Chapter 287

"What did you say?"

Adrian slowly closed his eyes, his voice barely audible. "Let's do as you suggested. Don't let the children distinguish between me and him."

"..."

"I understand your feelings. You want to preserve the memories of him—it's how you prove his existence. But the children are too young. After three years, they can hardly remember his face. That's why they mistake me for him."

"..."

"I'm not trying to erase his traces. I know he was good to them, and I'm grateful for that. You can trap yourself in memories, but the children still have a long life ahead."

Stella looked up. "What do you mean by 'pure'?"

"Dad loves them. Mom loves them. Grandpa, Benjamin, Grace, Joy—they all love them. It's that simple."

She pressed her lips together, silent.

"Don't forget our agreement with Grandpa. What would he think if the children found out they had two fathers?"

Stella recalled Benjamin's words—Grandpa was already suspicious.

"So, for the sake of the children and Grandpa, pretend that I'm him. Even if it's just acting, will you?"

Stella lifted her head sharply. "But before..."

"At the Houston Grand Hotel?"

"Yes." She nodded. "You were furious then."

Adrian smiled bitterly. "I never thought Adrian Roland would come to this."

"You..."

"But I'm willing." His gaze held hers. "If it means I can stay by your side, even as an actor, I'm willing."

"Then you'd just be his substitute."

"I'd cherish it."

Stella froze.

"Do I resemble him?"

"...Almost identical."

He nodded. "No wonder you often stare at my face, lost in thought."

"Has... it been that frequent?"

"Many times." His voice tightened. "You were looking at me, but I knew—you were seeing someone else through me."

Stella lowered her lashes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." He shook his head. "Last time, my pride couldn't bear being a stand-in. But today, you cooked for me, insisted on non-spicy dishes, said you'd always be a Roland... Suddenly, pride felt meaningless."

Her heart trembled.

She knew too well the taste of swallowing pride. Years ago, to save Ethan, she had knelt and begged him to come home—that humiliation was carved into her bones.

But this was Adrian Roland.

A legend in Houston's business world, a regular feature in financial magazines.

Where was his pride?

He was willing to become another man's shadow?

"If it means you'll stay, I'm willing to become him." His voice was hoarse. "I can mimic his voice, his habits, everything... I learn fast. Soon, I'll be him."

Today, he was a different man.

Humble to the core, tender beyond recognition—just like Mr. Alistair used to be.

Stella almost laughed.

Was this heaven's compensation?

Was her life heading toward some cliché happy ending?

No.

This wasn't for a perfect resolution—it was for the children and Grandpa.

Adrian seemed to read her thoughts.

"You hate when I smoke, yet you cry every time you see me with a cigarette. So his voice was raspier, wasn't it?"

"By day, you're cold to me, but that night at the hotel, you asked me to stay. Because I wore black—he liked black and the night?"

"Victor's black MV Agusta—that was his bike."

"And Mount Rainier..." His voice turned rough. "I've never been, but it meant something to you two, didn't it?"

Stella shut her eyes briefly. "Using your detective skills again?"

"It's different." His voice softened. "Before, analyzing opponents was for business. Now, analyzing him—it's for you."

"..."

"It's to keep you."

Her nose stung. "You know what? Even the way you talk is like him now."

Adrian gave a faint smile. "Maybe my heart is already moving toward his. Reason tells me to hold onto pride, but emotion has long since molded me into his image."