Chapter 280

Chapter 280
William's POV

Days blurred together in medical examinations, physical therapy, and frustrating attempts at speech. Despite the room being furnished with expensive furniture and state-of-the-art medical equipment, it felt like a prison.

Thomas and his family returned immediately after Adam and Stella left. They had been present ever since, surrounding my bed with suffocating attention that made my teeth grind.

"Father, you should reconsider the CEO position," Thomas was saying now, his voice a practiced fusion of concern and authority. "Adam clearly doesn't have the family's best interests at heart. His GT Group directly competes with our investments in several markets."

"And that wife of his," Chloe added, unnecessarily fluffing my pillow with force. "The way she speaks to you is shocking. No respect for your position or condition."

Brian nodded eagerly. "They left as soon as they arrived, didn't they? While we're here every day, making sure you have everything you need."

What disgusting hypocrites.

I would have laughed if their performance wasn't so pathetically transparent. They talked about Adam's coldness while their own eyes constantly glanced at my monitors, as if calculating how long they needed to maintain this charade.

But Stella's words had taken root in my mind. A man who had always carefully maintained his health, kept perfect blood pressure, suddenly suffering a cerebral hemorrhage...

Each time Thomas insisted I take my medication, each time Chloe brought food that Joseph hadn't checked, each time Brian's smile didn't reach his eyes, my suspicions grew. The puzzle pieces were fitting together, forming a picture I should have seen long ago.

Did these damn parasites really try to murder me? My own son? For what purpose—to control a company he never truly understood? A legacy he contributed nothing to building?

And Adam—my other son, the one I had pushed away repeatedly. The one who would rather build his own empire than beg for my scraps. The one whose wife had the courage to speak truths no one else dared.

I handled Adam's brother's death terribly. I sacrificed Adam's reputation to protect the family. I made mistakes I could never make right.

Adam, I'm sorry. I've been a damn terrible father.

"Thomas," I managed to say, my voice rough from disuse, "enough."

He stopped mid-sentence, surprised by my sudden speech. "Father?"

"Leave." I concentrated all my strength to make this word clear. "All of you."

They exchanged glances, clearly uncertain how to respond to this dismissal.

"But Father—" Thomas began.

"Get out!" I shouted, the effort leaving me breathless and dizzy.

After they reluctantly departed, I found myself staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing. I need someone I can trust completely. Someone with no stake in Lancaster fortune. Someone who will tell me the naked truth.

With trembling fingers, I picked up the tablet Joseph had left. Only one person fit that description. A woman who loved me despite my flaws, who never sought my wealth or power.

I typed out a message for Joseph: Bring Elaina to see me.

Stella's POV

After a long day at the design studio reviewing fabric samples for the upcoming collection, all I wanted was a hot bath and perhaps a glass of red wine. As I approached, the lights at Lancaster Manor were already on—Adam had definitely gotten home before me.

The thought quickened my steps. Despite countless arguments between us, despite the family drama swirling around us, coming home to Adam still brought a flutter of anticipation to my chest. A glimpse of those green eyes could melt away a day's stress more effectively than any spa treatment.

This damn man, why does my heart still race for him?

I pushed open the heavy front door, already planning in my mind which wine would best complement the quiet evening I envisioned.

"Stella!"

The voice stopped me in my tracks. Not Adam's deep tone, but a woman's—familiar yet unexpected.

Elaina stood in the foyer, her smile warm and bright despite our last encounter at the hospital not going well. She wore a simple navy dress that accentuated her slender figure, her hair elegantly framing her delicate features.

Fuck, I wasn't expecting to see her at home at all.

"Mrs. Lancaster," I quickly regained my composure, plastering on a courteous smile. "What a surprise."

"I arrived this morning," she explained, stepping forward to take my hand. "Adam had Taylor pick me up. He said there were matters concerning his father he needed to discuss with me."

Adam tricked her into coming? What exactly is he planning?

