Chapter 380

Vincent Atlante's eyes gleamed with madness, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. "Be a good girl, Miss Valentine. Cooperate, and I promise not to hurt you."

Stella Valentine gasped as sharp pain shot through her wrist.

Never before had she felt the sheer disparity in strength between men and women so viscerally. His grip was like an iron vise, crushing her delicate bones.

"Does it hurt?" Vincent taunted, snapping photos of her pained expression with his phone. "The more you suffer, the more Adrian will ache for you."

"Just tell him what you want. He'll agree."

"Not necessarily." His laugh was icy. "The Roland fortune is far vaster than you imagine. You grew up pampered, Miss Valentine. You don't understand the value of money. To me, every cent is life itself—and I won't let anyone take what's rightfully mine!"

With sudden violence, he hurled her onto the bed.

Though the mattress softened the impact, the ropes had already scraped her wrists raw. Blood seeped through.

As he tightened the restraints, Vincent propped his phone on the dresser at the foot of the bed.

The camera angle captured the entire scene.

Stella's heart plummeted.

While he adjusted the phone, she inched toward the headboard.

She knew this bedroom well.

The sofa at the foot of the bed—just beside it was the house phone!

Vincent whirled around.

She lunged for the phone but was yanked back by the ropes, stumbling.

"Trying to call for help?" His sinister voice slithered behind her.

Gritting her teeth, she threw herself forward—her fingertips brushed the receiver.

"Room 1231! I'm being—"

CRASH!

Vincent ripped the phone from her grasp and smashed it against the floor.

Shards of plastic scattered.

Crouching, he seized her chin with freezing fingers. "Try that again, Miss Valentine, and I can't guarantee you'll leave here in one piece."

This face—identical to Adrian's—now filled her with terror.

Adrian's anger burned hot. But this man's gaze was glacial.

"Uncle Xavier was right," Vincent sneered, tightening his grip. "Women are born actresses. One moment, you're the devoted lover. The next, you betray without hesitation."

Stella choked as he forced her head back. "You...lied to me first..."

"So what?" His smirk was merciless. "The ends justify the means."

"Mr. Alistair would never be this vile!"

"Exactly why I'm not him." His fingers dug deeper. "Do you think Adrian is some saint? How many companies has he swallowed? How many families has he ruined? Compared to him, I've only deceived one person—you."

Tears streaked down her cheeks.

"Crying?" He released her, rubbing her tears between his fingers. "Perfect. Let Adrian see this."

DING-DONG.

The doorbell rang.

"Miss Valentine? Did you call for assistance?" A waiter's voice carried through the door.

Stella opened her mouth to scream—

Vincent clamped a hand over her lips. "Make a sound," he whispered against her ear, "and I'll strip you naked for the camera."

She froze.

She couldn't drag Adrian into this.

Those photos could never see the light of day.

"Scared?" Vincent smirked, releasing her. "Stay put."

He strode to the door.

"Mr. Roland?" The waiter blinked in surprise. "The front desk received a distress call from Miss Valentine—"

"We were playing a game." Vincent flashed a charming smile. "She lost. The penalty was faking a kidnapping."

Recognizing the face of Houston's most powerful tycoon, the waiter instantly relaxed. "Ah, I see. You two are quite the playful couple."

"Aren't we?"

"At the birthday gala last week, you and Miss Valentine looked absolutely made for each other!"

A shadow flickered in Vincent's eyes. "Thank you."

"Shall I have the phone repaired?"

"No need." His tone turned dismissive. "We'd prefer privacy."

"Of course. Enjoy your evening."

As the door clicked shut, Stella's hope shattered.