Chapter 124

Adrian Roland's fingers dug deep into the armrest of the sofa, his knuckles turning white.

"Grandfather, I've looked into it." His voice was hoarse. "Little Star's condition... is serious."

The teacup in Edward Roland's hand trembled violently, spilling tea onto the coffee table.

"Stage four lung cancer." Adrian closed his eyes. "The doctor said... six months at most."

The antique clock in the study ticked heavily, each chime striking like a hammer to the heart.

"She once said her greatest wish was never to see me again." Adrian gave a bitter smile. "I owe her too much. At least now... I shouldn't make things harder for her."

The old man remained silent for a long moment, deep exhaustion etched into his wrinkles.

"What about Lily Savigny?" he suddenly asked. "That child in her belly..."

Adrian's fists clenched abruptly.

The strange scent from that night, the hazy memories—they all made his blood run cold.

"Are you certain it's yours?" Edward's gaze burned like fire.

"I..." Adrian's Adam's apple bobbed. "I can't remember."

"Foolish!" Edward slammed his palm on the table. "Wait until the child is born for a DNA test! If it's not a Roland, throw her out immediately!"

Adrian suddenly touched his collar, his expression changing drastically.

"Where's your tie?" Edward narrowed his eyes.

"I need to find it!" Adrian stood abruptly, his eyes bloodshot.

Before the old man could stop him, he had already rushed out the door.

Stella Valentine's pencil moved swiftly across the design sketch.

Her creativity flowed unusually well on Victor Valence's first day of absence. The clothing samples Katrina Orlando had sent over inspired new ideas.

Her phone vibrated suddenly, Joy Fairsprene's name flashing on the screen.

"Stella! I'm downstairs at your office!"

Joy's outfit made Stella freeze—a turtleneck sweater, sunglasses, and a face mask, standing out conspicuously under the September sun.

"Are you... being followed by paparazzi?" Stella opened the car door.

"Don't even ask!" Joy yanked down her mask, revealing a swollen lip. "That well-dressed beast Julian Valois!"

Stella instinctively covered her own lip.

"Oh!" Joy's eyes lit up. "You too... your Mr. Alistair must be quite intense!"

"No!" Stella's ears burned. "This was... an accident."

Joy smirked and leaned closer. "I sacrificed so much to dig up some info—Adrian Roland has a twin brother."

Stella's purse dropped onto the car seat with a thud.

"Julian said the child was born with defects and mysteriously disappeared." Joy lowered her voice. "Do you think Mr. Alistair could be..."

Stella's heart skipped a beat.

Fragmented clues suddenly connected—his mention of an unrequited love, his uncanny familiarity with her, those hands that moved effortlessly in the dark...

"What if it's a mental condition?" Joy suggested suddenly. "Like autism spectrum disorder?"

A phone ringtone interrupted their speculation.

"Miss Valentine..." A weak female voice came through the line. "It's Claire Florent..."

In the dilapidated old district, peeling paint fluttered from the walls like dying leaves.

Claire lay on the bed, her body reduced to skin and bones.

"Please..." Her breath was faint. "Oliver hasn't eaten or drunk anything for three days since he learned I'm leaving..."

Stella grasped her skeletal hand. "I'll go see him."

Outside the window, a withered leaf spiraled slowly to the ground.