Chapter 38 Facades
Stefan's POV~
The grand ballroom of the gala was throbbing with opulence until the projector flared to life. I felt my heart break as the photo of Valenticia and me on the balcony, her hand in mine was displayed across the screen: The heiress’s lie. The murmurs of the crowd increased in chorus and whispers erupted. Valenticia’s face turned pale, the gold dress she was wearing squeezed by her trembling hands and her eyes wide with fear as she gasped for breath. She gripped my arm, her fingers shaking, with a silent question in her eyes that made me want to die.
“Fraud!” a man hissed with his wine glass raised in a pinstripe suit nearby. “If she’s a liar, Clawford’s done.” A woman in emerald silk sneered, “Rosanna’s so desperate, shoving in a nobody.” Their words hurt, but amidst it all, some sympathetic whispers cut through — “Poor girl.” an older CEO murmured. The resentment and the pity mixed. The paparazzi hurdled towards us, their cameras popping like gunshots and their shouts relentless: Miss Clawford, is it true? Did you fake your claim?” “Mr. Myles, are you involved in the scam?”
Tears filled Valenticia’s eyes her shoulders curled in, and something squeezed in my chest. I put my arm around her, protecting her from the lenses, my voice lips against her ear. “I’ll fix this, Valenticia. I swear.” Her cry was faint, absorbed by my tuxedo, and her fear was a burden I promised to bear. I narrowed my eyes at the throngs and used my jaw to indicate and usher her through the crowd to a back exit. Their whispers followed us as we walked out, “It’s over for her,” “Stefan deserved better” — every word added to my anger.
The air outside was crisp as the lights on the waterfall gleamed against the surface of my black Bentley. I assisted her into the passenger seat, as she sat, trembling as she dried her eyes. I got into the driver’s seat, taking out my phone and calling Gideon. “It’s Stefan,” I said, my voice sharp. “Someone hacked the gala projector — ran a photo of me and Valenticia, calling her a liar. Trace it, now. I want names.”
There was calm urgency in Gideon’s crackling voice. “On it. Any suspects?”
“Natasha,” I growled. “This reeks of her.” I looked at Valenticia, her eyes fixed down on her lap, tears smearing the makeup on her eyes. “Hurry, Gideon.”
As I hung up, I turned on the car engine, the low growl calming me down. A voice broke the silence, Valenticia’s voice, small with an edge to it. “Why me, Stefan? Why do they hate me?”
I reached out to her hand.
Her hand was cool against mine and I squeezed it. “It’s not you, Valenticia. It’s our alliance — Clawford and New Dream. Galden’s frightened, and Natasha’s their pawn. We’ll hit back, together.” she gave me a small nod, but she held on tighter, giving me a bit of trust amidst her fear.
The drive to the estate was silent, Seryne's skyline streaking past. I pulled up to the mansion’s gates, the iron glistening under the moon. Valenticia hesitated, her voice was low. “Thank you, Stefan.” I brushed away a tear from her cheek, finding myself hesitant to remove my thumb on her cheek. “Rest. I’ll handle this.” She slipped out, her gown trailing behind her.
I raced toward Gideon’s townhouse, its clean glass a contrast to tonight’s facade. Inside, his tech lair was lit up with monitors, and coffee cups strewn across the floor. Gideon, wearing a hoodie and pecking at a keyboard, his glasses reflecting lines of code. “I got something,” he said, without looking up. “The hack’s messy — leads back to a Lovtan server.”
“Golden,” I said moving closer, my thoughts whirling. “Natasha’s not this audacious by herself.” Gideon pulled up a file, a digital scan of a jade pendant, complex and familiar. I sucked in my breath — I’d noticed it on Valenticia, pressed against her collarbone. “That’s hers,” I said, my voice low. “She wears it always.”
Gideon screen blinked: Memory block protocol Subject V 1999 A jade pendant ID. The words landed like a punch — her childhood amnesia, was forced? "Galden's is behind this," I muttered with creeping dread. “They messed with her mind.”
“You telling her?” Gideon asked, his eyes sharp.
“No,” I said, firmly. “Not yet. She’s breaking, Gideon. No one knows—not even her.” I balled my hands into fists, the urge to protect her warring against the heavy burden of the truth. “Dig deeper. Find the server’s owner.”
Back in my Bentley, I found myself driving back to the Clawford estate, the night closing in around me. When I got there, I texted Valenticia: Come outside.
A few minutes later, she appeared, wearing a silk robe over her nightgown, her eyes red but inquisitive. I leaned against the car, teasing the tension out of her. “You look small without the dress, heiress.” The shy smile of hers warmed me.
We sat in silence, the leather of the car cold against us, until I took out a silver locket, embossed with S&V. “For you,” I said, and put it around her neck, my fingers touching her. “I’m with you, always.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she said, “Stefan, I’m not good enough for you.”
“You deserve everything,” I said. Just as she got out and prepared to go back inside, my phone vibrated with a text from Gideon with a video link, and a news alert: Clawford Heiress’s Bribery Confession.
What?
I played the audio and a distorted voice that longed to sound like Valenticia’s spoke. “I paid the board to secure my title… Clawford’s mine by any means.” The lie was crude, venomous, and had Natasha’s stench written all over it.