You Humiliated Me, I Left No Trace

Chapter 6

Adrian's mind went blank. A deafening roar swallowed his senses. Staggering back two steps, he turned and bolted through the doors like a madman.

Fine, biting snowflakes drifted through the air, clinging to his dark hair and settling against his deathly pale face.

The vast grounds of the Sterling estate felt like an endless labyrinth. Adrian ran with everything he had, his chest burning, his lungs screaming for air, feeling as though he would never reach the gates.

He finally burst through the iron security gates and skidded to a dead halt.

The snow-covered avenue outside was choked with a dense crowd of onlookers and passersby.

At the base of the stone steps, Harold knelt ramrod-straight in the freezing slush. His snow-white hair was dusted with frost, making it impossible to tell where his hair ended and the ice began.

A searing, tearing pain split Adrian's chest open, as if his heart were detonating.

The sharp whispers of the crowd drifted into his ears with terrifying clarity.

"That Sterling woman is truly heartless. Harold has been kneeling out here in the freezing slush all day, and she hasn't even shown her face."

"Cold-hearted, sure, but what about his grandson? The old man is out here suffering, and that worthless husband hasn't even bothered to step outside."

"Utterly ungrateful. Four years ago when they got engaged, and now when everything is falling apart... it's always this poor old man who has to beg on his knees."

In that crushing moment, Adrian learned the true meaning of agonizing regret.

If he hadn't been so blindly, hopelessly devoted to Lila, his grandfather would never have swallowed his pride to secure their marriage.

If he hadn't married into the Sterling family, his grandfather's life work wouldn't have been ripped away, forcing him into shame and isolation.

Every single tragedy, every drop of blood, traced back to him alone.

Adrian threw himself down the steps, dropping hard onto his knees in front of the old man. His throat was so parched he could barely choke out words. "Grandpa... please! Stop kneeling... Let's go home. Please, let's just go home..."

An overwhelming tide of guilt swallowed him whole, suffocating the last bit of air from his lungs.

Harold's clouded eyes softened with profound relief the moment he saw his grandson. With a trembling, frostbitten hand, he reached out to wipe away the hot tears streaming down Adrian's face.

Then, the seventy-year-old man violently doubled over, coughing up a dark spray of blood that painted a gruesome scarlet stain across the pristine white snow.

"Grandpa!"

In the sickroom of the old Sheldon estate, Adrian stood by the bed, watching Grace with frantic desperation. "Dr. Granville... how is he?"

Grace's expression was somber, devoid of false hope. "I've stabilized his vitals for now, but to pull him back from the brink, I need a preserved glacial snow lotus as a vital catalyst. It's an exceptionally rare specimen, impossible to find on the open market."

Adrian's heart jolted. He realized instantly—Lila's private vault contained a flawless, preserved specimen of the finest snow lotus.

He looked back at his grandfather's frail form on the bed, his skin ash-gray, his breathing terrifyingly shallow. Turning on his heel, Adrian walked out into the cold. "Please keep him alive. I'll bring back the lotus."

In the grand living room of the Sterling estate, Lila sat on the dark leather sofa, her face shadowed with menacing fury.

Dorian sat beside her, his tone dripping with fake sympathy. "Lila, don't be angry. Adrian is just overly anxious about his family. He didn't mean to cause a public scene."

A maid stepped in quietly. "Miss Sterling... Mr. Sheldon has returned."

Lila's eyes snapped toward the doorway, radiating a lethal chill.

The next second, Adrian stumbled into the room, gasping for air. He collapsed onto his knees before her with a sickening thud. "Lila... my grandfather is dying. I'm begging you... give me the snow lotus. Save his life!"

His eyes were bloodshot, burning with frantic terror. But Lila's next words doused him like liquid ice, freezing him to his very core.

"Your grandfather knelt outside my gates and made a humiliating spectacle for the entire city to mock," she said, her voice dropping into a razor-thin blade. "He brought this on himself. If he dies, he has no one to blame but his own pride."

Adrian slammed his forehead against the hardwood floor, prostrating himself again and again. His voice was raw, shredded beyond recognition. "Blame me! Put it all on me! I'll take whatever punishment you want... just give me the lotus!"

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He smashed his head against the floor repeatedly, the heavy, hollow sounds echoing through the vast room. Within seconds, skin broke, and a ribbon of dark blood trickled down the bridge of his nose, staining his pale face.

Lila's expression hardened. "Enough! If you enjoy bowing so much, go do it on the stone steps outside. Five hundred times—then we'll talk."

Adrian went still. Something flickered in his hollow eyes — thin, desperate, almost like hope. "If I bow five hundred times... you'll give me the lotus?"

"Do it first," she said, cold. "Then we'll talk."

Adrian didn't hesitate. He turned and made his way to the stone steps outside, went down onto his knees in the snow, and pressed his forehead to the frozen stone.

One. Two. Three.

Lila stood at the floor-to-ceiling glass, watching him without a flicker of expression. But the hand resting on the marble table had closed into a fist, the knuckles gone white.

She turned away sharply and threw it at Dorian on her way out. "I'll be in the study. Don't come near me."

By the time Adrian finished, the sun had completely sunk beneath the horizon.

His forehead was a mangled, bloody mess, crimson running freely down his face and dripping into the snow, blooming into dark, frozen stains.

Forcing his trembling, numb legs to hold his weight, he staggered back into the warm living room. He looked at Dorian with wild, desperate hope. "I did it... Five hundred times. Not one less... Please, give me the lotus."

Dorian offered a soft, pleasant smile. "Don't worry. You'll get what you deserve."

Adrian's tense shoulders barely began to relax when a wave of violent dizziness slammed into him. He swayed, almost collapsing onto the rug.

A maid approached, carrying an ornate wooden box. Adrian's eyes lit up with intense life. He reached out with blood-soaked hands, but Dorian intercepted the box first, casually turning it over in his fingers with lazy amusement.

"Do you know what Lila told me before she went upstairs?" Dorian asked softly.

Adrian's heart plummeted into a cold abyss.

The next second, Dorian opened his fingers. The priceless, preserved snow lotus slipped from the box and fell onto the snow-caked welcome mat near the open door.

Dorian raised his leather boot and brought his heel down directly onto the delicate flower, grinding it into the dirty, freezing slush.

He smiled down at the crushed, ruined mess, his voice light and completely unruffled.

"She said she'd rather see it destroyed than give a single petal to you."