Chapter 117

The scenery outside the car window blurred past in reverse.

Stella Valentine sat quietly in the passenger seat, a silk scarf covering her eyes. She could feel the vehicle weaving through the city streets.

The clamor of school dismissal drifted through the window.

"How did you only score sixty on this math test?" A mother's sharp reprimand cut through the noise.

A child's cheerful voice followed. "Mommy, my teacher praised my dancing today!"

As they passed through the commercial district, the aroma of street food seeped through the car's cracks.

Braised pork's savory richness, grilled fish's spicy tang, and stir-fried vegetables' crisp freshness blended into the bustling urban atmosphere.

"Mr. Alistair," Stella spoke suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Have you always worn this cologne because you like it?"

His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

"Professional necessity," he answered curtly.

Stella nodded thoughtfully. She should have realized—Mr. Alistair's identity was undoubtedly complex.

"Don't like the scent? I can change it."

"No need." She shook her head. "This fragrance... is distinctive."

Distinctive enough for her to recognize him instantly in a crowd.

The phone's sudden ringtone shattered the moment.

Fumbling to answer, Stella stiffened at her mother's tearful voice.

"Mom? Why did you leave the hospital?"

Hanging up, she ripped off the scarf. "Mr. Alistair, I need to go home immediately."

His brow furrowed. "I'll take you."

"But your identity—"

"Just to the doorstep." He pressed the accelerator. "Contact me immediately if anything happens."

Stella clenched her fists. What were Victor Lefèvre and Sophia Durand planning to do to her mother?

The car halted before the Valentine family estate.

The sweet scent of osmanthus blossoms couldn't mask the tension radiating from the house.

Pushing open the door, Stella instantly spotted her mother's red-rimmed eyes.

"Stella..." Grace Laurent choked out, grasping her daughter's hand.

At the room's center, Lily Savigny sobbed against Sophia's shoulder while Victor puffed on a cigarette, face stormy.

Most striking was the white-haired elder—Edward Roland leaned on his cane, gaze piercing.

"This is Mr. Roland," Sophia introduced with false sweetness.

Stella bowed respectfully. "Mr. Roland."

"Enough!" The old man's cane struck the floor sharply. "Stop your pathetic acting!"

Sophia's face paled. "What do you mean?"

"You think this old fool doesn't know the truth about my son's accident?" Edward's laugh was icy. "A millennium-old fox trying to trick me with cheap theatrics!"

Victor shot to his feet. "Sir! We invited you today to discuss Lily's pregnancy!"

"Pregnant?" Edward scoffed. "Not my problem!"

"You—!" Victor's face purpled with rage. "Is the Roland family denying responsibility?"

Ignoring him, Edward studied Stella intently.

"So you're little Stella?" His expression softened unexpectedly. "That boy Adrian has decent taste after all."