Chapter 399

The hospital door creaked open with a soft knock.

A middle-aged doctor in gold-rimmed glasses entered, freezing when he recognized the figure on the bed. "Mr. Roland?"

Adrian looked up. "Dr. Lowell."

"How did you—" The doctor hurried closer, scanning the bandages covering Adrian's body. "Last week's financial news showed you and Ms. Valentine at a charity gala. It's only been days—"

"Which hospital is this?" Adrian interrupted.

"Psychiatric wing of Houston Central."

Adrian smirked. "No wonder it's familiar. Three years ago, I came here for therapy."

Dr. Lowell adjusted his glasses. "The police requested a psychiatric evaluation. They said the suspect might be mentally ill. Mr. Roland, has your condition... relapsed?"

"I just need to confirm something." Adrian turned to the window.

The sterile scent of disinfectant hung heavy in the silence.

Two hours later.

Dr. Lowell stared at the test results, brow furrowed.

"Well?" Adrian's voice was eerily calm.

"Professionally, I shouldn't say this..." The doctor took a deep breath. "But your results show no traces of bipolar disorder. Your mental state is more stable than an average person's."

Adrian chuckled. "So?"

"This means you'll face criminal charges—kidnapping, theft, and more." Dr. Lowell lowered his voice. "Minimum ten-year sentence."

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting fractured shadows across the bed.

Adrian suddenly remembered the night Luna moved back to the old house. For the first time in years, he'd slept through the night. The nightmares, the manic depression, the suicidal urges—all vanished as if by magic.

"Dr. Lowell, I remember everything now."

"What?"

"The other personality's memories." Adrian tapped the bedrail. "How I hurt her. And those three months."

The doctor shot to his feet. "That's impossible! The memory barrier between alters is—"

"The car crash." Adrian cut him off. "I recreated our worst accident. First attempt failed, so I tried again. And again..."

His gaze dropped to the cast on his right leg.

Dr. Lowell inhaled sharply. "These injuries..."

The room plunged into silence.

"Too bad remembering changes nothing." Adrian suddenly laughed. "She'd rather claim an imposter as her husband."

The doctor recalled the loving couple from the financial news. "But at the birthday banquet, you two seemed—"

"Convincing performance, wasn't it?" Adrian's eyes turned glacial. "The audience bought it."

A pen hovered over the diagnosis form.

"Should I... contact Ms. Valentine? Explain the truth?" Dr. Lowell ventured. "Prove you're really—"

"She knows." Adrian's voice cracked. "Fourteen years. Over two thousand days. How could she mistake me?"

Understanding dawned on the doctor. "So when she identified you as Adrian Roland, she meant to..."

"Let me take Vincent's place in prison." Adrian stared at the ceiling. "Fair enough. I owe her that."

The sunlight burned his eyes.

The girl who used to smile at him with dimples was truly gone.

The door burst open.

Vincent rushed in, nearly knocking over Dr. Lowell.

"Mr. Roland! I just got the police report—"

"Fingerprint analysis?" Adrian said calmly. "Don't bother."

Vincent's eyes reddened. "But the contract clearly has your—"

"She wants me locked up." Adrian whispered. "Let her have this."

Outside, plane tree leaves spiraled downward.

Just like years ago, when a ponytailed girl hopped through golden leaves.