Chapter 431

Stella Valentine's eyes were red-rimmed the moment Joy Fairsprene walked in. Joy stomped her foot in frustration. "Why must you be so stubborn? Raising three kids alone isn't enough? You had to handle this massive funeral too? If I hadn't come, would you have worked yourself to collapse?"

The children cheered at the sight of Joy. Luna rushed over and hugged her leg, looking up with wide eyes. "Don't worry, Mommy. We'll be good for Aunt Joy."

Ethan straightened his posture like a little gentleman. "I'll watch over my sisters."

Celeste quietly adjusted her small star-patterned backpack and stood beside her siblings. Inside were the thermos and hat Stella had packed, ensuring she wouldn’t catch a chill.

Stella's eyes welled up again at the sight of her thoughtful children and devoted friend. "Thank you. I’ll leave them to you."

"Since when do we stand on ceremony?" Joy waved her off. "Go change." She wanted to ask about Adrian Roland but swallowed the question when she saw Stella's downcast expression, settling for a tight hug instead.

Stella retreated to the guest room and slipped into a black dress suit. After a moment’s hesitation, she pinned a star brooch beside the white funeral flower. It was a statement—her duty as the Roland family’s matriarch.

Passing Adrian’s room, her steps slowed instinctively. The door stood ajar, revealing an empty space with curtains drawn tight.

"Looking for me?"

His voice behind her made her jump. She turned to find Adrian already dressed in a black suit, a white flower pinned to his lapel.

"It’s time to go." His tone was as casual as if discussing the weather.

Stella opened her mouth but only nodded silently. As she brushed past him, a faint trace of gardenia lingered in the air.

In the nursery, Joy had dressed the children. Luna and Celeste wore black dresses, while Ethan looked like a miniature version of Adrian in his tiny suit.

Stella’s breath caught at the resemblance. Kneeling, she adjusted their collars. "Let’s go."

Reporters swarmed outside the funeral home. Benjamin Langley wrung his hands. "Miss Stella, these journalists—"

"Let them take their pictures." Stella’s voice was steady. "Better to face them openly than hide." She turned to Joy. "The children are in your care."

The moment the car door opened, camera flashes erupted. A reporter shouted, "Mrs. Roland, why isn’t your husband attending his grandfather’s funeral? Rumors suggest—"

"Today is about honoring Grandpa." Stella’s calm gaze swept the crowd. "My husband and I are united in grief. Who attends makes no difference. Show some respect for the departed."

She moved through the throng with grace, the hem of her black dress swaying elegantly. The unspoken authority in her demeanor silenced the restless press.

Inside, an elderly man placed flowers before the portrait and sighed. "I was supposed to play chess with Old Mr. Roland..."

Stella handed him a handkerchief. "Grandpa wouldn’t hold it against you."

"You’re both good kids." He patted her hand. "Tell Adrian not to grieve too deeply. The Rolands still need him..."

Her fingers trembled slightly, but she maintained her smile. "I’ll pass that along."

In the corners, business elites had already shifted from mourning to networking. Unnoticed in the shadows, Adrian stood by the window, watching his grandfather’s portrait and Stella’s composed figure. His Adam’s apple bobbed with suppressed emotion.