My brain worked quickly, immediately understanding what had happened. William wanted to see Elaina, and Adam had arranged it—but hadn't told her the real reason.

Before I could formulate a response, the front door opened again, and Adam walked in, his eyes immediately finding mine. Despite his mother's presence, the intensity of his gaze didn't diminish, sending a familiar warmth through my body.

Damn, one look and my whole body heats up. It's so unfair.

"You're back," he said simply, removing his suit jacket with practiced ease.

Elaina turned to her son, her expression softening into something close to adoration. "Adam! I was just telling Stella about your call. It's been so long since we've had a proper get-together."

The painful irony was that she had completely forgotten our encounter at the hospital. Her condition had progressed to the point where sustained conversation was difficult—memories slipping away even as new ones formed. This made it impossible for Adam to express or resolve his resentment; how could he confront someone who couldn't remember her own actions?

He responded with a brief nod, his expression carefully neutral as he walked past her toward the stairs. This slight but noticeable distancing made my heart ache.

After dinner, Elaina retreated to her guest room, and I cornered Adam in our bedroom.

"Are you planning to tell her about William?" I asked, keeping my voice low despite the closed door.

"No," he answered, unbuttoning his shirt with methodical precision. "That was a lie."

I raised an eyebrow. "So you're not taking her to see him?"

"I am," Adam confirmed, "but he doesn't know I'm bringing her. According to Joseph, he's been requesting to see her."

These manipulations within manipulations sometimes made my head spin. "Adam, this is—"

A gentle knock on our door interrupted my thoughts. Elaina stood in the doorway, holding a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

"Nightcap?" she suggested cheerfully. "It's good for circulation, you know."

So this was Adam's childhood environment? No wonder he's so twisted.

Adam looked momentarily irritated but stepped aside to let her in. Without waiting for our response, she poured three glasses, distributing them with the grace of a woman who had hosted countless social gatherings.

"Adam," she said suddenly, her expression becoming serious, "you and Stella have been married for almost a year now. Have you considered having children?"

I nearly choked on my wine.

What kind of question is that?

"Stella is still young," Adam answered casually.

Elaina waved her hand dismissively. "Stella is indeed young, but you're not getting any younger, Adam."

I bit my lip to suppress a laugh, seeing Adam's barely concealed annoyance.

"Having babies earlier is best," Elaina continued, oblivious to or simply ignoring her son's discomfort. "Stella would be the youngest and most beautiful mother among her peers. Think how envious they would be of her."

If Adam and I weren't still in the waiting-for-stability phase of our relationship, I might seriously consider it. But damn, it's too early to talk about children.

Adam took the wine glass from his mother's hand and set it on the dresser. "Good night, Mother," he said firmly, guiding her toward the door.

"But—" she protested.

"We'll discuss this tomorrow," he said, closing the door with a definitive click.

Once we were alone, I couldn't help teasing him. "So your mom says you're getting old?"

Adam turned to me, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he untied his bathrobe. "Keep mocking me," he warned, his voice dropping to the low register that always made my heart race, "and see if I show any mercy."

I moved closer, my fingers sliding up his chest. "Mr. Lancaster," I said softly, "isn't cherishing his wife a virtue of a good man? How could you wait for me to coax you?"

I'm really starting to enjoy these little games of flirtation, watching his hard shell melt because of me.

"I never claimed to be a good man," he answered, his hands finding my waist.

I rose on my tiptoes to lightly kiss his lips. "Feel better now?"

I love that expression in his eyes, that mixture of desire and tenderness that only I get to see.

His answer was to lift me effortlessly, carrying me toward our bed. "One time," he whispered in my ear, his breath making my spine tingle.

"Only once?" I asked, feigning disappointment.

His lips curved against my skin. "One round equals one time. Not just once tonight."

As his lips claimed mine, I surrendered to the familiar heat between us, thoughts of family drama temporarily forgotten in the sanctuary of our shared desire.

God, I really do love this bastard.