Chapter 250

Stella Valentine tightened her grip around the wooden box in her arms, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"What's inside...?"

She shook her head slightly, her eyelashes glistening with unshed tears. "Please don't ask."

Victor Valence ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Fine, fine. I won't ask. Just—don't cry, okay? I can't handle women crying... Where do you need to go? You look terrible. Should I take you back to the hotel?"

"Can you take me to Mount Rainier?"

"Now?" His eyes widened as he stared at the box. "With that?"

"Yes."

His tone softened. "Why don't we go back and leave it first? The mountain roads are rough. If it gets damaged—"

"I'll hold it tight."

"...Whatever. Get in the car."

"I want to go to the summit."

"Now? It'll be dark by the time we get there!"

Darkness was exactly what she needed.

Stella nodded. "Now."

She cradled the box with both hands while Victor fumbled with her helmet. The young Valence heir had never done this before—the buckle refused to fasten, making him sweat with frustration.

"If I'd known chasing you would be this troublesome," he finally managed to secure the clasp and exhaled in relief, "I'd have stayed single forever."

Stella simply looked at him in silence.

Victor's ears turned red as he hastily explained, "I just thought... raising kids alone must be hard. Being an instant dad doesn't sound bad—stop looking at me like that!"

"I don't need pity," Stella murmured. "This was my choice."

He smacked his own mouth in frustration. "That's not what I meant... After meeting your two kids last time, I suddenly wanted to be a father. Understand?"

Her gaze remained distant, all her focus on the wooden box in her arms.

"Never mind," Victor sighed. "Mount Rainier it is."

By the time they reached the summit, dusk had fallen.

Winter nights came early in Houston. Just past seven, darkness had already swallowed everything around them. Thick clouds blotted out any trace of stars.

After parking, Victor found Stella crouched nearby, digging into the earth with her bare hands. The precious wooden box sat beside her, now smeared with dirt.

He rushed over and grabbed her wrist. "Are you insane? A designer's hands shouldn't be digging in dirt!"

Stella looked up blankly. "I remember a big tree being here..."

"Probably blew down in a storm." Victor pulled her up forcefully. "What are you trying to do?"

"Find a place..."

"What place?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

Victor snatched the box. "Let's see what's so precious!"

The moment he tore open the wrapping, he froze.

A black urn.

"Is this... Mr. Alistair?"

"No." Her eyes were hollow. "I don't know where he's buried."

"But you two were—"

"Uncle Xavier said," she smiled bitterly, "if I had any conscience left, I wouldn't disturb him."

Victor fell silent.

If not Mr. Alistair, then who?

Her father died young, her mother was alive and well, the children were safe and sound...

Stella knelt beside the urn and pressed a light kiss to it. The wind howled too loudly—he only caught fragments: "Daddy"... "Stella"...

Victor found some branches and quickly dug a small pit.

"Should we put up a marker?"

"No need." She smoothed the last handful of earth over the spot. "This is enough."

Victor stared at the undisturbed ground and finally asked, "Who was he?"