Chapter 387

"Adoptive mother?" Vincent Atlante sneered, downing the last gulp of chicken soup. "More accurately, my buyer. She paid fifty grand for me. If not for her, Victor Lefèvre wouldn't have sold me for quick cash. I should've been a Roland heir—living in luxury instead of suffering."

Stella Valentine remained silent.

"Think I'm ungrateful? She did raise me as her own."

Stella pressed her lips together before asking, "Is this your home?"

"Yeah." Vincent wiped his mouth. "Deep in the mountains. Hard to find. Even Adrian Roland's influence means nothing here."

"The police will come eventually."

"I know." A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes. "That's why we're on a tight schedule."

Her chest tightened. "The hotel proposal benefits everyone—"

"Half the Roland fortune would last me lifetimes, but I've changed my mind." His grin turned feral. "Stay put. Once I'm done, the cops will collect you."

"You still want revenge?"

"Obviously. Pity Adrian couldn't care less about money." He leaned in, venom dripping from his gaze. "His weakness—is you."

That look—like a viper's tongue flickering—made her skin crawl.

"Hurting you is the only way to break him."

She instinctively hugged herself. "What are you planning?"

"Scared? You played brave so well at the hotel." His laugh was icy. "No wonder Adrian developed dissociative identity disorder over you."

"...You won't kill me."

"Wanna bet?" He licked his lips. "Imagine his reaction seeing your severed limbs. Would he snap completely?" Mad laughter erupted from him. "Can't wait."

Stella's face drained of color.

This man had nothing left to lose.

"Eat up. Disgusting as it is, might be your last meal."

The door slammed behind him.

Only his frail adoptive mother remained, gesturing apologetically for her son's behavior.

Stella steadied herself against the wall, finally taking in the cramped space.

A single bed dominated the dirt-floored shack. Piled necessities left no room for personal touches—clearly Vincent's domain.

Across the way, a smaller room reeked of medicinal herbs.

A skeletal old woman coughed violently upon seeing her. "Vincent's wife?"

The adoptive mother nodded vigorously, giving a thumbs-up.

"Sweetheart, what's your name? Not many city girls come to these mountains."

"...Stella."

"Lovely!" The old woman's clouded eyes gleamed. "You weren't trafficked here, were you?"

"We...know each other."

"Good!" She exhaled in relief. "My boy's made it big in the city!"

Stella said nothing.

"We're on borrowed time. Just want to see him settled before—"

BANG!

The door flew open.

"Who said you could come in here?"