Chapter 19

Adrian Roland pushed the door open, his gaze slicing through Hugo Merovingian like a blade.

A mocking smile curled his lips. "Stella Valentine, you certainly know how to pick your moments."

Stella instinctively tightened her grip on the bedsheet. "Let me explain—"

"Explain what?" Adrian's voice was icy. "Damian Chamberlain said you were dying. You seem perfectly fine to me."

"Must you always speak like this?"

"What would you prefer?" He stepped closer to the bed. "Another one of your lies?"

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

She should have known better. No explanation would ever be enough.

Five years. No matter what she said, he would always see it as an excuse.

"Tell me about the child," Adrian demanded abruptly.

Stella let out a bitter laugh. "Would you even believe me if I did?"

"Try me."

"After the car accident six years ago, I found out I was pregnant." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You refused to see me. I had to go abroad to give birth. He's been frail since childhood, always in and out of hospitals—"

"Nice story." Adrian cut her off. "I heard everything just now. You've known each other for six years. Two thousand one hundred ninety-two days. You only came back because the child was sick. So who took care of him overseas?"

"I did." Hugo spoke up for the first time. "Mr. Roland, I've heard much about you. Though after today, your judgment in matters of the heart is... disappointing."

Adrian's eyes turned glacial. "You have no right to judge."

Stella forced herself upright. "Hugo, please go."

Hugo held her gaze for a long moment. "I'll handle the child's situation. Remember what I said—file for divorce as soon as possible."

As he turned to leave, Adrian blocked the doorway, unmoving.

"Move," Hugo said coolly.

The two men stood locked in a silent battle of wills before Adrian finally stepped aside.

The moment the door clicked shut, Stella collapsed back onto the bed, exhaustion washing over her.

Her wounds throbbed with fresh pain.

"Can't bear to see him go?" Adrian's voice was venomous. "That attached?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "Yes. I can't bear it. Happy now?"

"So you admit it?" He grabbed her chin roughly. "That child is his, isn't it?"

Pain shot through her jaw, but she refused to make a sound.

"What man would raise another's child for five years?" Adrian sneered. "Unless it was his own."

"Get out."

He froze. "What did you say?"

"I said—" She enunciated each word slowly, "get the hell out!"

Never in her life had she raised her voice at him like this.

Adrian stood rooted to the spot.

His mind flashed back to the frantic drive here, his heart pounding in his chest.

Damian had told him she had a five-year-old son.

If the child was his...

The thought surfaced for only a second before he crushed it mercilessly.

How could he show weakness to the woman who killed his father?

Yet when he'd burst into that hospital room, what he'd heard was another man claiming to have known her for six years.

In that moment, he'd never felt more like a fool.

He'd known she was lying.

And still, he'd come running.

Like an idiot.