Chapter 260

Adrian Roland stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows in his top-floor office at New Frontier Group, cigarette ash crumbling between his fingers.

Meanwhile, at Shi's Jewelry, Stella Valentine faced an unprecedented crisis.

"All supply channels are cut off?" Her nails dug into her palms. "We can't even source basic melee diamonds?"

The procurement manager wiped his brow. "New Frontier has monopolized all output from African mines. They control every diamond on the market now. Either we pay their 300% markup..."

"Or?"

"Or we abandon our mounted jewelry line."

Stella slammed the folder shut, its metal clasp snapping sharply. Sunlight through the blinds cast jagged shadows across her ashen face.

"Ms. Valentine, perhaps... we could negotiate with Mr. Roland?"

Negotiate? That man was forcing her to surrender. Pressing fingers to her throbbing temple, Stella suddenly longed for Mr. Alistair's perceptive gaze that always saw through her struggles.

"Who else in Houston has inventory?"

The manager hesitated. "William Rubenstein from Zenith Industries... He stockpiled melee diamonds for watch dials last year."

The glass slipped from Stella's grip, staining the wool carpet. Memories of Mount Rainier coiled around her throat like vipers—she could almost smell that nauseating eau de cologne.

"Ms. Valentine? You look unwell—"

"I'm fine." Her voice sounded foreign. "Any other options?"

"None. Also..." He handed her a report. "After Victor Lefèvre's suicide, our return rate spiked 70%. Cash flow is..."

"Understood."

Alone in the silent office, Stella stared at the scribbled phone number, acid churning in her stomach. This time, no Mr. Alistair would descend like a savior when she entered that den of wolves.

The phone rang.

"Miss Valentine." The aged voice grated like a blunt knife on glass. "You broke our agreement."

Ice shot down her spine. "Mr. Xavier."

"I told you to leave Houston forever. Yet you returned with that child." A teacup clinked. "Clearly, her life means nothing to you."

Her nails drew blood from her palms. "You promised to save Mr. Alistair."

"Am I a physician?" Mr. Xavier's voice sharpened. "He knew the consequences when he betrayed the organization for you!"

"Then tell me," she trembled, "where is his grave?"

"His ashes were scattered on Mount Rainier."

"Show me the cremation certificate."

Dead silence. Stella's pulse roared in her ears. "You can't produce it, can you?"

"What are you implying?"

"Mr. Alistair isn't dead." Each word fell like a hammer. "You're hiding him."

Mr. Xavier's laughter oozed grotesque delight. "Stella Valentine, you truly—"

"I want proof." She cut him off. "Or I'll tear this city apart to find him."

"That little girl, Celeste," he drawled. "What if her condition suddenly deteriorated...?"

Her blood turned to ice.

"Choose." Victory dripped from his tone. "The truth, or your daughter's life?"