Chapter 412

Celeste curled up in Stella's arms, her tiny fingers clutching the hem of Stella's shirt. Too young to understand the concept of farewell, she only sensed the sorrow hanging in the air.

"Mommy, where did Grandpa go?" Luna looked up with confusion swimming in her eyes.

Stella's throat tightened. She didn’t know how to explain death. Instead, she pulled all three children closer, offering silent comfort through her warmth.

Night deepened, and a cold draft seeped through the terrace cracks. Stella removed her coat to wrap around Ethan, then cradled her daughters in her arms. Exhausted from crying, they drifted off one by one.

She hesitated, debating whether to wake them and return to their rooms, when the sound of wheels rolling across the floor startled her.

"Let me take them."

That familiar voice sent a jolt through her. She turned to see Adrian appearing behind her, his pale features silvered by moonlight.

"How did you get up here?" Her voice trembled as her gaze dropped to his cast-bound legs. The villa had no elevator, and the steep stairs must have been torture for him.

Adrian didn’t answer. He simply reached out and gathered Luna and Celeste into his arms. The children nuzzled against him, settling back into sleep almost instantly.

Stella noticed the fine beads of sweat on his forehead, the subtle tremble in his grip on the wheelchair handles. Instinctively, she moved to steady him—but withdrew her hand at the last second.

"Where's Benjamin?" she whispered.

"Asleep." Adrian adjusted the children with surprising gentleness. "You should rest."

She shook her head. "You can't handle all three alone. I—"

"I'm their father." His voice was low but firm. "This much is nothing."

Moonlight carved sharp shadows along his jawline. Stella realized how much weight he’d lost—his hospital gown hung loosely over his shoulders, the confident aura he once carried now vanished.

Her heart clenched. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was, "Call me if you need anything."

As she turned to leave, Celeste murmured in her sleep: "Daddy..."

Adrian froze. He stared down at his daughter’s face, emotions churning in his eyes. Stella quickened her steps, unable to bear the sight.

At the end of the hallway, she stopped a passing maid. "When did Benjamin return?"

"He retired right after dinner," the maid replied, puzzled. "Said his back was hurting badly."

Stella’s breath caught. So Adrian had dragged himself up those stairs alone? She spun around toward the terrace—but only darkness stared back.

Back in her room, sleep eluded her. Tree shadows danced mockingly outside her window, taunting her cowardice. Finally, she slipped out of bed, heated a glass of milk, and headed for Adrian’s room.

A sliver of light bled from beneath his door. She raised her hand to knock—then heard muffled coughing from inside.

Her fingers hovered midair, never quite touching the wood.