Chapter 339

"It must be Adrian arriving. Grant, open the door!"

"Uncle Xavier, Mr. Roland didn't mention he was coming."

"Just do as I say!"

The door swung open violently. Grant Rubenstein and the person outside froze simultaneously.

He narrowed his eyes, a mocking smile curling his lips. "What an unexpected guest, Miss Valentine."

"I need to speak with Uncle Xavier."

"For Mr. Alistair?"

"Yes."

Grant blocked the doorway. "Then I'll have to ask if Uncle Xavier wishes to see you first."

"Tell him if he refuses, I'll make sure his retirement is anything but peaceful."

"Well, well. You've grown bolder over the years." He deliberately stepped aside. "I like that."

Stella marched inside without hesitation.

Grant pretended to stop her but let her pass. His fingers traced the curve of his cane as calculation flickered in his eyes. The murkier the water, the easier to catch the fish.

Uncle Xavier was polishing a fishing rod when footsteps approached. Without looking up, he asked, "Adrian?"

"It's me."

The old man's hands trembled. The rod clattered to the floor. "How did you find this place?"

Stella stood firm. "I'll leave after my questions are answered."

"We had an agreement. Once you secured the liver donor, you'd leave Houston."

"Afraid I'll ruin Mr. Alistair's future?"

"If you know, why ask?"

"You care so much about him—is it because of his abilities, or..." She paused. "Because you raised him yourself?"

Uncle Xavier's face darkened. "How dare you!"

"I'm more curious what kind of guardian would send someone to run over the child they raised!"

"Get out!"

"One last question." Stella took a step closer. "First—was Mr. Alistair an orphan you found?"

"...Yes."

"What name did he use in school?"

"My memory fails me in old age."

"You can't even remember a name?" Her laugh was icy. "Then what do you call him? Surely not 'Mr. Alistair' every day?"

Beads of sweat formed on Uncle Xavier's forehead. He suddenly gestured for Grant.

As Grant approached, the old man whispered, "You said he lost his memory. How could he have told this woman his name?"

Grant glanced at Stella. "She's bluffing."

Relieved, Uncle Xavier snapped, "Adrian is not Mr. Alistair!"

"But he said his name is Adrian Roland."

"Nonsense!"

A glint flashed in Stella's eyes. "Second question—you gave all your assets to Adrian. What about Mr. Alistair?"

"My property goes to whomever I choose!"

"If you picked Adrian, why tear Mr. Alistair and me apart?"

"I despise the sight of you!"

Stella smiled faintly. "Funny. At Grandpa Edward's birthday banquet today, Adrian announced I'm his wife."

Both Uncle Xavier and Grant stiffened.

"He actually..."

"Connecting all the clues, there's only one conclusion—"

"I am Mr. Alistair."

The deep voice came from the doorway.

Silhouetted against the light, Adrian Roland strode forward. His black suit accentuated his tall frame, the purple tie gleaming coldly. Only his hoarse voice differed—

"No twin brother. No sibling. Mr. Alistair is me."

Stella's breath hitched.

The furrow of his brows, his gait, even the slight lift of his hand—every mannerism matched her memories of Mr. Alistair perfectly.

Uncle Xavier turned ashen. "You..."

"Everything came back." Adrian's gaze burned. "No more acting, Uncle Xavier."