Chapter 55 Chapter 55

Chapter 55 Chapter 55
Valentina

Three meetings back-to-back. Two demanding clients.

One board member who loved hearing himself speak. And I felt like my head was going to burst. 

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a second before walking to my desk and sank into my chair, exhaling slowly. My phone lay beside my laptop. I hadn't checked it in hours.

And suddenly... I wanted to. To call Lucien.  Last night replayed in my mind. The way he smiled when I panicked over imaginary injuries. The way his arms wrapped around me. The way he kissed me.

My lips tingled just remembering it.

I picked up my phone and dialed his number.

It rang. No answer.

"Busy?" I muttered to myself.

Of course he was busy. After last night? Whatever he handled... it wasn't small. I sent a text anyway.

Me: Are you busy?

A minute passed. Nothing.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds. Maybe he's occupied. Don't be dramatic.

I still had work to do too.  I opened a file and tried to focus.  A soft knock came on my door. 

"Come in," 

Leah stepped in, balancing something large in her hands. Flowers. A bouquet. Huge. Elegant. Cream and deep red roses wrapped in black paper.

"I have a delivery for you, Ma'am,"

"For me?"

She nodded, placing them carefully on my desk.

I stared at them. They looked expensive. There was a small black card tucked between the stems.

"Thank you, Leah," I said calmly.

She hesitated like she wanted to ask questions, then left.

The moment the door shut, I reached for the card and  pulled it out. There were only a few words written in clean, sharp handwriting.

You deserve something beautiful today.

And beneath it—Just one letter.

L.

I didn't even realize I was smiling until my cheeks hurt.

Lucien. Of course it was him.

He hadn't answered my call or replied to my text but he sent this. Which meant...He was thinking about me.

Warmth spread through my chest. 

"He's such a sweet man," I murmured butterflies almost erupting inside my stomach.

Maybe he was handling something and couldn't talk. But he still found time to do this. I touched one of the petals gently.

Maybe I should do something for him too.

Dinner? Something small? Something that says I see you.

Me: I'll be at the cabin later.

I stared at the message for a second.

The cabin. Just the thought of it made warmth pool low in my stomach.

⸻

The rest of the afternoon blurred. I called Leah in.

"Clear my evening schedule," I said smoothly. "If Mr. Ambrose asks, tell him I'm going out with my sister."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And I'll drive myself today. Inform the driver I won't need him."

She nodded. No questions. Good.

Later I picked up Violeta an hour later. She didn't stop talking from the moment she entered the car.

"Where are we going?"

"Why are you smiling like that?"

"Why do you look suspiciously happy?"

"I need groceries," I replied simply.

"For?"

"You'll see."

Now we were walking through the aisles of the convenience store, pushing a cart. Violeta kept peeking into it.

Steak. Fresh herbs. Cream. Wine. Strawberries.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Who are you cooking for today?"

I didn't answer. I simply picked up a pack of rosemary and placed it in the cart.

"Val," she pressed, lowering her voice dramatically, "is it a man?"

I kept walking. She gasped.

"It's a man!"

"Violeta."

"What? I'm your sister. I deserve details."

I hid my smile by reaching for garlic. She groaned. "You only bring me grocery shopping when it's romance-related."

That wasn't entirely wrong.

Our father might have been strict. Structured. Demanding.

But Violeta? She was sharp.

Viviana read romance novels and cried over fictional men. But she couldn't keep a secret to save her life. Violeta, on the other hand, could carry a scandal to the grave.

That's why she was here. She bumped my shoulder lightly. "At least tell me if he's worth it."

I pushed the cart forward.

"He is."

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

She froze.

"Oh my God."

I pretended to examine tomatoes.

"You admitted it. You actually like someone."

"I didn't say that."

"You said 'he is.' That tone? That's dangerous."

I ignored her. We finished shopping with her throwing guesses every few minutes.

By the time we loaded the bags into the car, she was practically vibrating.

"So where are we going to cook?" she asked suspiciously as I started the engine.

"Somewhere quiet."

"Where?"

"You'll see."

She folded her arms. "This is kidnapping."

I laughed softly. Halfway through the drive, she was still pestering me.

"Are you finally in love with your husband."

I exhaled. If only she knew.

"You didn't ask about Ronan."

That caught her off guard.

"What about Ronan?"

"He got into a fight."

Her reaction was immediate. A flicker. It was there before she masked it.

"With who?" she demanded.

"Some boys."

"Is he okay?"

"He's bruised."

She looked out the window. Then snapped, "Why are you telling me this?"

I lifted a brow. "Because you're always arguing about him."

"That doesn't mean I care."

"Really?"

She huffed. "He probably started it."

"Actually, from what I heard, he didn't."

She crossed her arms. "So why tell me?"

I smiled slightly. "You seemed invested."

She glared at me. "Focus on the road."

We bickered lightly the rest of the way.

Then she noticed the route.

"Val... this isn't the way to your house."

"I know."

"This isn't the way to Father's house either."

"I know."

She turned slowly toward me.

"Where are we going?"

I pulled onto the gravel road leading to the cabin.

