Chapter 87

Adrian Valentine pushed open his office door and saw Evelyn Roland standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, her silhouette radiating icy detachment.

"Sir, your wife has boarded the flight to Eastalia."

Adrian's fingers tightened imperceptibly. The glass reflected his suddenly pale face.

This city was empty now.

When he turned, his eyes burned with barely restrained fury. "What have you found about Alexander Durand?"

Victor Ashcroft shook his head. "The Durand family was wiped out four years ago. The killer was never found. Alexander's siblings are still alive, but he himself remains missing. Judging by Evelyn's reaction, it's likely he's already..."

Adrian's jaw clenched.

Those photos of Evelyn smiling at Alexander—so bright it hurt to look at.

A radiance she'd never shown him.

"Good riddance," he sneered. "Saves me the trouble."

She was complicit in Christian Lefèvre's death.

If she could kill for Alexander, she could damn well face his retribution.

Victor hesitated.

He knew the divorce was meant to protect her. Yet Adrian had to play the heartless villain.

"We've confirmed it was Martha who poisoned the Dowager. But we still haven't identified who reported Gregory Valentine."

Adrian's gaze darkened. "Keep digging. Vincent Langley has been making moves lately."

"And..." Victor paused. "About Isabella Langley replacing Scarlett Orlando for the film role. The director—"

"Set up a meeting tonight," Adrian cut him off. "No one dictates what my woman does."

Once the door closed, Adrian collapsed onto the sofa.

His phone screen lit up—the lock screen showed him holding Evelyn. Her smile was so sweet, as if the whole world shone in her eyes.

A sudden knock shattered the moment.

He snapped the screen dark, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his expression.