Chapter 142

Adrian Valentine stared at his empty arms, feeling as if a piece of his heart had been carved out.

The little girl's departure left him with an inexplicable sense of loss.

He composed himself and followed Nathan Aldridge and Zachary Deross toward the hospital room.

Evelyn Roland lay motionless on the bed, an oxygen mask covering half her face. The heart monitor beeped sharply.

As Adrian approached, her deathly pale complexion stole his breath.

How much pain had she endured when she hurt herself?

He smiled bitterly. She had always been ruthless—especially toward herself.

On their last mission before the divorce, she had taken a bullet for him without hesitation.

Nathan watched Adrian's pained expression with cold disdain. "Who are you performing for, Mr. Valentine?"

"She's out of danger. You can leave now. If the press catches you here, Evelyn will suffer more from you and Isabella."

"When Isabella framed her for corporate espionage, I considered stepping in. But since you were so eager to play the fool, I let it happen. As for the car accident involving the actor from Imperial Consort—we've found evidence linking it to you and Isabella."

Adrian's patience snapped. "Shut up!"

"You—"

"Get out!" He shoved them both into the hallway.

Nathan and Zachary exchanged glances.

"You just let him throw us out?" Nathan demanded.

Zachary scowled. "And you just let him throw me out?"

Nathan scoffed. "What's the point of arguing now?"

Zachary sighed. "She'd rather bleed than see him hurt. Let the great Mr. Valentine wallow in guilt. The media's already spinning the tale—how romantic, stabbing Evelyn for Isabella's sake."

"Those two deserve each other. It'd be a shame to separate them."

Nathan fell silent.

A man who betrays love has no integrity.

Zachary continued mockingly, "Let the proud Mr. Valentine suffer. Useless bastard."

Adrian, still standing behind the door: "..."

Did they think he was deaf?

He returned to Evelyn's bedside and clasped her icy hand.

In this moment, all grudges seemed insignificant.

Christian Lefèvre's vendetta, Alexander Durand's debt—what did they matter in the face of life and death?

"You'll be alright, sweetheart," he whispered, tucking the blanket around her before settling into the chair.

Outside, Nathan and Zachary paced restlessly.

"That bastard hurt her and now he's hogging the room?" Zachary growled.

Nathan rubbed his sore legs. "Should we drag him out? We've waited all day."

The door suddenly swung open. "No need. I'm leaving."

Zachary lunged, but Nathan held him back. "Don't waste energy on a dog."

"Nathan, you—"

"Get lost," Nathan cut in coldly. "I don't want to see you again."

As Adrian turned to leave, the door burst open.

Evelyn staggered out—and sprinted down the corridor.