Chapter 392

"The assets will be divided equally among the three children."

The words cut through Vincent Atlante's fake smile like a knife.

The mountain wind howled. Stella Valentine shivered involuntarily, wrapping her arms around herself. Her heart pounded so hard it threatened to burst from her chest.

Vincent's eyes darkened. "I knew you wouldn't give in so easily."

Adrian Roland's lips curved slightly. "Likewise. You claim not to care about the money, yet your true colors show when you can't get it."

"Twins are fascinating." Vincent's grin turned vicious. "You share memories but can't hide your greed."

Adrian glanced at the distant woods. "Is that the grave you picked for me?"

"Do you like it? Scenic, with a view of the stars." Vincent spread his arms theatrically. "Considerate of me, isn't it?"

"Nice spot. Just too remote."

"What, you'd prefer to die downtown?"

"Don't you want the world to know Vincent Atlante existed before you kill me?"

Vincent threw his head back in laughter. "Of course! But the scene might be too bloody for children."

Adrian only smiled faintly.

Suddenly, Vincent's expression shifted back to casual indifference. "Since you're here, stay for dinner." He yanked Stella to his side. "Make your brother-in-law a proper last meal."

Stella stood frozen.

"Daydreaming?" Vincent tightened his grip on her shoulder.

Adrian's low voice cut in. "Go ahead. Make something simple. Be careful not to burn yourself."

"You've been smoking." Stella's question came out abruptly.

Adrian sniffed his sleeve. "The wind should've blown the scent away by now."

"It's your voice..." She trailed off.

That rough yet tender tone—it sounded just like Mr. Alistair.

"Sorry. I promised I'd quit." His smile was bitter.

Stella remembered the cigarette butts under the streetlamp at the Roland estate. She knew Adrian too well. If he was sending her away, he had something important to discuss with Vincent.

But she worried about his injuries.

"It's fine." His gaze softened.

Vincent studied them with narrowed eyes. "Flirting right in front of me? Yesterday you claimed to love me. Changed your mind already?"

"My feelings for him died long ago." Stella's voice was ice. "Adrian, leave. I won't cook for you. I don't want to see you again."

"Do you really love him?" Adrian's voice trembled.

"Even if it's not him, it would never be you." She turned away. "Just give Vincent his share. The children only need yours."

Vincent hauled her against him roughly. "Not cooking for the CEO? At least make something for your man." He dragged her toward the cottage. "Wait here, Mr. Roland."

Back inside, Stella braced for violence—but Vincent pulled a coil of rope from the kitchen.

"Tying me up again?" She stepped back.

"Want Adrian to live?" Vincent's eyes gleamed.

Her chest tightened. "What do you mean?"

"You die. He lives." He toyed with the rope. "Nothing hurts more than losing the one you love. Your act earlier was decent, but not enough. Only your death will haunt him forever."

"You're insane."

"Insanely brilliant." Vincent began counting down. "Thirty seconds. Choose."

"That grove of trees..." Realization dawned. "You're going to burn him alive?"

"With his broken leg, he can't run." Vincent smirked. "Even if you call the police now, he'll be ashes before the fire trucks arrive."

Stella nodded slowly. "Same for me. Too late for help. He'll have to watch me die."

"Smart. But I'm democratic. If you refuse, I won't force—"

"I'll go."

Vincent blinked. "You're sure?"

Stella extended her wrists. "I'm a cancer patient. Relapse could happen anytime. Adrian's different. Thousands rely on him for their livelihoods. His grandfather is waiting."

"Last chance—"

"Tie me."