Chapter 179

Stella Valentine nodded softly. "He's Mr. Alistair. That's all that matters."

Joy Fairsprene propped her chin on her hand, sighing dramatically. "Julian Valois is such a closed book. No matter how hard I try, I can't get him to open up."

"Don't push him," Stella said, squeezing her friend's hand. "I've made my peace with things. But you should think carefully about your relationship with Julian."

Joy suddenly deflated, slumping onto the table. "He's perfect in every way—except he won't give me the freedom I want." She shook her soda cup. "Like this cola. He always says it's unhealthy and insists on making me herbal tea instead."

Stella studied the spirited young woman before her, seeing a bird yearning for open skies.

"What about Harry Vance?"

"We haven't spoken in ages." Joy perked up. "Oh! His concert is this weekend. I still have your ticket—are you going?"

Stella shook her head. "I've been too busy lately."

"Ugh, just thinking about taking over the family business someday, plus marriage and kids..." Joy clutched her head theatrically. "It makes my scalp tingle!"

Stella smiled without comment. She was still navigating her own marital maze—who was she to advise others?

"Enough of this!" Joy sprang up. "Give me a tour of your place!"

As they descended the spiral staircase, Joy suddenly pointed at a wall painting. "This is so much better than Sophia Durand's tacky decor! At her birthday party last time, everything was gold-plated—nearly blinded me!"

Stella's gaze lingered on the oil paintings. These were her late mother Grace Laurent's works, meticulously recovered by Mr. Alistair.

"Is this one of the night sky?" Joy leaned closer. "With your mom's signature in the corner?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Alistair is incredible!" Joy marveled. "Even the placement is exact. Stella, do you remember the original layout?"

Stella's heart skipped. She'd grown up in this house, yet couldn't recall each painting's precise location. Mr. Alistair claimed he'd been here before, but she had no memory of him.

After Joy left, Stella sat alone in the living room, staring at the wall.

"Little Star?" Grace came downstairs, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Mom... are these paintings in their original positions?"

Grace chuckled. "I don't remember. What matters is that seeing them feels like coming home."

Stella fell into thought.

"That young man who helped you..." Grace patted her daughter's hand. "Though I've never met him, he feels strangely familiar."

Stella's eyes grew moist. "Mom..."

"He must have his reasons." Grace smiled gently. "As long as you're happy, I accept him."

Stella laughed through tears. "That's not very principled of you."

"Principles matter less than my daughter's happiness." Grace paused. "But... tell him to use the front door instead of climbing the wall."

Stella flushed crimson. "You... you saw that?"

"I got up for water last night and noticed." Grace winked. "I'm not old-fashioned, but you just had Luna..." She lowered her voice. "Remember to be careful."