Chapter 21

"Hugo, I need to ask you a favor."

Hugo Merovingian set down his documents, giving her his full attention. "Go ahead."

"Take Ethan back to the U.S."

His brows furrowed slightly. "Why this sudden decision?"

Stella Valentine turned to the window. Sunlight filtered through the glass, casting dappled shadows across her pale face. "My time is running out. It's better he has fewer memories than watch his mother fade away."

"Stella, that's too cruel for a child."

She shook her head gently, fingers absently tracing the hem of her hospital gown.

Cruel?

Compared to letting her son face Lily Savigny's schemes, this was the gentlest choice.

Besides, that man had never shown Ethan an ounce of fatherly love.

"The sooner, the better."

The day Ethan left, dark clouds hung oppressively low.

Stella stood by the window until the last wisp of cloud vanished from the sky.

A nurse entered. "Miss Valentine, it's time for your dressing change."

As the bandage peeled away, she sucked in a sharp breath.

"The wound is healing well," the nurse said gently. "You can cry out if it hurts."

"Can I have some painkillers?"

The nurse hesitated. "I'll consult the doctor. But we must monitor the dosage."

When the pill bottle landed in her palm, Stella counted them—twenty.

Enough to last until her plan was complete.

"Let's proceed with the dressing change," she said suddenly, tucking the bottle into the drawer. "I can bear this much pain."

The phone rang abruptly.

"Miss, your mother's condition has worsened—"

Stella's fingers clenched. "What's wrong with Grace?"

"You should come see her immediately."

She grabbed her coat, slipping two pills into her bag.

The iron gates of the Valentine estate had been replaced.

The once star-adorned wrought iron now bore gaudy gilt roses.

"You've finally returned," an elderly servant whispered. "Madame Grace was moved to the guest room."

Muffled sobs echoed from the end of the hallway.

When the door opened, the musty air assaulted her.

"Mom..."

The figure on the bed stirred weakly. "Little star?"

Stella bit her lip hard.

Her elegant mother had withered to skin and bones.

"Don't let your uncle hear," Grace Laurent grasped her daughter's hand anxiously. "It will upset him."

"This is our home!" Stella's voice trembled.

Grace shook her head. "Don't speak of such things. Have you...made up with Adrian?"

"We're doing well." Stella forced a smile. "We just had a baby girl. I'll bring her to see you next time."

A faint light flickered in her mother's clouded eyes.

Stella turned away, nails digging into her palms.

This lie was the last comfort she could give.