the voice on the other end.
“I’ve made my decision about the classified research project,” she said calmly.
“Who’s the candidate?” they asked.
“Me.”
A heavy silence stretched on the other end of the line, and then came a sharp, unwavering voice. “Don’t joke around, Stella. You know what this means! Once you’re in the classified research project, there’s no turning back. No outside contact, no personal ties. You’ll be officially listed as missing, and everything about your past will be wiped clean. A new identity will be created for you. So ask yourself—are you really ready to walk away from your family? From Marc?”
Stella’s eyes fell on the framed wedding photo hanging nearby.
The smiles in it once made her feel warm, but now they just made her heart ache.
Marc’s promises, which used to sound sweet, now felt cold and empty.
“I’ve made my decision,” she said quietly. “I’ll come by tomorrow to fill out the forms.”
She ended the call before the person on the other end could say anything else. She didn’t want to hear more. Her mind was already made up.
At that moment, a car pulled up outside. Moments later, Marc Walsh walked in, tall as ever, loosening his black tie while heading straight for the bathroom.
His jacket, tossed lazily on the hook, still carried the suggestive scent of FIRE2, the latest women’s perfume of brand Vlexoot. Bold, heated—everything she apparently wasn’t anymore.
Marc came out minutes later, dripping from a fast shower, wearing a gray bathrobe.
The robe hung loosely, showing off his chest and abs. Damp hair fell around his face, and the steam only made him look colder. Sharper.
Being the heir to the powerful Walsh family, Marc had everything—looks, status, and money.
Once, she’d been drawn to all of that. Now, it only made her sick.
“What’s with that look?” Marc chuckled, sliding an arm around her waist, his voice low and teasing. “Miss me, babe?”
His hand slid down her side, but his touch made her skin crawl. She quickly pulled away.
Marc’s hand stopped mid-move, his eyebrows knitting together. “What’s going on? Are you mad at me?”
Stella took a breath, steadying herself. She wasn’t going to waste energy on another fight.
Pushing down the ache in her heart, she leaned over and picked up a locked box from the drawer, handing it to him. “Here. A gift.”
Inside? The divorce papers she’d already signed. Her final present. “You’ll have to guess the password to open it,” she said flatly.
Marc gave it a lazy look, thinking it was just another one of her odd little games, and tossed it onto the table. Then he pulled her close again, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’re the only gift I want.”
Stella stiffened without meaning to. Marc noticed and gave a low chuckle.
“Still pouting because I missed our anniversary? Work’s been nuts,” he said while brushing a kiss on her cheek.
Then he let go, pulled a small box from his coat, and handed it to her.
“Do you like it?”
Inside was a hairpin—delicate and gold-plated, clearly custom-made with careful detail.
“I got this made just for you. You’ve always liked things like this, haven’t you? Try it on.”
His voice held that familiar mix of control and affection.
That tone had once been enough to melt her resolve.
People in Choria all believed Marc doted on his wife.
Stella had believed it as well.
If it weren’t for the photos saved in her phone, she might’ve really been touched by the gift.
The girl in the pictures was in her twenties, pretty and confident, with flirtatious eyes and long, wavy hair pinned up using the same hairpin that now lay in front of Stella. The loose style revealed her smooth neck—marked with hickeys.
“There’s only one like it in the world. You like it, don’t you?” Marc gently lifted her hair, his rough fingers brushing against her skin in a way that was both familiar and far too intimate.
Stella’s patience was wearing down fast—she nearly stabbed the damn thing straight into his chest.
She looked up at him, her eyes colder than usual. “The only one in the world, huh?”
Something about her felt off. Marc felt it in his gut. But the moment she smiled, that familiar softness returning, his doubt disappeared.
“If it’s truly one of a kind, then yes, I love it.” Stella calmly closed the box. “I’ve got work to do tonight. You go ahead and sleep.”
She stepped out of his arms, holding the box tightly, not sparing him a single glance.
A cool draft slipped into his open robe, and for some reason, it left Marc feeling strangely hollow.
Tonight, she seemed colder than usual.
