Chapter 129

The glass door of the pastry shop swung open. Stella Valentine stepped out with a paper bag in hand, only to find Edward Roland's military SUV already parked by the curb.

Joy Fairsprene, wrapped in an exaggerated headscarf, nudged closer. "The Roland genes are something else. Ethan looking like Adrian is one thing, but the old man's features? It's like they were carved from the same mold..."

Stella pressed her lips together in silence.

She remembered Adrian mentioning that Edward had been a soldier in his youth. After founding New Frontier Group, he'd retained that military bearing—straight-backed and unyielding.

Now, the silver-haired man stood beside the vehicle, his posture as rigid as a pine tree.

"Grandpa Roland."

"Ah, Stella." His smile was warm. "Last time, the house was in chaos. How about joining me for dinner today?"

When she hesitated, he added, "Just the two of us."

Joy poked her from behind. "Go! He must know something about Adrian's brother!"

The military SUV glided smoothly through the streets.

"What would you like to eat?" Edward asked.

"Your choice."

"Then let's have rice porridge. Good for the stomach."

At the health congee restaurant, Edward nearly tripped on the steps.

"It's nothing," he waved off her concern. "An old injury from my days in the Korean War."

Stella noticed the slight limp in his right leg as they walked.

After ordering, Edward sighed heavily. "Stella, I have a favor to ask today."

"Go ahead."

"Let me see the children." His eyes held quiet pleading. "Just tomorrow. Would that be alright?"

Stella stirred her plain porridge. "Yes. But don't tell Adrian."

"Of course, of course..." He nodded repeatedly before hesitating again. "Is there really... no chance left for Adrian?"

"Grandpa Roland." She set down her spoon. "We both need fresh starts."

Dusk had settled when Stella returned to her apartment.

Her fingers barely grazed the light switch when strong arms encircled her from behind.

"Let me taste what you had for dinner." Mr. Alistair's breath brushed her ear.

The kiss was slow and lingering.

"Rice porridge?" He chuckled. "The old man's being stingy?"

"I ordered it." She tilted her head up to look at him.

In the dim light, his profile appeared strikingly defined. That navy blue checkered tie flickered in the fading light—strangely familiar.