Chapter 225

Wendy froze.

She never expected Adrian to call her by that affectionate nickname.

His tall frame loomed over her, the sharp angles of his profile deepening under the lights. The blend of cologne and faint tobacco on him made her pulse quicken inexplicably.

"Don't worry about me. Your work comes first."

"Have you picked a wedding dress yet?"

"Not yet..." She hesitated. "When did you start smoking? I remember Dad saying you didn't."

"Quit before." His voice was low. "Work's been stressful lately. Just an occasional one."

"Your cologne... smells nice."

"Eau de Cologne." He answered curtly. "Never used to wear it. Got used to it now."

"To mask the smoke?"

"...Yeah."

Adrian's gaze darkened.

Even he found the lie laughable. Three years ago, that car crash nearly killed him. Uncle Xavier had dragged him back from death's door.

By then, Stella had already sent Lily to prison with evidence before vanishing without a trace.

When he woke, only Uncle Xavier sat by his hospital bed in a wheelchair, hair turned white overnight.

At twenty-three, Uncle Xavier saved him once.

At twenty-nine, he did it again.

Two lives. He could never repay that debt.

This cologne soothed his bipolar disorder, but did nothing for the emotions churning inside him now.

She was back.

After three years abroad with that so-called "Mr. Alistair," she'd reappeared here.

Adrian clenched his fists. The citrus scent lingered in his nose but failed to dull the ache in his chest.

He forced himself not to look at her, yet her presence filled his senses—

Footsteps.

Voice.

Even her breathing.

The corner of his mouth lifted in self-mockery.

Adrian, you're pathetic.

"Mr. Roland..." Wendy called softly, cheeks flushed. "Don't stare at me like that."

Only then did he realize his gaze had settled on her face.

Whatever.

If she'd moved on, why should he cling to the past?

"Those earrings suit you," he remarked flatly.

Wendy touched them in delight. "Bought them at a street stall for just a few dollars."

"If you like them, the price doesn't matter."

The words made her heart skip.

During their previous arranged meetings, he'd always been all business. This version of Adrian felt unfamiliar yet thrilling.

"Found a wedding dress yet?" he asked.

"Not yet..." She gathered her courage. "Could you help me choose?"

Adrian walked toward the bridal section, scanning the rows of white gowns until his eyes locked onto one.

"This one."

Wendy followed and gasped.

Pearlescent satin with blood-red floral embroidery cascading from the waist like a shower of petals.

"I want to try it!"

The clerk hesitated. "The size won't fit. We just sold an identical one yesterday."

Wendy's hand lingered on the skirt in disappointment. The dress was clearly too large for her petite frame.

"Alter it." Adrian's tone brooked no argument. "We can postpone the wedding."

"But..." Wendy bit her lip. "Could someone model it first so I can see how it looks?"

The clerk glanced around and brightened. "That lady over there would be perfect!"

Adrian followed her pointing finger and his pupils constricted.

Stella was helping a girl toward the seating area.

A girl he recognized—Penny, the secretary he'd just hired this morning.

"Mr. Roland!" Penny straightened anxiously. "I twisted my ankle, but I won't let it affect work!"

Adrian didn't respond, his gaze locked onto Stella.

"This kind lady drove Miss Wendy here," Penny explained hurriedly.

"Drove?" He scoffed. "Since when could she drive?"

Stella closed her eyes.

There was no escaping this.

For a moment earlier, she'd almost thought she saw Mr. Alistair.

Until she heard Adrian speaking to Wendy, reality crashed back.

Her Mr. Alistair had died over three years ago on that road to the airport.

No funeral. No grave.

Only Joy's choked voice on the phone: "Stella, don't cry... Julian's handling it... I'm so sorry."