Chapter 89
The car window rolled down slowly as the hospital entrance came into view.
Stella Valentine immediately recognized the familiar figure—Lily Savigny was walking briskly through the hospital doors.
"Screech—" Joy Fairsprene slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to an abrupt halt. "Ugh, that fake little saint. I’d love to know what she’s up to now!"
Little Luna Roland slept soundly in Stella’s arms. She gently pressed her friend’s hand. "Let it go. I’m happy with my life now. I don’t want to dwell on the past."
"No!" Joy shook off her hand, eyes blazing. "Even if you don’t care about Adrian Roland anymore, she stole your family’s legacy! Your home!"
Stella looked down at her daughter’s peaceful face.
If the Valentine family were still intact, Luna would have been a cherished little princess, not a child without a stable home.
"You stay here with the baby. I’ll go check it out—just a quick look, no trouble, I promise." Joy was already pushing the car door open.
"Joy!"
But her friend was already sprinting after Lily into the hospital.
Lily Savigny moved through the hospital alone, her expression tense.
She couldn’t wait any longer. Adrian had grown increasingly distant, and years of careful planning were on the verge of collapsing.
At least yesterday, he’d finally finalized the divorce with Stella.
This was her last chance.
Sunglasses, a mask, and a hat concealed her face until she entered the examination room and removed them.
The doctor initially thought a celebrity had walked in, but his expression fell when he saw her ordinary features.
"Doctor, I need ovulation induction shots."
"That requires preliminary tests first." The doctor frowned.
"Money isn’t an issue. I just need to get pregnant as soon as possible." Lily lowered her voice.
The doctor set down his pen, smirking. "In all my years, I’ve never heard someone bribe me so bluntly."
"...I just want a child."
"Regular menstrual cycle? Normal marital relations?"
Lily nervously shut the door, her voice trembling. "I... had a miscarriage. It’s hard for me to conceive now. IVF is fine—I can pay any amount."
"We don’t have IVF licensing here." The doctor shook his head.
"Then the shots! My friend got pregnant right after taking them!"
...
Outside the hospital, Stella fidgeted anxiously.
Joy was impulsive. If she confronted Lily, things could go badly.
"Knock knock"—the car window tapped.
"Ma’am, your car is taking up two spots." The parking attendant gestured to the long line of vehicles behind them. "Could you move, please?"
Stella panicked. "I... I don’t know how to drive. My friend will be back soon."
"How long is that gonna take?" The attendant scowled. "This is an emergency lane!"
Horns blared in frustration.
"Miss Valentine?"
A smooth, cultured voice suddenly spoke.
Stella turned and met a pair of warm, jade-like eyes.
Behind gold-rimmed glasses, the man stood impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his tie perfectly knotted—every inch the refined aristocrat.
"I’m Julian Valois."
Stella’s pupils contracted—why was he here?
"Are you the car owner’s friend?" The attendant pressed. "Move it now! There’s an emergency patient waiting!"
Julian glanced at Stella. "Need help?"
His tone, his demeanor—everything about him reminded her of Mr. Alistair.
"Miss Valentine?"
"Y-yes, please." Stella snapped out of her daze.
Julian gave a polite nod and smoothly parked the car in a proper spot.
In the confined space, they sat barely half a meter apart.
When he glanced at her through the rearview mirror, he caught Stella stealing a look at him.
"Miss Valentine."
"Mr. Valois, thank you for today."
"Don’t mention it." His gaze softened as it landed on Luna. "Your daughter is lovely."
"Thank you."
"Forgive my forwardness..." Julian hesitated. "May I hold her?"
Stella tensed instantly.
No matter how much he resembled Mr. Alistair, he was still a stranger.
"My apologies, that was inappropriate." He immediately withdrew the request.
"She’s asleep..." Stella murmured.
Julian nodded in understanding. "I should’ve thought of that. Are you here at the hospital for...?"
"Just accompanying a friend." She deflected. "And you, Mr. Valois?"
"Personal matters." He sidestepped the question, then asked gently, "Does the wound still hurt? Try to avoid painkillers—they’re not good for your nerves."
Stella’s head jerked up. "How did you know what medication I’m taking?"