He glanced at the locked box on the table, and a strange calm returned to him.
After all, no one understood Stella’s feelings better than he did. She loved him deeply… so deeply that no matter what he did, she’d never truly walk away.
Not now, not ever.
His phone buzzed over and over inside his robe pocket.
When he finally checked it, bold, flirty messages lit up the screen, making his throat tighten.
He gave a short reply, deleted everything, and carelessly tossed the phone aside before sinking into bed.
The soft, familiar scent lingering on the sheets eased his nerves, and before long, he was fast asleep.
Meanwhile, in the study, Stella quietly snapped a picture of the hairpin and sent it to a luxury resale boutique. “Sell this. ASAP.”
She attached a bank account. “Send the money here.”
It was the institute’s official account.
Even something stained could still be put to good use.
…
By morning, when Marc opened his eyes, Stella was already fully dressed.
He leaned up on his elbows and motioned her over.
His voice was husky and soft with sleep. “Come here. Give me a hug.”
Stella’s fingers paused on her blouse buttons. She drew in a breath, her gaze clear and composed. “Something urgent came up at the institute. I’ve got to leave now. Didn’t have time to make breakfast—you’ll have to sort it out yourself today.”
She grabbed her bag and walked out, just like last night—no glance, no hesitation.
Marc’s hands froze mid-motion, a hollow feeling creeping back into his chest. He slowly rubbed his brows, trying to shake it off.
No matter how packed her schedule was, Stella never missed a morning. She always made sure breakfast was ready just in time. Then she’d gently wake him, coax a hug, and offer a morning kiss with that sweet smile.
But not today.
“Stella.”
Just as she opened the door, she heard his voice behind her. It felt like something ripped through her chest—sharp and deep.
She turned slowly, her eyes steady. “Yes?”
Marc looked at her for a long moment. She seemed normal. Maybe it was just in his head. “Make sure you eat, even if things get hectic. And don’t stay up too late. The Marina Horizon deal hit a snag, so I’ll be working late this week. Don’t wait up.”
“Alright.” Stella smiled.
With sunlight on her face, that warm smile and sparkling eyes reminded him of the girl who’d once taken his breath away.
Marc’s heart skipped a beat. His voice turned even softer. “Once work calms down, let’s go to Midstream Isle. Make up for the honeymoon we missed.”
Her heart, already aching, felt like it was breaking all over again.
Back when they were planning the wedding, she’d carefully listed out places they’d travel to together—one for every anniversary as another honeymoon. She’d believed they’d stay in love forever.
But this year, Marc had taken another woman to that very place. The photos of them together were still in her phone.
Stella lowered her eyes and answered quietly, “Sure… when things settle down.”
With that, she turned and walked out.
Not a flicker of warmth was left in her eyes.
And sadly for him, that chance would never come.
Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell Chapter 2 Caught Red Handed
Stella drove her modest black Volkswagen straight through the gates of the Hookwood Research Institute.
The moment she stepped inside the main office building, Lainey Lewis, her senior colleague, marched up and grabbed her by the wrist. “You’re seriously here to submit the application? What’s going on, Stella? You didn’t reply to my messages. You can’t just make a decision like this on a whim. This project isn’t some experiment, and you should’ve at least discussed it with Marc.”
A sharp ache rose in Stella’s chest, but she remained silent.
Instead, she unlocked her phone, scrolled to a WhatsApp conversation, and handed it over.
Dozens of provocative messages and suggestive images stared back—sent more than once. One photo in particular left nothing to the imagination.
Lainey glanced at the screen, then immediately shoved the phone back into Stella’s hands, her eyes blazing. “That bastard! If it weren’t for your patents back then, his company wouldn’t have even made it past launch. And now he’s cheating on you? Come on, we’re going back. I swear I’ll make him crawl on his knees begging for mercy.”
Stella quickly caught her arm. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“What do you mean, not necessary? After what he’s done? You’re just going to stand there and let him get away with it?”
Her voice was shaking, but Stella’s was cool and even.
