Chapter 34

Darkness enveloped the room.

Stella Valentine could only hear the faint clinking of bowls and spoons from across the table.

The man skillfully ladled two bowls of chicken soup and took his seat opposite her.

The rich aroma of the soup was especially enticing in the darkness.

"First time eating completely blind?" His voice carried a hint of amusement.

Stella nodded softly. "Yes."

"It tastes wonderful," he took a sip, "feels like home."

"I learned it from the old gardener at my family home," Stella replied gently. "Her wontons were especially delicious, but I only picked up the basics."

"It's already perfect," his voice softened like water. "I love it."

"Thank you, Mr. Alistair."

"How many times is that now?"

Stella froze.

The words felt eerily familiar.

Hugo Merovingian had said the exact same thing to her before.

"Mr. Alistair..." she ventured cautiously, "have we met before?"

He didn’t answer.

In the darkness, she could only hear his steady breathing.

"Your divorce didn’t go through today?" He abruptly changed the subject.

"No," Stella’s voice dropped. "He said something urgent came up at work."

"Work," he chuckled. "The most common excuse men use."

Stella tightened her grip on the spoon. "I don’t understand... He was so eager to divorce before."

"Maybe he changed his mind."

"Why?"

"Only he knows."

Stella recalled Adrian Roland’s words on the phone.

He said he didn’t want her to be with anyone else.

How laughable.

Who would want a terminally ill single mother with lung cancer?

"How’s your mother doing?" he asked again.

"Much better." Stella instinctively started to thank him but caught herself.

He let out a quiet laugh. "Just as I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"You remind me of someone I knew," his voice grew somber. "She was just like this—gentle yet stubborn."

Stella hesitated. "Did that person... ever marry?"

"Yes."

"Then..." she chose her words carefully, "sometimes letting go is its own kind of love."

He set down his bowl. "Are you giving me advice?"

"I’m just..." Stella smiled bitterly, "speaking from experience. Holding on doesn’t mean anything."

"Like with Adrian?"

"Yes," her voice was barely audible. "If love isn’t there, you can’t force it."

A long silence followed.

"Drink your soup," was all he finally said.

Stella knew persuasion was futile.

Just as no one could convince her back then.

"Next weekend," he suddenly spoke up, "keep your schedule clear."

"Is something happening?"

"We’re going back to the Valentine estate."

Stella’s hand trembled. "What’s the point now? The Valentines are already—"

"Trust me," his voice was firm. "Every wrong done to you, I’ll make right."

......

The Valentine mansion blazed with light.

Lily Savigny handed a carefully wrapped gift to Sophia Durand. "Happy birthday, Mom."

"My sweet girl," Sophia smiled as she accepted it. "How are things with Adrian?"

Lily’s expression stiffened. "It’s... not settled yet."

"I thought once Stella—"

"She had surgery. She won’t be dying anytime soon," Lily tugged irritably at her fur stole. "And Adrian’s been acting strange lately."

Sophia narrowed her eyes. "Don’t tell me he still has feelings for—"

"I think so," Lily bit her lip. "He keeps bringing up the car accident six years ago. Like he suspects something."

Sophia’s face darkened. "Those two cars—"

"Were taken care of long ago," Lily said sharply. "Crushed to scrap. Probably melted down by now."

"Good." Sophia patted her daughter’s hand. "The main issue now is that child—"

At the mention of the child, Lily’s eyes flashed with venom. "He treats it like some treasure. Won’t even let me near it."

"Don’t worry," Sophia smirked. "I have a plan."

Outside by the pool, a tower of champagne glasses glittered under the lights.

Lily stood at the entrance, scanning the driveway.

Finally, the familiar Maybach rolled into view.

"Adrian!" She rushed forward eagerly.

The car door opened.

Adrian stepped out, his long legs unfolding.

Then the opposite door swung open—

Twilight descended as city lights began to glow.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the bustling street below. My fingers absently traced the screen of my phone.

A single unread message glowed on the display. The sender: "Mr. Lu."

"8 PM. Room 808, Imperial Heights Hotel."

Twelve simple words that made my pulse skyrocket.

After that incident three months ago, I thought my connection with Lu Chenzhou had ended. Yet here he was, reaching out first.

I took a deep breath and checked my watch—7:40 PM.

Without another thought, I grabbed my coat and rushed out.

Outside Room 808, I raised my hand to ring the bell but found the door slightly ajar.

Pushing it open, I stepped into the dimly lit suite.

Lu Chenzhou stood with his back to me at the window, his tall frame silhouetted against the neon skyline.

"Close the door." His command came without turning.

I shut it behind me, my heart pounding.

"Mr. Lu, you wanted to see—"

Before I could finish, he spun around and pinned my wrist against the wall.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" His voice was low, dangerous.

I tilted my head back to meet his gaze, breath catching.

"I haven't—"

"Liar." His free hand gripped my chin. "Three months, seven days. Three new phone numbers. Two different apartments."

My eyes widened. He'd been tracking my every move.

"Mr. Lu, that night was just a mista—"

"Mistake?" He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Then tell me why your body still remembers me."

A shiver ran through me as his fingers trailed down my neck.

"Tonight," he murmured, voice rough, "I want the truth."

Outside, lightning split the sky.

The storm was coming.