Chapter 194

"Even the punctuation marks are identical?"

Stella Valentine bit her straw, brows furrowed. "Are all twins this uncanny?"

Joy Fairsprene lowered her voice. "I read about twin sisters who scored exactly the same on their college entrance exams—even their essays were nearly identical." She smirked. "Think they cheated?"

Stella chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous. They probably just think alike."

Joy's eyes widened as she chewed a tapioca pearl. "What if twin brothers fell for the same woman? Even a paternity test couldn't tell whose child it was!"

"You..." Stella tapped her forehead. "If they had telepathy, the older brother would've known the younger one's thoughts."

Joy suddenly straightened. "Wait! If Mr. Alistair and Adrian are twins, then your relationship with Mr. Alistair—"

Stella's fingers froze.

A lemon seed spun at the bottom of her glass.

"But Adrian doesn't know he has a brother, right?" Joy dismissed her own theory.

Stella checked her watch.

Mr. Alistair had been in pain all night, finally falling asleep at dawn. Seizing the chance, she'd met Joy at a dessert shop near the hotel.

"Joy, I want to visit Oliver."

"No work today?"

Stella shook her head.

After yesterday's confrontation with William, the deal was dead.

She was more worried about Mr. Alistair's health—she wanted to make him nourishing soup.

"Perfect timing." Joy's expression darkened. "Oliver's condition has worsened. He keeps talking to walls, scaring the other kids."

The orphanage was farther than expected.

Traffic stretched the one-hour drive into an eternity.

But today, the orphanage was eerily quiet.

"Strange. The kids should be playing outside now." Joy pulled Stella inside. "Let's find the director."

They nearly collided with the panicked director.

"Director, what's wrong?"

"Oliver... Oliver's missing!" The director trembled. "All staff are searching. Neighbors too, but..."

Stella's chest tightened. "When did you notice?"

"After nap time. The doctor said it's not autism—it's bipolar disorder. If it worsens, he might..."

Suicide.

The word chilled Stella to the bone.

Mr. Alistair had said this illness either led to schizophrenia or self-destruction.

How could a five-year-old bear such agony?

"Stella, we have to find him!" Joy stamped her foot.

Stella forced calm. "Director, have you called the police?"

"Yes, but we're too remote. It'll take time."

Her phone buzzed.

[Don't panic. I sent help.]

Mr. Alistair!

She called back instantly. He answered on the first ring.

"Mr. Alistair! Can you locate Oliver?"

"...My people are already searching."

"You don't know where he is?"

"No."

"Then how did you know I was here?"

"Half guesswork, half Charlie." His voice softened. "She never leaves your side."

No time for questions. "Mr. Alistair, Oliver has your exact condition. If... if the worst happens, where would you go?"

Silence.

"Mr. Alistair?"

"Somewhere to end the pain quickly." His voice cracked. "Pills. A car. Anything."

Stella analyzed fast. "No meds here. Few cars..."

Labored breathing filled the line.

"Mr. Alistair, are you okay?"

"Fine." Hoarse. "Just imagining if you left me—"

"Is there water nearby?" he suddenly asked.

The director gasped. "Yes! A creek to the east!"

"Go!" His voice broke. "Now!"

Joy sprinted ahead.

Stella and the director followed.

The elderly director lagged. Stella's post-surgery lungs burned with each breath.

"Oliver!"

Joy's scream pierced the air.

Stella arrived to find Joy soaked, kneeling beside Oliver's motionless body.

"Stella... he..." Joy trembled.

Stella checked for breath.

Faint.

"Call an ambulance!"

She dropped to her knees, interlacing her hands over Oliver's tiny chest.

The director wept. "Such a sin... this poor child..."

Oliver coughed violently, water spraying from his lips.

"He's alive! He's alive!"