Stella, expressionless, withdrew her gaze, "Let’s go back."
After speaking, she turned and walked away.
"Stella!"
Aiden Fordham stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, "Stay with a little longer."
His tone carried a hint of pleading.
Stella shook off his hand, her voice as cold as the wind on this mountaintop.
"But this isn’t the scenery I want."
Her decisive back pierced his eyes.
The next second, he extended his long arm and directly scooped her up horizontally.
"The road is rough; let carry you, so you don’t twist your ankle."
He domineeringly offered an unassailable reason, carrying her as he walked back with steady strides.
Stella struggled a couple of tis, to no avail.
The mountain path was a bit bumpy, and instinctively, she reached out to wrap her arms around his neck to steady herself.
The familiar scent of cedar from his body lingered at her nose, crisp and clean.
She buried her head low, against his chest, her eyes uncontrollably reddening.
Aiden could feel the slight tremble of the person in his arms, knowing she was in pain.
Perhaps it was for the child who hadn’t had the chance to be born.
He ached, he felt guilty; he dared not say another word to comfort her.
He didn’t know that once a heart is dead, it’s not a sea of clouds or a stray blossom that can bring it back to life.
...
Stella returned ho, feeling tired, and took a nap in bed.
She slowly turned to her side, naturally placing her hand over the slightly protruding area.
The warmth of her palm rested on her belly; it was very quiet there.
Inside, a small life was stubbornly growing.
This was her baby.
The baby she fought tooth and nail to snatch back from the brink of death.
She would not allow anyone to harm him again.
In the afternoon, the sunlight was just right, warm and cozy.
Vivi Sterling sat at the dining table, leisurely enjoying her afternoon tea.
Lately, she didn’t know why, but she was getting hungry very quickly.
Probably because the two little ones inside her were absorbing nutrients too eagerly.
Suddenly, Butler Young walked in with steady steps.
Behind him followed two young n, looking spirited but with a hint of nervousness on their faces.
The two n were carrying large bags of gifts, dazzling to the eye.
"Miss Vivi."
Butler Young spoke respectfully.
"These two gentlen were sent by Young Master Whitman to deliver so New Year’s gifts to the house."
He paused and added.
"Eldest Master Whitman and Miss Stella will return to The Imperial Capital tomorrow."
Vivi Sterling picked up her milk cup, walking over slowly.
"Hmm, put them away."
She nodded.
Hugh Whitman, this man, sure had a good heart.
Her gaze casually swept over the two n, suddenly freezing.
One of them looked so familiar!
She frowned.
Isn’t this... the waiter from the boxing gym?
The man clearly recognized her too, his eyes landing on her heavily pregnant belly, eyes widening, mouth agape, stunned.
"Why is it you?"
Vivi Sterling asked directly.
"You know Hugh Whitman?"
The man gathered his wits, forcing a smile uglier than crying.
"Miss Sterling, you’re joking."
He quickly waved his hand, speaking swiftly and urgently.
"Eldest Master Whitman... he’s the big boss of our boxing gym."
"Today, the gym is closed for the holiday, and employees were given New Year gifts, so Eldest Master Whitman just had us deliver the gifts to the house."
Vivi Sterling’s mind buzzed.
Hugh Whitman is the owner of the gym? Then he... he knows Seventeen too?
The thought made her heart skip a beat.
"Does he know Seventeen?"
The man looked at her expression, seed to think of sothing, and blurted out.
"Seventeen, he is..." Just as he spoke, he suddenly stopped, his face turning pale.
Shit.
He screwed up.
"Miss Sterling, I... I have an urgent matter, I must go!"
He stamred and quickly slipped away.
Vivi Sterling didn’t really hear what he said afterward.
She placed the milk cup heavily on the entrance cabinet, making a dull "thump" sound.
She turned and walked straight toward the small gate of the backyard garden.
A thought grew wildly in her mind, unmistakably clear.
Hugh Whitman is the owner of the gym, so he must know Zane Zimrman.
He might know more about Zane Zimrman.
Vivi Sterling quickly ran to Hugh Whitman’s villa, standing before the highly modern front door, raising her hand, and pressing the doorbell.
No one replied.
She took out her phone and found the number in her contacts that she had saved but never dialed.
This was the first ti she called his number.
The phone rang for a long ti.
Long enough that she thought no one would answer, but then it connected.
Yet the voice was not his.
"Hello, President Whitman is in a summary eting, may I ask who this is?"
A soft, sweet female voice, each word dripping with professional sweetness.
President Whitman.
A woman?
Vivi Sterling’s face instantly darkened, her grip on the phone turning white at the knuckles.
Into the receiver, her voice was as cold as ice shards.
"Tell him his child wet the bed, hurry ho."
There was a noticeable pause on the other end, likely digesting the explosive information.
Then, still the professional voice, "Okay, I will relay the ssage to President Whitman."
"Beep—beep—"
The call was promptly hung up.
