Chapter 157

"You care deeply about that man."

Adrian Roland's voice echoed through the car—not a question, but a statement.

Stella Valentine remained silent, gazing at the blur of city lights outside the window.

As the car stopped at a red light, she pushed the door open without hesitation and walked away.

The engine didn't start behind her, but she refused to look back.

Let it all end here. Every reopened wound from the past felt like slow torture. She wouldn't shed another tear for lost youth.

"Watch out!"

A dark figure slammed into her shoulder, yanking her purse away with brutal force.

White-hot pain exploded through her abdomen. She staggered, doubling over.

"Stella!" Adrian sprinted to her side, steadying her trembling frame. "Where does it hurt?"

The thief had struck precisely where her unhealed wound lay.

Pain drowned her senses. She bit her lip, unable to speak.

"My bag..."

"Forget the bag. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No..." She gasped. "There's something inside—"

"What could be more important than your life?"

The tie—Mr. Alistair's gift—rested quietly in her wallet's hidden compartment.

Adrian lifted her into his arms. He hesitated at the passenger seat, then laid her across the back to avoid seatbelt pressure on her injury.

"Not Houston General," she whispered. "Don't let my mother worry."

"...Understood."

When the pain dulled slightly, her first instinct was to contact Mr. Alistair.

But her phone had been stolen along with her purse.

"Adrian..."

"I'm here." His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.

"Let me borrow your phone."

"Who are you calling? I'll dial for you."

"My boyfriend." She clenched her jaw. "Just hand me the phone."

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Can't while driving."

"Weren't we done with this separation?"

"Divorce is one thing. Using my phone to call my rival is another."

She scoffed, leaning back. "Forget it then."

"Changed your mind?"

"How could I call without a phone?" She closed her eyes. "He always knows where I am anyway."

"Then why contact him?"

"Just..." Her voice faded. "I've grown used to having someone to lean on."

Adrian inhaled sharply. "Will you...marry him?"

"Maybe." Her fingers brushed her abdomen. "With my health, I might not—"

"Don't." His voice cracked.

"What?"

"Marriage is complicated."

A mocking smile touched her lips. "Lily Savigny has high standards? The great Adrian Roland has limits?"

"I don't want to."

"...What?"

"I said, I don't want to marry her." His words came out rough. "Believe me?"

"Not my concern."

"Stella, is there really...no chance for us?"

"None."

"What if..." His Adam's apple bobbed. "What if that man had never appeared?"

She watched clouds streak past the window. "Without him, I'd already be dead."

Silence swallowed the car.

"If you're certain he's the one..." His voice turned hoarse. "I'll disappear forever."

After a long pause, she whispered, "That would be best."

......

"The impact didn't cause new damage. You're healing well."

The doctor set down the X-ray and offered another form. "Ms. Valentine, you've had a lung resection?"

"Yes. Cancer."

"We should check for possible metastasis." Noticing her pallor, he softened his tone. "Don't worry. Your color looks good—likely nothing."

She stared at the form, unable to lift her hand.

Terrified that test results might shatter her fragile happiness.

Adrian finally took the paper and guided her out.

"I don't want the scan." She shook her head. "The children are waiting."

"Your choice." He pressed the form into her palm.

No test means no knowledge.

No knowledge means pretending everything's fine.

Call her cowardly or self-deceiving—she only wanted to protect this stolen peace.

At the hospital entrance, she hailed a cab. "Rosewood Gardens, please."

"Got it."

"Sir, may I borrow your phone?" She explained, "My purse was stolen. I'll double your fare when we arrive."

The driver eyed her suspiciously but handed over his phone.

Her fingers moved automatically, dialing the memorized number.

Ring—Ring—

No answer.

This wasn't right. Mr. Alistair never missed her calls.

"Miss, you're not trying to skip payment, are you?"

"One more try." Her hands trembled.

Still no response.

"Call someone else?" The driver sounded impatient.

After a pause, she dialed Joy Fairsprene's number.

"Hello?" A sleep-roughened male voice answered.

Confirming the number, she hesitated. "Is this...Joy's phone?"

The man yawned. "Ms. Valentine?"

That voice...

"Victor Valence?"