The billionaire's only exception

Velmora City Elysian Crown Hotel Tonight, one of Velmora’s most prestigious families—the Hawthorne family—is hosting a grand banquet here. Although the Sterling family’s influence has waned over the years, Elara Sterling still attends the event with her fiancé, Victor Ashford, as the future wife of the young master of the powerful Ashford Group. It is midsummer. The jasmine flowers blooming in the courtyard below release a soft, intoxicating fragrance, carried gently by the evening breeze. Having had a little too much to drink, Elara steps out onto the balcony to clear her head. She leans against the railing, letting the cool air brush against her skin until her dizziness fades slightly. When she returns to the hall, Victor is nowhere to be seen. Her cousin, Lydia Sterling, who had arrived with them, is also missing. A faint unease creeps into her chest. She searches around the hall before pulling out her phone to call Victor—but he doesn’t answer. She tries Lydia next. Still nothing. Elara lowers her phone slowly, her expression shifting. A memory flashes through her mind. Earlier that evening, when Victor came to pick her up, she had walked downstairs after getting ready… only to find him sitting very close to Lydia on the sofa. They had been laughing softly, their bodies almost touching. Lydia had even wrapped her arm around his. At the time, Elara had brushed it off. Now… Her face pales. She approaches a waiter. “Excuse me, have you seen my fiancé? His surname is Ashford. This is his photo.” She turns her phone toward him. The waiter glances at it, then looks at her with an odd expression—something like sympathy flickering in his eyes. “I believe I saw him heading toward the courtyard.” Hotel Courtyard Beneath a large tree beside the pool, warm golden lights spill across the ground. A pair of figures stand locked in an intimate embrace. “Victor…” The woman’s voice is soft and sweet, almost intoxicating. Her slender arms are wrapped around his neck as she leans into him like she belongs there. Victor glances around nervously before trying to push her away. But she closes the distance again. “Why did you push me away…?” she murmurs. Hidden behind a column, Elara freezes. She recognizes them instantly. Victor. Lydia. Her breath catches. Victor lowers his voice. “You said you had a surprise for me. What is it?” Lydia hesitates for a moment, then speaks shyly, her tone dripping with sweetness. “Victor… I’m pregnant.” Elara feels as if the world has shattered beneath her feet. Her eyes widen, her face turning deathly pale. “What?” Victor stiffens. “What did you just say?” “I’m pregnant,” Lydia repeats, throwing herself into his arms with a radiant smile. “I’m carrying our baby. You’re going to be a father… aren’t you happy?” Victor’s expression shifts between shock and confusion. “When… did this happen?” “About a month ago.” Lydia leans against him, then subtly glances toward Elara’s hiding spot. A faint, cold smirk curls at her lips. “That day… when Elara went out for filming,” she continues softly, “we did it on the bay window at your place.” The bay window. Elara’s knees nearly give out. That was her favorite place—where she used to curl up and read for hours. A wave of nausea rises in her throat. She can’t hear what Lydia says next. Her mind goes completely blank. After what feels like forever, Victor speaks again. “We should go back. We’ve been gone too long. She might get suspicious.” They walk away together, his arm wrapped around Lydia’s waist. Elara watches them, her heart feeling like it’s been ripped apart. As they get closer, panic takes over. She turns and runs. .. Her vision blurs as she stumbles through the corridor. She isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol or the shock—but everything feels unreal. Suddenly— She collides with a group of tall men in black suits. “I’m sorry—” she begins. Before she can finish, one of them grabs her arm tightly. “It’s her. We found her. Take her.” Elara freezes. What? They’ve got the wrong person! She tries to struggle, but her body feels weak, her limbs heavy. The dizziness worsens. Her consciousness begins to fade… … Presidential Suite Floor The elevator doors slide open. A strikingly handsome man steps out, surrounded by bodyguards and hotel staff. Adrian Vale. He carries an overwhelming presence—cold, commanding, untouchable. His features are flawless, sculpted with sharp precision. Standing over six feet tall, his physique rivals that of a runway model. He wears a custom-tailored black suit, its platinum buttons gleaming under the crystal chandelier above. Every step he takes is measured, elegant, powerful. He reaches a suite. A bodyguard opens the door. Adrian walks in, loosening his tie and tossing it aside. But after only a few steps, he pauses. Something feels… wrong. A strange heat spreads through his body. Click. The door locks behind him. From the outside. His expression darkens instantly. He strides back and tries the handle. It won’t budge. He pulls again. Still locked. His phone rings. Caller ID: Leon Cross Adrian answers, his voice cold. “What did you do?” A playful voice laughs from the other end. “Welcome back, Adrian. We prepared a special gift for you. Have you seen it yet?” “Open the door.” “Not happening. There’s a bet riding on this tonight. If you walk out unaffected, I lose everything.” Another voice chimes in, amused. “Don’t disappoint us, Adrian.” The call ends. Adrian tries calling back. Switched off. His face grows colder. He stands outside the bathroom, his expression dark and unreadable. From inside, the sound of running water echoes. Someone is in there. His lips press into a thin line. After a brief pause, he reaches out— And pushes the door open. He stops. Just for a moment. At the sight before him.