Chapter 410

The diary entries grew shorter toward the end. Some pages contained only simple heart and smiley face doodles, yet they conveyed Stella Valentine's joy more vividly than any words. Adrian Roland's fingertips lightly traced the yellowed pages, as if he could still feel the warmth of those long-ago moments.

The final page held just one line: Adrian gave me a new diary. How wonderful.

He stared at those words for a long time. So she had truly loved him once.

Since that day, though they lived under the same roof, they moved like parallel lines—never intersecting. Meal times were deliberately staggered, and even the children's carefully orchestrated attempts to leave them alone together only resulted in polite, empty exchanges.

"Mommy, it's your turn to tell Daddy to go to bed," Luna said, counting on her chubby fingers. "Ethan went the day before yesterday, I went yesterday, and Celeste went today."

All three children gazed at her with hopeful eyes.

Stella stroked her daughter's hair. "Mommy can't right now—"

"You're lying!" Luna's eyes suddenly welled up. "You stand outside Daddy's door every night!"

Stella's heart clenched.

She was still hesitating, hand raised mid-knock, when the study door swung open. Adrian's wheelchair stopped at the threshold, the light casting shadows across his sharply defined features.

"Did you need something?" His voice was flat.

"The children said you weren't asleep yet..." Stella twisted the hem of her shirt. "I was a little worried."

Adrian's gaze dropped to her whitened knuckles. "I was making arrangements for Grandfather's funeral."

The words landed like a stone in water. Stella's throat tightened. "I'm sorry."

"Go get some rest." He turned his wheelchair. "The days ahead will be busy."

The door closed softly, but the sound cut like a knife.

The funeral was scheduled for the weekend. The memorial was set up in the old estate's garden, white drapes fluttering in the breeze. Ethan ran off to help Benjamin Langley arrange flowers, while Luna and Celeste stayed with their mother to review the guest list.

"The master loved hearing the young misses recite poetry," Benjamin murmured, wiping his eyes.

Stella's pen stilled, leaving a small ink blot on the paper. She remembered Edward Roland's trembling grip as he lay dying, his whispered plea: "Take care of Adrian for me."

She had nodded through tears that day—and failed to keep her promise.

"Mommy?" Celeste tugged her sleeve. "How do you pronounce this character?"

Stella blinked, realizing her daughter was pointing at the name of Edward's dearest friend. It struck her then—this funeral wasn't just a farewell. It was a witness to the chasm between her and Adrian.