Adrian's POV
The soft glow of the interior car light illuminated my hands as I carefully held the transparent evidence bag containing a single strand of black hair. The laboratory-grade bag felt clinical and cold, completely at odds with the preciousness of its contents.
"Everything went according to plan, sir," the doctor reported from the front seat, his voice professionally detached. "The hospital records now show a negative result. No one suspects the samples were switched."
I nodded absently, my attention fixed on the hair. Its quality was exceptional—soft, silky, with a natural luster that caught even the dim light of the car interior. Beautiful, just like its owner.
With a reverence that had nothing to do with passion and everything to do with devotion, I brought the bag closer and placed a gentle kiss against the plastic barrier protecting that single strand.
"After all these years," I murmured, more to myself than to my companion, "she's finally coming home."
"Sir?" the doctor questioned, clearly confused by my behavior.
"The Davis family will soon discover what we already know," I replied, carefully placing the bag inside an inner pocket of my suit jacket, directly over my heart. "But they're not the only ones with a claim to Stella Winston."
I gazed out at the darkening sky, a rare smile touching my lips. "Some bonds transcend blood. Some promises never expire."
*I've waited twenty years to fulfill my promise. I cannot allow anyone to take my treasure away from me.*
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Stella's POV
I stood in the middle of my expansive walk-in closet, surrounded by a sea of magnificent designer gowns, feeling as though I were immersed in a dream-like ocean. I was selecting a dress for Victor's birthday celebration, and after trying on several unsatisfactory options.
I finally settled on a smoke-blue and pink ombré strapless gown. The layered tulle skirt cascaded like clouds, creating an ethereal effect that was both elegant and playfully modern—perfect for a high-end event without appearing too formal.
"What do you think?" I asked, stepping out of the dressing area and twirling once for Adam, the skirt dancing with my movement as if inviting his gaze. He was standing by the bedroom window, absently adjusting his cufflinks. When he looked up at me, his eyes instantly darkened, as if something had been ignited within them.
He studied me, his gaze slowly sweeping over my body, his brow furrowing slightly as he said in a low voice, "Mrs. Lancaster, you're too eye-catching in that. Perhaps something more understated? I'd rather not have others staring at you for too long."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes, though my lips secretly curved upward. This man, there he goes again, with that familiar possessiveness that made my heart skip a beat.
"This is already understated enough!" I deliberately elongated my tone, my hand gently smoothing over the bodice, feeling how perfectly it fit. Suddenly curious, I asked, "Wait, how do all these dresses fit me so well? How do you know my measurements?"
Adam's mouth curved into a slight, mischievous smile. "Hand-measured," he answered, his voice low, like a whisper against my ear.
In an instant, memories flooded back—his palms had traced my body countless times, those gentle yet fervent touches branded onto my skin. My cheeks grew hot, a warm current flowing from my heart throughout my entire body.
I quickly cleared my throat, pretending to be composed: "Hand-measured? Hmm, I doubt you were thinking about dresses during those... 'measurements.'"
"Don't underestimate me, I'm capable of multitasking," he replied with a straight face, yet his composure only made me want to tease him more.
This man, always saying the most provocative things with the most casual tone. I bit my lip, suppressing a smile, wondering if he would look smug if he knew how fast my heart was beating right now.
He gestured toward his closet, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation: "Mrs. Lancaster, aren't you forgetting something? My suit?" He paused, his expression becoming more serious. "Tonight is different. I'm attending as your husband, not simply as Adam Lancaster."
His words were like a small pebble dropped into the lake of my heart, creating sweet ripples. He rarely emphasized his role as "husband," usually being the commanding figure who controlled the entire room. But today, he was willing to stand beside me as my exclusive companion. The thought made my heart race—he wanted me to possess him completely, even if just for tonight.
I entered his meticulously organized closet, which looked more like a work of art, and selected an iron-grey custom suit, dignified yet striking, complementing my dress perfectly. I also chose a royal blue silk tie, subtly echoing the blue in my gown, like a quiet declaration of our connection.
"Here," I said, returning to the bedroom with my selections. "Isn't this combination perfect?"
Adam glanced down at the blue tie, raising an eyebrow. "Not pink to match your dress?"
I smiled as I corrected him, my hands already naturally reaching out to help him with his tie: "My dress is smoke-blue and pink gradient, so blue is more complementary. Though if Mr. Lancaster wants to wear a pink tie, I won't stop you. With your looks, you could certainly pull it off."
I focused on making the perfect Windsor knot, my fingertips accidentally brushing against his Adam's apple. He didn't move, but his gaze softened as if he might melt me.
Standing this close, his cologne mingled with his natural scent, enveloping me like a warm net, captivating me completely. I secretly took a breath, thinking how this scent was absolutely deadly, making my heart flutter uncontrollably every time I caught it.
"Now for the finishing touch," I murmured, retrieving a sapphire necklace from my jewelry box and handing it to him.
Adam took the necklace and moved behind me. I lifted my hair as his fingers gently slid across the nape of my neck, warm and careful as he fastened the clasp. The cool sapphires rested against my collarbone, echoing his tie's color, as if telling the story of our unbreakable connection.
"Look at us," I turned to face him, smiling as I appraised him. "Mr. Lancaster, when did you become so good at coordination? You're the same man who once suggested I wear flat shoes to a formal gala!"
"All thanks to Mrs. Lancaster's excellent teaching," he said softly, his hands naturally settling on my waist, gently tightening as if reluctant to let go. "You've enlightened me on matters of fashion."
When he called me "Mrs. Lancaster," his tone always carried a subtle possessiveness, as if quietly announcing that I belonged to him. Whenever he addressed me this way, a sweet little thrill coursed through me.
Once, this title was merely a label of our marriage, cold and impersonal, but now it sounded like a term of endearment, wrapped in tenderness and affection. I secretly wondered, when exactly did I start enjoying hearing him call me "Mrs. Lancaster" so much?
As we prepared to leave, I caught our reflection in the full-length mirror—Adam tall and imposing, his suit outlining his perfect physique; me in my flowing gown, the sapphires at my neck glimmering, silently echoing his tie. Together, we looked like a couple who had stepped out of a painting, so perfectly matched that one couldn't look away.
My heart quickened, and I couldn't help thinking, when did we become so compatible? The feeling was sweet as honey, yet somehow made my heart race and my cheeks flush.
"Mrs. Lancaster, we should go," Adam's voice pulled me back to reality as he extended his hand, palm up, waiting for mine. "We shouldn't keep the guests waiting too long."
I placed my hand in his palm, and his fingers immediately closed around it, warm and reassuring, as if telling me that tonight he belonged only to me.
We walked toward the door, stepping into the night. In this moment, everything felt so natural, as if we were truly just an ordinary couple attending a friend's party. But I knew our relationship was anything but simple—yet tonight, I only wanted to immerse myself in this sweet illusion, savoring every second with him by my side.