“Let him off? Never.” She slid her phone back into her coat pocket. “Facing him head-on would be far too easy. I want him to suffer… to truly regret everything.”
Lainey said nothing more. She knew exactly the kind of person Stella was.
Brilliant in the lab. Honest to a fault. But if someone pushed her beyond her limits, she’d never let it go quietly. She’d bounce back when they least expected it—with precision and force.
They walked together toward the administrative office, and the form submission went smoothly. A few steps, a couple of stamps, and everything was nearly finalized—just awaiting the final review.
Before she left, Stella volunteered to attend an academic seminar on behalf of the institute and gather the necessary materials.
By 3:30 p.m., the event at the Grace Hotel had wrapped up. Holding a folder against her chest, Stella stepped out of the lobby, making her way toward the parking lot when a familiar, lazy chuckle reached her ears.
“Come on now, be good.”
Her body stiffened at once. The moment she heard that voice, she slowly turned around. A wave of betrayal crashed over her, as if the ground beneath her had shifted without warning.
Marc had his arm wrapped around a long-haired woman with a slim waist, guiding her through the entrance of the hotel. The woman chirped, “I miss you… miss you so much,” her voice syrupy and intimate.
As she said it, she leaned into Marc, her lips trailing from his earlobe down his neck, her red lipstick smudging along his skin.
Marc laughed, low and fond, drawing her even closer, his palm firmly resting at the curve of her waist.
Stella’s vision blurred for a second, her chest tightening.
So this was where the woman had followed him—to this very hotel—and they couldn’t even wait until nightfall.
Then, through the slowly spinning glass of the revolving door, their eyes met.
Marc’s gaze was dark and full of desire, while Stella’s eyes were calm and distant, with a hint of mockery.
The air between them suddenly felt heavy.
The woman noticed Stella too. But instead of looking startled, she simply smiled smugly, then turned and kissed Marc again—this time deeper, more deliberate, as if marking her territory.
A bitter taste rose in Stella’s throat. Her stomach churned with nausea. She turned away, refusing to witness the spectacle any longer.
She reached for her car door, but before she could get into the car, a hand stopped her from behind. Marc had chased after her, a little breathless, and the smell of that woman’s bold perfume still clung to him—strong enough to make her sick.
“Let go!” Stella tried to shake him off, but the door wouldn’t budge.
Marc didn’t say a word—he just grabbed her waist and pushed her into the back seat, sliding in right after. His sharp features looked tense, and his eyes flickered with a strange mix of anxiety and impatience. “Stella, please, let me explain.”
With nowhere to run, Stella shifted away and spoke in a frozen tone. “Wipe that lipstick off your mouth before you start talking.”
Marc’s face fell. His hand flew to his mouth without thinking, eyes flashing with a hint of panic. “The Marina Horizon deal’s in trouble. I’ve been stressing over the funding and reached out to Nova Holdings. Haley Smith—she’s the daughter of a board member of Nova Holdings. She doesn’t speak our language well and had been drinking. I was just making sure she got back to the hotel.”
His tone was gentle, and he leaned in the way he always did when he wanted to charm her. “She’s from Achury. People in her country are pretty relaxed, you know that. I swear I’ll be more careful. Don’t be upset, okay? I’ll make it up to you.”
Stella looked at him, her eyes sharp and cold. “So… is that how you secure investments? By getting that close to their daughters?”
There was no shouting, no tears.
Stella spoke with a chilling calm, too composed to be angry. Her quiet words stripped every excuse from Marc’s mouth, leaving them meaningless.
That same heavy emptiness crashed into him again. Frustrated, he pulled at his tie, trying to breathe. “Stella, come on. It’s for work. Can you not blow this out of proportion?”
Stella almost laughed.
She hadn’t even raised her voice.
Did he want her to throw the photos in his face to make it count as drama?
The love she’d held onto all these years now burned like a blade in her chest.
“If you’re done with me, Marc, just be honest. I won’t hold on—I’ll give you the divorce you want.”
Why did he have to play games? Why lie?
Right after those words left her mouth, Marc grabbed her shoulder—hard.
