Chapter 251

Stella Valentine remained silent.

It wasn't that she refused to answer—she simply didn't know how to begin.

The mountain wind suddenly turned violent. Fat raindrops pelted down, stinging against exposed skin.

Victor Valence yanked her onto his motorcycle and swiftly fastened her helmet. "This storm isn't normal. We need to get down now."

"Wait—"

"Wait for what? Do you have any idea how dangerous mountain roads are in the rain? At this altitude, if lightning strikes—"

Boom—

A bolt of lightning split the night sky, followed by deafening thunder.

Without another word, Victor pulled her tight against him and revved the engine, speeding down the treacherous slope.

The downpour became a deluge. The slick roads made the descent agonizingly slow. By the time they found shelter, both were drenched to the bone.

Victor studied Stella's face—her pallid complexion, her tightly pressed lips.

He seized her shoulders. "Stella, what's really going on? You were fine two days ago. Then that package arrived and you've been a ghost of yourself ever since. Who is this person?"

Stella shook her head. "I don't know her name."

"You don't know?"

"No."

"How can you grieve for someone whose name you don't even know?"

Stella lifted her face, wet strands clinging to her cheeks. "Victor, promise me you won't tell anyone about today."

"Are you cold?"

"Promise me."

"I asked if you're cold!"

"...Yes."

Victor glared. "Good. At least you can still feel something." He exhaled sharply. "Relax, I'm not a gossip. There's a convenience store over there. Stay here while I get something hot."

Stella gave a faint nod.

Victor cast one last worried glance before sprinting into the rain.

The store shelves were nearly empty. Victor grabbed random snacks and a disposable cup, insisting the clerk fill it with boiling water.

Through the curtain of rain, he saw Stella standing with her back to him under the awning.

Her slender frame looked heartbreakingly fragile against the storm.

She'd removed her soaked jacket. The white blouse clung to her body, revealing every sharp angle of her underweight form.

Boom—

Another thunderclap shook the ground.

Stella dropped into a crouch, arms wrapped around herself like a terrified child.

Victor's chest constricted. He ran.

......

"Little Star, when will you marry me?"

"Later." She didn't look up from her design sketches.

Adrian Roland knelt beside her, blocking the drafting table. "I'll give you anything you want."

She pouted. "I want a star."

He emptied his pockets of star-shaped candies. "They're all yours."

"These are fake. I want a real one."

"So if I get you a real star, you'll marry me?"

She tilted her chin up. "Liar. How would you even catch a star?"

"As long as you never leave me, I can—"

The memory shattered.

A new vision took its place—Stella stumbling through a storm, barefoot and bleeding, clutching a bloodied infant bundle: "Save her...please..."

Boom—

The thunder rattled the windows.

Adrian jolted awake, his pajamas soaked with sweat.

The nightmare felt horrifyingly real. He remembered her wearing that floral sundress now stained crimson. The baby's swaddle dripping red, rivulets running down Stella's slender arms onto her bare feet...

This was the first night in five years he'd slept in their marital bed.

The empty mansion. The king-sized mattress where Stella had slept alone for half a decade.

Stella...

Adrian froze.

Thunder.

Little Star was terrified of thunderstorms!

He leaped up, grabbing car keys—then halted at the doorway.

Did he even have the right to go to her?

Her heart already belonged to another. She probably never wanted to see him again.

And if she did? Only because his build and smoky voice resembled Mr. Alistair's.

Adrian gave a bitter laugh and returned to bed, lighting a cigarette.

Outside, rain hammered the windows, blurring the streetlights into watery halos.

Adrian Roland—reduced to being someone's stand-in.

The cruelest joke? He'd gladly play the role if it meant being near her.

Smoke burned his lungs, triggering a coughing fit.

Even if he was willing, she wouldn't want him now.

The moment he'd handed her those divorce papers, he'd forfeited all right to protect her.

The phone's shrill ring startled him.

An unknown landline number.

"Hello?"

"Daddy!" Luna's tearful voice trembled through the receiver. "I'm scared..."

"Luna?" Adrian's grip tightened on the phone. "Where's Mommy?"

"Mommy's not here..."

"Are Grandma and Ethan with you?"

"Y-yes..." Luna's crying intensified. "Daddy, did you go fight the bad people? Did the bad people take Mommy?"

Adrian was already sprinting for the garage. "Don't cry, sweetheart. Daddy's going to get Mommy now. Put Grandma on, okay?"

Grace Laurent's exhausted voice came through. "Adrian."

"Grace, where's Stella?"

"Possibly at the police station."

"Police station?"

"You haven't seen the news today?"

He hadn't.

After last night's disastrous confrontation at Houston Grand Hotel, he'd drowned in regret all day.

Maybe he shouldn't have exposed her so bluntly.

Today he'd buried himself in work until the thunder woke him.

"Her uncle caused a scene at the company today," Grace said hoarsely. "He jumped."

"Actually jumped?"

"Yes." Grace's voice broke. "Stella was taken to the station. We haven't heard from her since. Adrian, with the children here, I can't—you're the only one in Houston I trust to—"

"I'm on my way." Adrian gunned the engine. "Don't worry. At least at the station she's safe."

"She's terrified of thunderstorms. These past years, every time it thundered she'd—"

"I know. She's been afraid since childhood."

"This is different." Grace's voice shook. "Before, having someone nearby helped. Now she shakes uncontrollably, sobbing under the blankets..."