Chapter 740:
She stepped out of her car, leaves crunching under her shoes—the sound breaking the still air.
William turned at once. No flicker of surprise crossed his face, as if he had known she was coming.
He slipped the cigarette into his pocket and straightened.
“Mr. Briggs,” she called lightly as she walked toward him, her tone deliberately cool, “you’re in a good mood. Scoping out Nebula Group’s next project site?”
They both knew exactly how Nebula had bought this land. There was no point pretending otherwise.
William ignored the sharpness in Stella’s tone, his eyes calm but focused. “I just want to see the place you’re trying so hard to protect.”
His voice was low, but there was a sincerity in it that she didn’t often hear. Stella didn’t want to linger.
“You’ve seen enough,” she said, her tone clipped. “Can you leave now?”
Without waiting for him to answer, she turned and fumbled for the keys to the old yard gate. The lock groaned loudly as she twisted it, rusty and stiff.
“You’re not going to let me in?”
William’s calm voice came from behind her. “I can check if something’s broken.”
Stella stopped in her tracks, still facing away, and stayed silent for a few seconds. She hadn’t expected the head of the Briggs Group to act like a handyman. But if he was offering, why argue?
Without looking back, she said simply, “Do what you want.”
Stella pushed the wooden gate open with a little force.
The yard was small but neat, with a big oak tree in the corner, still bare. A few cracked flowerpots along the wall, leftover from her adoptive mom’s gardening, had wild grass growing in them. Everything was just as she remembered, and the familiar smell made her feel a strange kind of peace.
Inside, a light layer of dust covered the old furniture. Stella’s fingers brushed the chipped dining table where she had eaten with her adoptive parents. She noticed a faded sketch on the wall, drawn by her adoptive dad while teaching her to read.
Every corner reminded her of her childhood, each memory priceless to her. Her birth mother had died long ago, and she never knew her dad. Without her adoptive parents’ love, she might not have grown up safely. Their love and care stayed deep in her heart.
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William followed quietly, looking around the simple house. His face showed mixed emotions.
He could feel the life she’d had here and understand the pain of losing it. His lips pressed together, more serious than when he first came in.
Stella stopped by a small window, her voice gentler as she remembered. “My adoptive mom would sit here and sew,” she said. “I’d do my homework close by. In winter, the sun would shine in, so warm.”
She gestured toward the corner of the yard. “That oak tree… my adoptive dad planted it for my fifth birthday. He promised that when it bloomed, he’d make me candied nuts. Every autumn, I had more than I could eat, and I still long for that flavor.”
Stella kept talking, not exactly to William, but to hold onto memories she didn’t want to lose.
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