Chapter 361

She quickly wiped away her tears, forcing a smile onto her lips. "Vincent Langley, you're truly heartless. If our daughter was dead, you should have told me the truth. Why make me suffer like this?"

Her fingers trembled slightly, but she refused to let her composure crumble.

"You knew how much I loved her." Her voice was feather-light, yet every word cut deep.

The fact that the girl wasn't her biological daughter—she could pretend not to know.

If Vincent wanted to keep up this charade, she would play along.

Protecting her son and finding her real daughter—that was her mission now.

She had to hold onto the company, waiting for her daughter's return.

Vincent's gaze flickered as he took in her tear-streaked face. The delicate features, now etched with devastation, sent an unexpected pang through his chest.

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, kissing away the traces of tears.

So she truly believed him.

Now, isolated and vulnerable, she had no choice but to rely on him.

"Eleanor, I was afraid you couldn't handle it back then. Isabella's birth mother is gone. From now on, she is your real daughter."

Eleanor Langley leaned against his shoulder, a cold smirk hidden in the shadows. He couldn't raise her daughter—and she would never treat his spawn with kindness.

That venomous girl, Isabella—she would watch her downfall with her own eyes.

What she had raised with her own hands, she would destroy with them.

Vincent's crisis was averted.

Emotionally stirred, he tightened his grip on Eleanor, turning the office into the stage for a passionate display.

Humiliated, Eleanor dressed herself afterward. This endurance was all for her daughter.

Only this self-delusion could suppress the urge to vomit.

Vincent, thoroughly satisfied, kept her close, admiring the flush on her cheeks and the rise and fall of her chest. Her reactions had proven his prowess.

In high spirits, he tenderly adjusted her collar.

"Eleanor, I'll call Isabella. Let's have dinner together as a family. She's been devastated since learning the truth—comfort her."

At the mention of her son, a flicker of warmth passed through Eleanor's eyes.

"Isabella was raised by me. Of course, I'll treat her as my own. Call her. I'll order her favorite strawberry cake."

Her smile was flawless, as if she genuinely cared for Isabella.

Vincent was completely reassured. With their son in the picture, she wouldn’t dare act recklessly.

Once the cake was ordered, he guided her out of the company, arm around her waist.

In the car parked downstairs, Adrian Valentine removed his earpiece.

Silent fury thickened the air.

Victor Ashcroft watched him with aching sympathy. After two years, they had finally found the lead connecting Vincent Langley to the death of Adrian's father.

Just as they'd suspected.

Victor turned his head, taking in Adrian's striking features twisted with anguish. He stayed silent, giving him space to regain composure.

Outside, Vincent's car pulled away.

Victor narrowed his eyes. How many lives had this monster ruined?

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. Vincent Langley, your reckoning is coming.

The truth—what the Dowager wanted, what Adrian wanted, what he himself had been chasing—was finally within reach.

Adrian lowered his gaze, shoulders weighed down as if bearing an unbearable burden. Pain seeped from every pore.

After a long silence, his voice emerged hoarse. "Keep close surveillance on Mrs. Langley. If Vincent is a dead end, we'll target Isabella and Eleanor."

Victor nodded. "Understood. I'll arrange it immediately."

Hatred flashed in his eyes.

Vincent Langley, this time, you won't escape.

A cold smirk curled Victor's lips.

The car pulled away, heading toward the Valentine estate.