Chapter 451

The night was deep when Stella Valentine pushed open the heavy doors of the Roland family estate, exhaustion weighing on her shoulders.

Benjamin Langley hurried forward, pressing a finger to his lips. "The children are asleep."

Stella glanced at her watch. The hour hand pointed to ten.

"Have you eaten?" Benjamin whispered.

She shook her head. "I'll manage something quick."

"That won't do." He frowned. "There's food waiting in the kitchen."

Not wanting to wake the children, Stella hesitated. "It's fine, I—"

"No trouble at all." Benjamin smiled, cutting her off. "Everything's prepared. Just needs reheating."

Assuming the chef had left dinner for her, Stella nodded. "You should rest. I can handle it."

Benjamin yawned, his gaze flickering toward the study on the second floor where the light flickered intermittently. A knowing smile touched his lips. "Very well. Don't stay up too late."

In the kitchen, the refrigerator held neatly arranged dishes—crisp blanched greens, golden shrimp with corn, glazed ribs glistening red, and a clear winter melon soup.

Stella froze. The food looked freshly made, untouched.

The microwave hummed, filling the air with savory warmth. She devoured the meal quickly, then crept upstairs.

A sliver of warm light spilled from beneath the study door.

Adrian Roland sat in his wheelchair, a book open across his lap. Without looking up, he asked, "Did you eat?"

"Yes."

Silence thickened between them.

"The food tonight..." Stella broke the quiet. "It tasted different."

"Did it?"

"Not like before." She paused. "Almost... like how I make it."

Adrian turned a page. "As long as it suited you."

Her fingers tightened around her sleeve. "I'm going to shower."

The rush of water filled the bathroom, steam curling in the air. When she emerged, towel-drying her hair, the study was dark. Only a nightlight glowed in the bedroom, illuminating Adrian's still form turned away from her, his breathing even.

As she switched off the light, a sigh cut through the darkness.

"Did I wake you?"

"No."

"Have you been... sleeping poorly?"

"Dry your hair properly."

Stella frowned. "I did."

"Forgot your last cold already?"

"That was because you rode too fast—"

"The wind never bothered me."

"You've always had stronger immunity."

Adrian's voice softened unexpectedly. "Little Star... I can't dry it for you now."

Her fingers stilled. That nickname, that tone—it felt like another lifetime.

The hair dryer's drone filled the room, the scent of jasmine blooming in the dark.

"I saw Lily Savigny today," she said abruptly.

"I know."

"I know you know."

Adrian chuckled. "What do you want to ask?"

"Doesn't it... hurt you?"

"Should it?"

She bit her lip. "After everything..."

"If I'd known the truth sooner," his voice turned icy, "I wouldn't have spared her a glance."

Silence stretched between them.

"She said..." Stella gathered her courage. "That year in Milan."

"Hmm."

"Milan isn't that big..."

"I wanted to see where you'd lived." Adrian laughed bitterly. "Pathetic, isn't it? Hating you while trailing after your shadow like some obsessed stalker."