Abigail smiled warmly. “Good. Since you’re here for the money, I’ll need to conduct a thorough background check. You’re okay with that, right?”
What a blunt woman!
“Of course,” I replied, unfazed.
She shook my hand firmly. “You’re honest, Stella, and I like that about you. Over the past two years, I’ve met many potential daughters-in-law, but none of them seemed right. You’re the first who feels… genuine.”
Her words surprised me. Genuine? Me? Still, I smiled and nodded politely.
“I’ll leave everything to you. Just keep Adrian company, talk to him, and let the staff handle the rest. I’ll transfer your allowance to you monthly,” she added.
I couldn’t stop myself from nodding enthusiastically.
That same day, Abigail left for Crescent City, and I officially moved into the villa with my few bags.
The butler and maids were indeed present, but they had little to do in such a well-maintained home. Most of the time, they lingered around idly, leaving me to my own devices.
I chose the room next to Adrian’s. It was bright and sunny, with large windows that overlooked the garden—a perfect spot for relaxing or studying.
After unpacking, I decided to visit Adrian.
When I entered his room, he looked as peaceful as before, his handsome features somehow even more captivating in the soft light.
“Such a waste,” I muttered under my breath. “A prince like you doesn’t belong in this state…”
Taking a seat by his bed, I introduced myself with a grin. “Hi, Mr. Winslow. I’m Stella Greer, your future wife. From today on, I’ll be taking care of you.”
As expected, he didn’t respond.
Later, I returned to my room and pulled out my laptop. Curiosity got the better of me, and I began researching vegetative states.
I learned that there were three types: one where patients had minimal consciousness, another where they could open their eyes subconsciously but remained unaware, and the last—a permanent vegetative state—where no consciousness remained at all.
Unfortunately, Adrian belonged to the third category.
I also checked if recovery was possible. While cases of miraculous recovery existed, they were one-in-a-million at best. Methods like stimulation and massage could help, but the odds were practically zero.
Sighing, I shut my laptop. A one-in-a-million chance might as well be no chance at all.
A faint cough startled me, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Adrian?” I whispered, rushing to his room.