Chapter 181
The night breeze brushed past as Stella Valentine couldn't help but chuckle. "Mr. Alistair, we've been acting more and more like children lately."
"Is that such a bad thing?" His voice was unusually tender in the darkness. "When we're forced to grow up, we'll realize how rare it is to be childish."
Stella gazed into his deep eyes, her heartbeat skipping.
"I'll wait with you," she murmured. "I can't let you stand here alone in the cold."
Suddenly, he pulled her closer, his long fingers threading through her hair. "Get on."
"Now?"
"Yes."
"Where are we going?"
"It's a secret."
She glanced back at the villa. The windows were dark—her mother must already be asleep.
His arm tightened around her waist, lifting her effortlessly. In one smooth motion, he settled her onto the motorcycle's front seat before swinging his leg over and caging her against him.
He unzipped his jacket and forcibly wrapped her arms around his waist. Pressed against his firm chest, she heard his low command: "Hold tight."
The engine roared to life. The black motorcycle shot forward like an arrow.
Wind whipped past them, tangling her hair and fluttering the hem of her white floral nightgown—the one he'd picked out for her, which she'd once dismissed as too loose. Now it was her favorite.
"Stella."
The rushing wind nearly drowned out his voice.
"Mr. Alistair, I can't hear—"
She'd never seen him like this. The usually composed man was now racing through the night on his motorcycle.
As the speed increased, the scenery blurred into streaks. She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging desperately to his waist, terrified the wind might tear her away.
She felt his chest vibrate—he was saying something. But the roaring wind stole every word.
Only when the road grew rough did the bike finally slow.
Stella opened her eyes—and gasped. The wheels were inches from the cliff's edge.
She immediately shut them again, fingers twisting into his shirt.
"Still afraid of heights?" He steered with one hand, the other soothingly rubbing her back.
She nodded frantically against him.
"Feeling dizzy?"
"A... a little."
He fished something from his pocket and pressed it into her palm. The familiar shape made her pause. "Star Candy?"
"Yeah."
She popped it into her mouth. The sweetness gradually eased her fear.
When the bike finally stopped, Adrian Roland steadied her. Her face was pale, lips bitten white—only her candy-filled cheek held any color.
"Better?"
"Yes."
"Liar." He sighed, using his sleeve to wipe the tear at her eyelid. "You don't have to pretend with me."
Stella lowered her lashes. "Someone once told me that too."
"..."
"He promised to protect me forever... then forgot."
"..."
"Maybe not completely. Just mixed up who to protect." She lifted her gaze, resolve shining through. "But I don't need to rely on anyone now. I can stand on my own."
Adrian's throat moved. "Stella... do you still trust me?"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "But I want to be strong enough to protect myself."
His smile turned bitter. "That man who looks like me... did he make you afraid to trust completely?"
She was silent for a moment. "These six years, I lost much... but gained more. Ethan, Luna, Mom... and you. My sense of security isn't weaker—it's fuller now."
"Yet you refuse to show weakness around me."
"Because I want to be strong enough to protect those I love."
Adrian studied her before suddenly laughing softly. "How could I ever let such a bright star slip away?"
"You didn't," she whispered. "You just stopped seeing me."
The night breeze flowed between them, carrying their unspoken words.
"Mr. Alistair... can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"Back then... you just watched me suffer?"
His eyes darkened. "I... wasn't fully conscious then."
"Sick? Or injured?"
"Call it an illness."
"Was it serious?"
"The doctors said... borderline."
Stella thought of Oliver. "Like that autistic boy who lost his mother? You can handle company affairs now, play with the kids... so you're healed?"
He looked toward the distant horizon. "That... I'm not sure."