About two hours later, a black Bentley stopped at the Sterling Manor’s entrance.
Hugh Whitman had arrived.
Vivi Sterling walked out from the living room, arms crossed, leaning against the doorway, her gaze aningfully roaming over him.
Today, the man wore a sharply tailored dark grey suit, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his long legs straight, and as he moved, the muscle contours beneath his trousers vaguely showed.
"President Whitman, busy day today, isn’t it?"
Her words were laced with sarcasm.
He just smiled, walking straight towards her, carrying the slightly cool air from outside.
"I heard my child wet the bed."
He stood before her, his tall figure casting a shadow, exuding a faint woody scent.
"I specifically checked, a fetus urinates in the womb and then drinks it back, forming a cycle; it’s normal, nothing to worry about."
Vivi Sterling was montarily choked, but she didn’t have ti to discuss peeing with him.
She straightened up, lifting her eyes to look at him, and got straight to the point.
"Are you the owner of The Unbelievable Boxing Gym?"
His smile montarily froze on his face.
Then he resud his carefree deanor, speaking calmly.
"A friend couldn’t manage anymore before, so I took over."
He slightly tilted his head to look at her, "Why are you suddenly interested in the gym?"
Vivi Sterling’s heart skipped heavily.
"Do you know the Seventeen fighter?" Her voice was slightly tense, "His na is Zane Zimrman."
Hugh Whitman smiled.
"Seventeen, oh yes, I know him, quite the fighter."
He spoke slowly, each word landing heavily on Vivi Sterling’s heart.
"But he’s been missing for over three months now."
"Besides, he’s not called Zane Zimrman, his real na is Daniel Gower."
Vivi Sterling was completely stunned.
What the heck?
Daniel Gower?
That na was so earth-shatteringly dull.
"Impossible!" she imdiately retorted, "The Seventeen I t in Mardale was Zane Zimrman!"
But she didn’t have ti to dwell on the naming issue now.
"Can you open his locker?"
Hugh Whitman’s brow furrowed, showing so difficulty.
"Opening soone else’s locker without permission isn’t proper."
"You’re the owner, what are you afraid of? Take there!" Vivi Sterling’s tone was unquestionable, strangely excited.
She wanted to retrieve all his belongings, his relics.
Hugh Whitman saw the light in her eyes and said no more.
He had no choice but to brace himself, start the car, and personally drive her to the boxing gym.
Inside the gym, the scent of sweat and testosterone hit them directly.
They stood in front of locker number 17.
The waiter respectfully brought over a spare key.
Just as Vivi Sterling reached out to take it, Hugh Whitman grabbed the key first, his tall figure blocking the locker door.
He pressed against the cold tal locker door, looking down at her with a serious expression.
"I don’t care what your relationship with him is."
"But you can only look; you can’t touch."
"That’s soone else’s privacy."
"Alright, open it." Vivi Sterling nodded, her heartbeat racing out of control, her palms sweating with excitent.
"Click." The lock opened.
The locker door was slowly pulled open.
The scene before her drained the color from Vivi Sterling’s face.
The inside of the locker door was plastered with colorful, provocative photos of various beauties, in suggestive poses.
Inside the locker, disordered, were several empty cigarette boxes, and next to them, a box of opened condoms stood prominently.
Hugh Whitman stood to the side, tily shaking his head, his tone judging.
"This number seventeen, it’s obvious they’re not a decent person."
He frowned, looking at the pale-faced Vivi Sterling.
"How did you co to know soone like this?"
This was the worst Hugh Whitman had ever painted himself.
He had no choice; if she didn’t completely abandon her thoughts of Zane Zimrman, she would never enter his world.
Every ounce of strength drained from Vivi Sterling.
She shook her head, her steps faltering back a step, murmuring to herself.
"No... this isn’t his..."
"This isn’t the real him..."
Hugh Whitman fueled the fire again, pointing to the glaring box.
"Look, that box of condoms is opened."
His voice was calm yet cruel.
"It’s obvious he was off having fun with so beauty, maybe even eloped, no wonder there’s been no news for months."
"Impossible..." Vivi Sterling kept shaking her head, in disbelief.
"This isn’t him."
She suddenly turned, stumbling outside, her mind a blank.
Her Zane... her Zane was not this kind of person.
Just as she ran out of the gym’s door, tears uncontrollably burst forth.
She leaned against the cold doorfra, feeling as if all her strength had been drained, sliding down against the wall.
This wasn’t her Zane.
He wasn’t like this.
A large hand, warm with body heat, gently embraced her trembling shoulder.
Hugh Whitman squatted down, his voice low and gentle.
"Forget him."
"Co to ; from now on, let take care of you and the child."
Vivi Sterling abruptly pushed him away.
She raised her tear-streaked face, those pretty eyes now filled with sadness.
"No one can replace him!"
Hugh Whitman’s heart was once again tightly blocked.
This girl, why is she so persistent?
So hard to deal with!
