Chapter 9

Adrian's POV

The leash suddenly slipped from my palm, and Lucas shot forward like a bolt of lightning.

He was more perceptive than I'd given him credit for, acutely attuned to the scent of tension in the air.

Isabella must have encountered something upstairs.

I didn't hesitate and followed immediately.

This was an old apartment building, its stairwell narrow and steep.

With each step, the floorboards groaned beneath my weight, protesting under the burden of years.

Large patches of paint had peeled away from the walls, exposing the damp, gray concrete underneath, and the air was thick with a musty smell that seemed to have settled in permanently.

The yellowed motion-sensor light overhead flickered erratically, its faulty connection causing it to sputter between dim illumination and near darkness.

A sharp pang of bitterness and heartache rose in my chest.

With Isabella's first-year resident salary at St. Cecilia's Hospital, if she hadn't been burdened by the crushing debts and family pressures of the Kensington estate, she could have easily afforded a better living situation instead of struggling in this cramped, suffocating apartment.

Halfway up the stairs, I heard hurried, uneven footsteps descending from above.

Julian was coming down.

He moved awkwardly, limping slightly, the edges of his leather shoes stained with obvious slobber marks and mud.

In the confined space of the narrow stairwell, we came face to face.

He fixed his eyes on me, his chest heaving violently. "Adrian, control that stupid dog of yours!"

"I've told you before, Lucas isn't stupid at all," I replied evenly. "His sense of smell is sharper than anyone's, which is precisely why he reacts with such strong aversion to garbage that reeks of rot."

"So Isabella learned all her nastiness from you, did she? You're quite accomplished, Adrian—in just one day, you've managed to drag a well-bred young lady from the Kensington family down into the gutter where you belong! Don't tell me you actually proposed to her with that ring you stole from my grandfather's collection room?"

"Your information travels fast, Julian. I assume she's already told you—she said yes."

My tone remained calm. "Since you already know, perhaps you should demonstrate some grace as her former boyfriend and help us carry her luggage to the car."

Julian's expression darkened further.

"Have you lost your mind, Adrian? She's my fiancée!"

"Oh, so you do remember that you're only engaged? This morning, she signed a marriage notice with me. And by the way, that ring was left to me by my mother—it has nothing to do with that tyrannical, self-righteous despot you call grandfather."

"Stop deluding yourself, Adrian." A vein bulged at Julian's temple, and like someone whose sore spot had been stepped on, he lurched forward aggressively. "Ten years of exile still haven't taught you anything, have they? Do you really think marrying the daughter of an Earl will make the elders respect you? You're still nothing but trash living off a trust fund! Just you wait—I'm calling Grandfather and Father right now. They'll never allow this disgrace to happen!"

I looked at him quietly, my gaze holding no anger, only a kind of pitying indifference.

"Are you finished, Julian? Do you want to guess whether I'll listen to them?"

I said it lightly.

He stared at me stubbornly, a flicker of calculation crossing his eyes. "Or, if you don't want another beating from Grandfather, I can make you an offer. Just stop harassing Isabella and get as far away as possible! Name your price, Adrian. I know you must have racked up debts abroad—why else would you suddenly slink back home with your tail between your legs?"

Ten years had passed, and Julian was still the same little boy who'd never stepped outside his ivory tower.

Deep in his bones, he still carried that spoiled, insufferable arrogance—proud and foolish in equal measure.

He fundamentally failed to understand that whether or not I chose to deal with him depended solely on how merciful I felt like being.

I leaned in slightly, closing the distance between us, and spoke in a tone that was utterly flat yet utterly unyielding.

"Julian, you've never understood one simple truth—the rose you neglect will eventually bloom in someone else's garden. And you won't even have the right to water it."

His face instantly turned ashen, his lips trembling as though he wanted to retort but couldn't find the words.

"Now, you can get out of here," I said, dropping my gaze, my voice cold as ice. "Before I change my mind. Otherwise, Lucas will treat you like a squawking crow, and next time it won't be just your shoes he bites."

I continued up the stairs and turned into the entrance of Isabella's rented apartment.

I saw a girl with chestnut-colored hair holding up her phone toward the doorway, filming, the screen displaying a live-streaming interface.

When she saw me, she visibly froze. "You are...?"

"Hello."

I nodded to her politely in greeting.

"Hey! Hello, I'm Juliet—I'm Isabella's roommate."

"Hello, Juliet. I'm Adrian. Thank you for looking after Isabella all this time."

Juliet blinked and lowered her phone. "So do you know that guy who just got bitten by the dog? What's your relationship with him?"

"Are you asking about my relationship with him, or with the dog?"

I smiled faintly. "Comparatively speaking, I'm far better equipped to define my relationship with the latter. As for the former, all I can tell you is that we share the surname Hawthorne, and aside from knowing he hasn't yet cut his umbilical cord, I know nothing about him."

I glanced at the phone mount Juliet was holding—she must have recorded the entire confrontation that just took place.

For a fashionable and perceptive young blogger like her, what could attract more attention from her followers than such a spontaneous incident?

I thought for a moment, then spoke in a tone that was both sincere and gentlemanly. "By the way, Juliet, if I wanted to purchase the video footage you just recorded, how much would that cost?"

"What?"

She froze, clearly not expecting such a request.

So I reached into the inner pocket of my suit jacket, pulled out my wallet, and extracted a thousand pounds in cash, placing it neatly on the table.

"This is one thousand pounds. In exchange, please hand over the video you just filmed to me. Would that be acceptable?"

Juliet looked at the money on the table, then back at me. "Of... of course."

Then I took out another thousand pounds and placed it on the table as well.

"Additionally, this money—please return it to Isabella on behalf of the landlord." I spoke softly. "Tell her it's a thank-you for renting here all these years without causing any trouble, and that out of sympathy for her current difficult circumstances, the landlord is refunding her deposit. Can you do that, Juliet? I'd like you to keep the entire matter confidential from Isabella."

Juliet opened her mouth as though to say something, but in the end, she simply nodded silently.

"Thank you." I nodded to her once more, then turned and walked toward Isabella's bedroom.

I approached Isabella's door and, through the gap, saw her crouched on the floor, holding the fluffy form of Lucas in her arms.

Hearing the door open, she jerked her head up, her eyes red-rimmed, her face still marked with the traces of tears not yet dried.

I walked over and crouched down in front of her.

"It's all right now, Isabella. We can leave this place."