His eyes were ice. “Don’t ever say that. We promised—no matter what, we’d work through it. Divorce is not an option. Don’t even mention it.”
Work it out?
He had already slept with someone else. What was left to fix now?
It felt like she was trapped in a web of thorns. Every breath, every movement cut deeper.
Suddenly, Marc’s phone rang. He checked it, frowned, and declined the call.
But Stella caught the name on the screen. “Sweetheart Wild Thing.”
Before he could tuck it away, the phone lit up again—this time, WhatsApp messages popping up. The sender’s name? “Sizzling Baby.”
“Baby, I’m in pain.”
“I need you. Come now.”
“I’m bleeding… am I going to die?”
Three texts, all in Achure, one after another.
Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell Chapter 3 Just A Friend
It was like Marc believed she couldn’t read Achure at all—he didn’t bother hiding the screen and typed a swift “On my way” before shutting off his phone without a word of hesitation.
“Stella, I’ve got something urgent to handle. If you can’t help, at least stay out of the way. Be good, alright?” He said softly, brushing her hair as if she were a child.
Then he turned and walked away without once looking back. She just sat there and let him go.
It felt like something inside her had been torn to pieces—too much pain to feel anything at all.
She dropped the conference materials off at the institute for recordkeeping, then quietly headed home without another word.
Marc didn’t return for the next three days, and she didn’t call.
Not even once. There was nothing left to say.
While waiting for her final approval, she kept herself occupied by sorting through her things—anything to keep her mind from collapsing.
The storage room was a shrine to their years together—handwritten notes from their first confession, the lopsided pottery they made on their first date, a small heart-shaped stone from a mountain night sky, and rows of framed photos bundled by year. Even the Polaroid cameras were neatly arranged from oldest to newest.
Stella had always been sentimental—she kept these things, hoping one day they’d sit together as old souls, laughing over the past.
But now, it all felt like some cruel joke. Without hesitation, she tossed the keepsakes into the fireplace and watched them burn.
As for the expensive gifts—diamonds, luxury watches, delicate necklaces, and even the wedding ring—she lined them up, took photos, and messaged her contact at the resale boutique. She told him to clear them all out.
When she saw the empty jewelry box, it finally sank in—love, no matter how glittering, was worthless once tainted by betrayal.
After another two days, she got the news that her application for joining the closed-door research project had been approved.
She had ten quiet days before the project would begin.
Wanting to stock up on essentials, she changed clothes and headed to the mall. But as she came down the escalator with her shopping bags, she caught sight of a scene that stopped her in her tracks.
There stood Jazlyn Walsh—her always-critical mother-in-law—smiling warmly and clinging to that Haley woman’s arm like they were old friends. The affection on her face was a stab to the gut.
And next to them was Marc, the same man who’d disappeared for days, carefully slipping a glittering diamond bracelet onto Haley’s wrist with all the tenderness he used to reserve for her.
They looked complete—like a picture-perfect family. One that didn’t include her.
When Haley nodded with delight, Jazlyn praised her taste with a sparkle in her eye and casually handed over a black card for payment.
But to Stella, the moment was soaked in bitter irony.
That black card belonged to her. It was her money being spent.
She had earned those privileges… deep discounts, first picks from new collections, all because of her close friendship with the brand’s director.
What was meant as a thoughtful gesture to bring her and Jazlyn closer was now being used to flatter Marc’s mistress.
Without hesitation, Stella marched up to the counter, yanked the card from the stunned saleswoman’s hand, and said calmly, “Sorry. This card’s no longer valid.”
The employee blinked in confusion. “Ma’am, that’s a premium card. It doesn’t expire, and it can’t be canceled…”
“Oh, really?” Stella broke the card clean in half and tossed it into the nearby trash without blinking. “It’s canceled now.”
Jazlyn’s fury exploded. She slapped Stella hard across the cheek and hissed, “What’s gotten into you? Do you even realize how disgraceful you’re being?”
The Walsh family carried a spotless reputation, and Marc had always been praised as a prodigy in finance.
