Chapter 391: Chapter 391



“Then there’s nothing more to talk about,” Adrian declared coldly, rising to his feet and pulling Joelle up with him.

Joelle blinked in surprise, catching a glimpse of a side of Adrian she rarely saw—one reserved for those he considered adversaries.

“We’ll take this to court. As Ryland’s uncle, I have as much right to fight for custody as you do. Whether Ryland ends up with you or me, the judge will have the final word.”

As Adrian led her out of the room, Joelle cast a quick look over her shoulder at Wade.

He sat still, head bowed, as though absorbing the blow, his isolation palpable.

“Adrian, if he truly wants Ryland that badly, I’m willing to agree to his first condition.”

Whether she was Ryland’s aunt or more of a mother figure didn’t change the depth of her love for the boy.

Titles meant little in the face of what truly mattered.

But for Wade, it seemed like something far deeper. It was a way to preserve a connection to Chris, Ryland’s father.

Joelle could feel the pulse of Wade’s desperation. Adrian gently patted her head, a quiet acknowledgment of her unspoken kindness.

He knew better than anyone how much Joelle was willing to sacrifice.

“Do you pity Wade?” he asked.

“I do. He seems lost, like he’s clutching at straws.”

Adrian’s hand tightened around hers, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features.

“And what about me? Don’t I deserve your sympathy too?”

Joelle laughed at his gruff tone.

“Of course, I feel the most for you.”

His expression remained stoic, but beneath it all, he was secretly pleased.

After Joelle and Adrian departed, Wade remained seated, lost in solitude.

His shoulders sagged increasingly, and his usually erect posture now crumbled.

Wade’s assistant, suspecting he was distraught, rushed over, only to discover Wade’s gaze was not one of sorrow but of fiery determination, reminiscent of a lion poised for action.

“Mr. Potter, did they turn you down?” the assistant inquired tentatively.

Wade’s eyes were fixed on a distant point.

“We’re out of time.”

The assistant, puzzled, moved in closer.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, could you repeat that?”

“There’s no time left!” Wade erupted, shattering the cup beside him with a fierce swipe. The assistant, startled, stepped back, too afraid to come closer for a moment.

In GreenHill Manor, Chris lay reading in bed, the picture of tranquility. As Wade entered, a cold draft seemed to sweep in with him.

“Trade!” Chris greeted him with the same enthusiasm he had shown since childhood. No matter how stern Wade’s face was, he would instinctively smile the moment he saw his brother.

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