Chapter 429

Stella Valentine was organizing meeting materials when the office door burst open.

Her head snapped up, fingers already hovering over the speed dial button.

Vincent Atlante swaggered in, his tailored suit failing to conceal his inherent vulgarity. He loosened his tie with a careless flick, smirking. "My dear sister-in-law, all alone? Where's my crippled brother?"

She set down her pen, gaze glacial. "You're not welcome here."

"Tsk, so cold." Vincent dropped into the chair opposite her, dress shoes propped on the conference table. "I came specially to visit my brother. Heard his legs..." He deliberately drew out the pause, "...are useless now?"

Stella shot to her feet, sending documents scattering across the floor.

"Get out." Her quiet voice carried steel.

Vincent spread his hands theatrically. "No need for hysterics. Actually, I should thank you. If you hadn't sent Adrian to prison, I wouldn't be enjoying this lifestyle." He leaned closer. "Everything that should've been mine from the start."

Stella's stomach churned at his features—identical to Adrian's yet repulsive.

"You're unworthy." Her laugh was brittle. "Grandfather gave you chances. You destroyed them yourself."

Vincent's face darkened. He slammed both palms on the table. "Spare me the sanctimony! The Rolands owe me, and I'll collect every last cent!" His expression shifted to leering. "Since Adrian's broken goods now, why not switch to me? We look the same. I don't mind being an instant father."

Stella hurled her coffee at him.

Brown liquid dripped down his expensive suit. Wiping his face, he chuckled. "Spicy. I like that."

"What do you want?" Stella clenched her fists. "Money? Shares? Or just to watch Adrian suffer?"

Vincent adjusted his cuffs with deliberate slowness. "Simple—everything." His eyes narrowed. "Including what the old man confessed before dying."

Stella's breath hitched.

That secret had haunted her. Vincent alone had been present during Edward Roland's final moments. While others dismissed the patriarch's ramblings, she'd always suspected Vincent withheld something.

"Name your price." She met his gaze squarely. "Tell me Grandfather's last words, and I'll meet any condition."

Vincent threw back his head in laughter that echoed through the empty room. Suddenly he seized her wrist, grip painfully tight.

"The old man said..." His breath scorched her ear, "...to give me the Roland empire. And you—"

"Lies!" Stella shoved him away violently.

Staggering back, Vincent smirked. "Don't believe me? Ask him yourself." He straightened his collar. "Oh wait—corpses can't talk."

As Stella glared, she noticed his pupils dilating.

"You're afraid." She advanced step by step. "Vincent Atlante, you've got a guilty conscience."

The air thickened.

Vincent's smirk faded. Lighting a cigarette, his trembling fingers betrayed him through the smoke.

"Three days." He exhaled sharply. "Bring me 20% of New Frontier Group's shares, and I'll reveal the old man's final words."

Stella scoffed. "You expect me to trust you?"

"Suit yourself." Vincent turned toward the door, pausing midstride. "But miss this chance, and you'll never know... how you really killed the old man."

The door clicked shut. Stella's legs buckled, hands braced against the table.

She would uncover the truth.