Her eyes widened as the trees began to thicken around us.

"Valentina."

"Yes?"

"Why are we driving into the woods?"

"It's private."

"Private for what?"

I didn't answer. When the cabin finally came into view, she stared at it.

"Whose place is this?"

"A friend's."

She looked at me slowly.

"A male friend?"

"I thought this was for your husband."

That word. Husband. It didn't sit right in my chest the way it used to.

I said nothing.

Instead, I walked toward the large flower pot by the door and reached beneath it. My fingers brushed against the cool metal key exactly where Lucien had told me it would be.

Violeta noticed.

"You have a hidden key?"

I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

She stepped in after me  and went completely silent.

"This is not just some random place," she murmured, walking farther in. "Val... whose cabin is this?"

I busied myself placing the grocery bags on the kitchen island.

She watched me carefully.

"You're married."

Her tone wasn't accusing. Just confused. I inhaled slowly. "I know."

We worked side by side. She chopped vegetables. I seasoned the steak.

The sound of knives against the board filled the quiet space. She kept glancing at me.

"Okay. Bring me out of the dark," she said, putting the knife down. "Because I don't understand what's happening."

I kept my eyes on the pan. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Silence stretched between us.

"You're married," she continued more softly. "You're cooking in another man's cabin. You won't say his name. You look... happy. But also nervous."

She crossed her arms.

"And you won't look at me."

That made me pause. I set the spoon down slowly.

"Don't judge me," I said quietly.

Her brows lifted. "I haven't said anything yet."

"I know how this sounds."

"Then explain it so it makes sense."

For a second, I almost shut down. But this was Violeta. If I couldn't be honest with her, then who?

"I didn't choose this marriage," I started.

"You know that."

She nodded.

"I respected it. I tried to make peace with it. I tried to feel something." My voice thinned. "But I don't."

"And this... man?" she asked carefully.

I finally met her eyes.

"I feel everything."

The words felt heavy and freeing at the same time. She stared at me.

"How long?"

"Not long."

"Does he know you're married?" she asked bluntly.

A small, sad laugh escaped me.

"Yes."

That confused her more.

"Then why would he—"

"Because he doesn't care about titles," I cut in gently. "He cares about me."

The kitchen felt warmer suddenly.

"He makes me feel seen," I whispered. "He's intentional. He doesn't hide what he wants. And when he looks at me..."

I shook my head. "I don't feel like someone trapped in a contract."

Violeta's expression softened.

"Does your husband know?"

"No."

"And if he finds out?"

My stomach twisted.

"He won't."

She stepped closer. "Valentina... this is dangerous."

"I know."

"You could lose everything."

I gave her a tired smile. "Maybe I never had it."

That silenced her. She leaned against the counter, studying me carefully.

"Are you in love with him?"

The question hit harder than I expected.

"Yes."

She walked toward the stove and stirred the sauce absentmindedly.

"So this cabin..."

"Is his."

Her hand froze.

"...Oh. And you brought me here to help you cook for him?"

"Yes."

She turned slowly toward me.

"And you trust me with this?"

"I trust you more than anyone."

That softened her completely. She stepped forward and hugged me suddenly.

"You're insane," she muttered into my shoulder.

I laughed weakly. "I know."

"But I won't judge you."

Relief flooded me so suddenly I almost cried. She pulled back and looked at me seriously.

"But if this man ever hurts you, I will personally set him on fire."

Despite everything, I laughed.

"That's why I brought you."

"One more thing," Violeta said, crossing her arms.

I knew that tone. "What?" 

"Who is he?"

Silence. The only sound in the cabin was the soft simmering from the stove.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Don't do that. Don't go quiet on me. If I'm keeping your secret, I deserve to know who I'm keeping it from."

"It's not that simple."

"Then make it simple."

I looked down at the knife in my hand. Then at the ring on my finger.mThen back at her.

"It's Lucien."

The name left my mouth softly. For a second, she didn't react. Then her brows slowly pulled together.

"...Lucien?"

"Yes."

She blinked. "...Lucien as in..." She laughed nervously. "No, wait. There are a lot of Luciens in this world."

I didn't laugh. Her smile faded. Her eyes widened.

"Valentina."

I said nothing. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"You don't mean—"

I forced myself to hold her gaze.

"Lucien Ambrose."

The color drained from her face.

"Your husband's son?"

The words came out disbelieving. I nodded.

She actually took a step back.

"What?"

"That Lucien?" she asked again, like maybe she'd heard wrong. "Ambrose's son? The one who lives in the same house? The one who sits at the same dinner table?"

"Yes."

She dragged a hand through her hair.

"Oh my God."

Her eyes searched my face like she was looking for a punchline. "This isn't funny."

"I'm not joking."

She paced once across the kitchen. "You're in love with your husband's son?"

The words sounded brutal when she said them like that.

I flinched.

"When you say it like that, it sounds—"

"It sounds exactly like what it is," she cut in.

Silence filled the cabin again. She turned to me sharply.

"Does he love you?"

"Yes."

There was no doubt about it. And saying it reduced some load from my chest.