Chapter 370

"Who were you calling?"

Stella Valentine quickly hid her phone behind her back and rushed out of the master bedroom.

The open door to the living room gave her a sliver of relief.

At least here, the hotel staff might hear her if she screamed. The presidential suite, once her safest haven, had become the most dangerous cage.

"The hospital," she said, her voice tight. "Celeste just had surgery."

Vincent Atlante strolled out leisurely, hands in his pockets, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "She has doctors and nurses. What are you worried about?"

Stella pressed her lips together, silent.

She edged closer to the door, discreetly silencing her phone before dialing the number again.

Still no answer.

Just two days ago, he'd promised to be available anytime. Now, there was only silence.

Her phone vibrated suddenly.

"Mom?"

"Stella, where are you?" Grace Laurent's voice came through. "I came straight from the airport to see Celeste. Where are you and Adrian?"

Stella nearly sagged with relief. "I'll be right there!"

"Tell Adrian to drive carefully."

After hanging up, she forced calm into her voice. "Mr. Alistair, my mother is back."

Vincent toyed with his phone, amused. "In such a hurry to leave?"

"My mom is waiting—"

"Fine. I'll take you." He stood. "I’ll be seeing her tomorrow anyway."

Stella clenched her fists. "Wait!"

"Hmm?"

"You can't meet my mother empty-handed."

He frowned. "What does she like?"

"Lilies." She gestured toward the door. "There’s a florist across from the hotel."

The moment Vincent left, a chill ran down Stella’s spine.

Julian Valois’ warning echoed in her ears.

When the elevator doors opened, she almost screamed.

"Why weren’t you answering your phone?" She exhaled sharply.

Adrian Roland’s gaze burned into her. "Where is he?"

"It's a long story. Let’s just go."

"Where?"

"The old house."

Adrian’s expression darkened. "You—"

"Do you have a car?"

"A motorcycle." His eyes swept over her, lingering on her untouched clothes before dimming slightly.

The elevator descended to the underground garage.

Stella scanned the area frantically for the bike, then turned to find Adrian limping badly.

"What’s wrong?"

"Nothing."

Only then did she notice his left arm was free of its cast, his face deathly pale.

"Where’s your cast?"

"Removed it."

"Are you insane?" She steadied him as he swayed. "Our daughter needs you—"

"Stella." His voice was weak. "Call a cab. I can’t ride like this."

Under the harsh hospital lights, the doctor’s face turned grim. "Prep for emergency treatment!"

Adrian, drenched in sweat, slumped against her, barely conscious. "Don’t..."

"It’s just a broken arm..." Stella’s voice shook.

"Just an arm?" The doctor snapped. "He has multiple fractures and internal bleeding! Any later and he’d be dead!"

"How—"

"Who are you to him?" the doctor demanded impatiently.

A nurse gasped. "That’s Mr. Roland and Mrs. Roland!"