Chapter 192

Stella's hands trembled.

The gruesome wound stretched across Mr. Alistair's arm, the flesh torn and horrifying to behold.

"Don't look." He covered her eyes with his other hand, his voice low.

She pushed his hand away. "Was this from the accident?"

"Yes."

"A motorcycle?"

He chuckled softly. "Nothing gets past you."

Stella's eyes burned. "Were you going fast?"

"Not too bad."

"Liar!" Her voice shook. "This kind of injury only happens at speeds over fifty miles—"

Adrian suddenly pulled her into his arms. "Don't be afraid. It's over now."

"How can it be over?" Her voice cracked. "It's still bleeding..."

"Stella." He cupped her face. "Losing you would hurt far more than this."

She bit her lower lip. "Let's go to the hospital."

"No."

"Why not?"

"My identity..."

She stamped her foot in frustration. "We can't just leave it like this!"

Adrian suddenly smiled. "You're worried about me?"

"Of course!"

"Then promise me something." He leaned close to her ear. "If this arm becomes useless, you'll take responsibility."

Stella glared at him. "How can you joke at a time like this?"

"I'm not joking." His gaze turned serious. "Stella, I have nothing left."

Her heart clenched.

"Except you." His voice softened. "You're all I have now."

Stella took a deep breath. "I'll go buy medicine."

Half an hour later, Room 1231 at the Houston Grand Hotel.

"Bear with it." Her hand shook as she held the antiseptic cotton.

Adrian leaned back on the sofa, his expression gentle. "It's fine. Do what you need to."

The moment the alcohol touched the wound, his muscles tensed, but he didn't make a sound.

Tears fell from Stella's eyes. "If it hurts, just say so."

"It doesn't." Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. "Compared to the pain of losing you, this is nothing."

She remembered that afternoon in high school.

The sunlight had been blinding on the soccer field when young Adrian fell, his leg swelling terribly.

"If I make you lame," seventeen-year-old Stella had said, "I'll take care of you."

Memory and reality overlapped.

"Mr. Alistair," she wiped her tears, "if this arm really..."

"Hmm?"

"I'll take care of you forever."

Adrian's eyes darkened. He suddenly pulled her close and kissed her.

The taste of blood lingered between them, yet the kiss was gentler than ever.

"Remember what you said." He panted against her forehead.

Stella nodded, her face flushed. "But first, let's treat your wound properly."

She bandaged him carefully, her movements clumsy but earnest.

Adrian watched her intently, as if etching this moment into his bones.

"Done." She exhaled in relief.

He flexed his arm. "Not bad."

"Liar. It's wrapped like a mummy."

"Because you did it." He smiled faintly. "So it's perfect."

Stella suddenly remembered something. "Ethan had a dream the other day..."

"About me getting hurt?"

"How did you know?"

Adrian's eyes flickered. "Father and son share a connection."

She paused but didn't press further.

Outside, dusk deepened. The room was so quiet they could hear each other's breathing.

"Stella." He spoke suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Let me say it this time." He took her hand. "If one day—"

"There are no 'ifs.'" She cut him off. "We'll both be fine."

Adrian smiled and pulled her into his arms.

The lamplight cast their intertwined shadows onto the wall, merging into one.