From the very beginning, when Stella and Marc had only just started dating, Jazlyn had treated her with indifference. And after the wedding, that coldness only grew. No matter how hard Stella tried to earn her approval, a warm smile never came.
She had always kept quiet, not wanting to put Marc in a tough spot.
But that patience—built on love—had finally run dry.
She had no reason to tolerate it anymore.
Then, suddenly, two crisp slaps rang out, landing squarely on Marc’s face.
The noise silenced everyone around them.
This was Marc Walsh—the man hailed in financial circles like a legend, and now he stood, red-cheeked, slapped in broad daylight.
“Stella!” Jazlyn shouted, livid. She rolled up her sleeves as if ready to storm forward and retaliate.
However, Stella stood her ground, her chin lifted high. “You lay a hand on me again, and I’ll hit him twice as hard. Want to test me?”
“You! You…” Jazlyn was so furious she clutched her chest for breath. “Marc! Look at her! How can you let her act like such a shrew?”
Stella turned toward Marc with a cold smirk. “Tell me, Marc—didn’t I have every reason to slap you?”
Marc’s expression hardened, his jaw clenched. He stepped forward and seized her wrist, muttering under his breath, “Stella, that’s enough. Just calm down. You’re making a scene.”
Suddenly, Haley rushed into Marc’s arms, dragging his hand to her waist and whining in Achure about Stella’s outrageous behavior.
She clung to him like ivy, calling him “darling” again and again, as if she wanted to dissolve into his skin.
Marc murmured soft reassurances in Achure, speaking to her gently.
The sight of them, so close and cozy, made Stella laugh in disbelief.
Then, out of nowhere, Stella spoke—her Achure fluent, her tone sharp.
“If you’re bold enough to be someone’s mistress, at least have the decency not to play the innocent. You’re sleeping with another woman’s husband—don’t even think about denying it. If Achure’s not working for you, we can switch. I speak sixteen languages. You pick one, and I’ll keep up. If I lose the argument, I’ll admit defeat.”
Haley’s face turned a deep red.
She had clearly never imagined Stella could speak Achure so perfectly. Hadn’t Marc said his wife was just some regular office employee?
Marc’s face darkened, his tone rigid. “Stella… when did you learn Achure?”
The moment hit her like a knife twisting deeper into an open wound.
Her lips curled into a bitter smile.
“Ah, Marc, you must really love me, huh?” The sarcasm in her voice was razor-sharp. “Go on, enjoy your little shopping spree. I won’t get in your way.”
And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Marc quickly moved to follow, but Jazlyn and Haley each latched onto one of his arms, stopping him.
“Marc, just divorce that shameless woman already! How dare she lay a hand on you?” Jazlyn snapped.
She had said those exact words countless times before, and Marc had always ignored them. But for some reason, this time, they felt different. They got under his skin.
“That’s between me and her,” he muttered, shaking them off and hurrying after Stella.
Luckily, he managed to catch her just as she reached her car. “Stella.”
The second his fingers touched her wrist, a wave of nausea hit her, and she shook it off in disgust. “What is it, Mr. Walsh? Done playing house with your wild little darling?”
Marc’s face twisted in frustration. “Haley’s just a friend. Why are you being so jealous? Can’t you be mature for once? Do you have to humiliate us in public?”
Stella let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
Of course. Somehow, in the end, it always circled back to being her fault. How convenient.
“So let me get this straight,” she snapped. “Even if I walk in on you and your side piece in bed, I should smile, close the curtains, and stand outside to protect the family name?”
His grip on her wrist tightened, his eyes flashing. “How many times do I have to say it? She’s just a friend!”
“A friend, is it?” Stella’s tone dripped with irony as she looked him up and down.
Then her gaze turned playful, laced with something sharper like seduction or maybe vengeance.
“Alright then, I’ll go find myself a friend too. And I’ll make sure to do everything you and Haley have done—every last thing.” She leaned in slightly, her voice a whisper dipped in venom. “And you, dear husband… don’t get jealous. That wouldn’t be fair, now would it?”
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