...
The next day, Hugh Whitman accompanied Stella Grant as they flew back to The Imperial Capital.
As the plane landed, The Imperial Capital was lightly snowing.
There were only three days left until New Year’s Eve.
This was her first ti returning to the Whitman Family for the New Year.
Selene Sloan was more nervous than anyone, rambling on the phone before the departure, afraid sothing might happen to her on the way.
She even hired a nutritionist to stay at ho, ready to properly nurse her daughter’s health.
Whenever Selene Sloan thought about her daughter’s most painful monts, and not being by her side, she felt intense heartache.
Stella Grant and Hugh Whitman had agreed not to ntion anything about the child for the ti being.
Including to the family.
One reason was the fear that their concern might lead to making it known to everyone.
Another was the fear of the news leaking out.
If Aiden Fordham found out the child was still there, who knows if that madman would try again.
Even though Hugh Whitman had found Dean Warner, the mastermind was Corinne Kensington, and she would never believe it. She didn’t want to have another conflict with him.
Her plan was simple: stay at The Imperial Capital for ten days, just to spend the New Year with family.
Then head to F-Country, find a quiet place, and safely give birth to the child.
She would never return to ritopia.
Nor did she want to see Aiden Fordham again.
The car smoothly drove into Whitman Manor and stopped in front of the main building.
As soon as the car door opened, a figure rushed over, Selene Sloan grabbed her into a hug, her voice trembling.
"Sierra, my darling, how did you beco so thin?"
"I shouldn’t have let you leave the Whitman Family that day. I’m so sorry."
Stella Grant was held tightly, able to feel her mother’s trembling body.
She gently patted Selene Sloan’s back, softening her voice.
"Mom, I’m okay."
"I’m just hungry."
As soon as she ntioned hunger, Selene Sloan imdiately let go and nervously led her to the dining room.
"Quick, quick, the food has been ready for a long ti."
At the large dining table, there were only the three of them.
Father Abel Whitman was still out socializing and hadn’t returned ho.
The table was laden with sumptuous dishes, almost all of which were Stella Grant’s favorites.
Hugh Whitman sat beside her, constantly piling food into her bowl until it beca a small hill.
Selene Sloan made a gesture to the maid, who promptly brought out a pot of broth.
"Sierra, quick, drink this."
Selene Sloan pushed the pot of soup in front of her, her eyes full of expectation and heartache.
"This is a dicinal soup I had prepared for you to recover; a woman’s postpartum period is a huge deal, and we must not be careless."
She finished speaking, her eyes welling up again.
Stella Grant felt a pang in her heart.
"Okay."
She responded softly, lifting the pot to sniff a strong scent of herbs.
She didn’t drink it.
Instead, she looked up, passing Hugh Whitman a pleading glance.
Hugh Whitman understood imdiately, stretching out his arm to take the bowl of soup directly.
"Mom, you’re being extrely biased. I’ve also lost weight from the journey. I want to have so too."
Without giving Selene Sloan a chance to react, he lowered his head and gulped the soup down.
The actions were seamless.
Selene Sloan was livid, pointing at him and scolding.
"You child! That’s Sierra’s tonic, and you snatch it too!"
"Can’t you act like an older brother?"
Stella Grant couldn’t help but laugh as she watched Hugh Whitman.
"Mom, just let my brother drink it. He took good care of during the journey."
Selene Sloan finally relented but still gave Hugh Whitman a glare.
"Alright, at least you’re sowhat useful."
She shifted topics again.
"It’s nearly New Year. Tomorrow, take Gigi out shopping and pick her a couple of decent New Year gifts."
Hugh Whitman’s handso face instantly fell, but he could only obediently nod.
"Okay, Mom."
The price for that bowl of soup was rather high.
Not long after dinner, the butler hurried in.
"Madam, Young Master Monroe has co to see the eldest lady."
"He says he has very important matters to discuss with her alone."
Stella Grant was stunned for a mont.
She knew Ethan Monroe had co for business matters concerning his company.
But right now, she couldn’t help him.
Selene Sloan’s expression darkened, her tone leaving no room for rejection.
"The eldest lady is tired, no visitors today."
"Send him back."
The butler was about to leave but suddenly rembered sothing, hesitating for a mont.
"Madam..."
"The son-in-law... the son-in-law is also here, just outside, saying he wants to see the eldest lady as well."
Aiden Fordham.
He was here too.
Stella Grant’s heart sank abruptly, her fingertips feeling cold.
Selene Sloan sneered.
"Let him wait."
"Let him stand outside and feel the cold northwest wind for ten hours, then let him roll."
"Yes."
The butler nodded and hurried out.
But not a few minutes later, the butler rushed back in, genuinely panicked this ti.
"Madam! Sothing’s wrong! The son-in-law and Young Master Monroe are fighting outside!"
"There’s bloodshed!"
Stella Grant was startled, her mind buzzing, standing up without thinking, and quickly walked outside.
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