Chapter 2 The house of valmere
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“Miss Valmere, your brothers are waiting for you in the conference room.”
The soft voice echoed through the marble halls as Deborah stepped out of the black car, the early morning mist curling around her heels. The scent of salt and rain clung to the air, Monaco’s coast glimmered below, quiet and perfect beneath a pale sunrise.
The Valmere Estate towered above the cliffs like a kingdom of glass and power. Every inch of it screamed wealth, the kind that didn’t need to be shown, only felt. Columns of white marble stretched toward the sky, and tall windows reflected the first light of dawn, revealing pieces of a world that never slept, private helipads, silent security drones, the faint hum of engines beneath the stone courtyard.
Deborah didn’t answer the butler. She simply nodded once, her expression composed but exhausted. The night clung to her still, the sound of gunfire, the flash of headlights, Luther Cain’s voice cutting through the storm.
“You’re the last person I should trust.”
“And yet you just did.”
She blinked the memory away.
Inside, the foyer gleamed with cold opulence. A wall of portraits lined the hall, her ancestors, each painted like royalty. Men in suits and medals. Eyes that followed her wherever she walked. And then, at the end of the corridor, her own portrait, younger, smiling, framed in gold.
It didn’t look like her anymore.
“Miss Valmere,” the butler spoke again, careful, almost nervous. “Your brothers are waiting.”
Her brothers.
Her kings.
The six men who ruled the Valmere Empire, and her life.
She inhaled slowly, straightened her spine, and walked down the hall.
\---
The conference room was a cathedral of glass and power.
Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the sea, but the focus was inside, a massive table made of black glass, glowing with live data streams. World maps pulsed with market movements. Stock charts bled red.
And around that table sat her brothers, the most powerful men alive.
Caelum, the eldest, sat at the head, calm and unreadable. Every decision in this empire began and ended with him. His composure was the kind that came from never being questioned.
Lysander, smooth and smiling, tapped his pen against a report. The charmer of senators, the silencer of rivals. His every word could end a career or start a war.
Lucio, sleeves rolled up, temper barely contained. The fire of the family. Loyal to the bone, dangerous to cross.
Aston, the quiet tactician, eyes on the screen, already three moves ahead of everyone else.
Knight, the watcher in the shadows, the family’s eyes and ears, fluent in secrets.
And Casper, the youngest of the six, silent, observant, terrifyingly perceptive. He never spoke unless it mattered.
Seven Valmeres in one room meant only one thing, crisis.
Caelum’s voice was smooth as steel.
“You decided to return.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Deborah replied, keeping her tone level. “Someone ambushed me on the runway.”
Six pairs of eyes turned to her instantly. Lucio half-rose from his seat. “What? Who?”
“I don’t know,” she lied. “They were masked. Professional.”
“And your guards?” Aston asked.
“Two injured. The rest… shaken.”
Caelum’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I know.”
“So tell me,” Lysander murmured, swirling his coffee, “who saved you?”
Her pulse stuttered. For a fraction of a second, her composure cracked, and Lucien saw it.
“You paused,” Lucien said softly, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“I didn’t.”
“You did,” Lysander echoed, leaning forward with predatory interest. “Which means whoever saved you… shouldn’t have.”
Deborah clenched her hands under the table, hiding the tremor. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here. That’s what counts.”
Caelum slid a tablet across the table toward her. “No, what counts, sister, is this.”
The screen showed a headline flashing across global networks:
\[ BREAKING NEWS: CAIN DOMINION WITHDRAWS FROM VALMERE DEFENSE MERGER — MARKETS IN FREEFALL \]
The room darkened as the screen refreshed with data, numbers plummeting, currencies crashing, statements from politicians and CEOs flooding the ticker.
Caelum’s tone stayed calm, but the venom underneath was unmistakable.
“After six years of partnership, Luther Cain pulled out overnight. Without warning. No negotiation. No courtesy call.”
Lucio slammed a hand on the table. “That bastard! We built that deal together. Billions—”
“Trillions,” Aston corrected softly. “And our global credibility.”
Caelum’s eyes shifted back to Deborah. “The Cains don’t move without reason. You were in Geneva when it happened. So tell me… what did he want from you?”
Deborah’s throat tightened. “You think I had something to do with this?”
“I think,” Caelum said, rising from his chair, “that you were with the only man powerful enough to ruin us in a single night.”
The air in the room froze.
Lysander leaned forward, voice smooth but sharp.
“Did you meet him, Deborah?”
“No.”
“Did he contact you?”
“No.”
“Did he save you?” Knight asked, quiet and cold.
She hesitated again, one heartbeat too long.
Caelum’s eyes hardened. “You will tell us if he did.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “You have my word.”
It wasn’t a lie. It was a survival tactic.
\---
Later, she walked the silent halls of the estate, her heels echoing against the marble. Servants disappeared when she passed. The Valmere household had learned to fear tension, and tonight, it filled the air like smoke.
She stopped at the large window overlooking the sea. The horizon shimmered gold with dawn. Somewhere out there, across the water, Cain Dominion’s headquarters rose from the heart of the city, black glass and firelight.
Her phone buzzed.
\[Luther Cain: You’re safe. That’s what matters. Stay quiet. Trust me, even if you can’t forgive me.\]
Her fingers trembled as she locked the screen. Trust him? After what he’d done? After the chaos he’d unleashed?
And yet… her heart still betrayed her.
Because she remembered the way his hand had reached through the rain to pull her out of the dark, the warmth in his voice when everything else was cold.
She pressed a hand to the glass, whispering,
\[“Why did you save me?”\]
\---
Beneath her, hidden below the estate, a different kind of silence filled the security command room. Screens flickered with global news, and surveillance footage from Geneva.
Knight Valmere stood alone, watching one particular clip. Rain, headlights, gunfire. And then, a tall man in black stepping out of the shadows to pull Deborah to safety.
Knight froze the frame. Zoomed in. Enhanced the image.
The face was still blurred even if he tried everything to see who is it.
He exhaled slowly, lips curling into a cold, knowing smile.
“Well,” he murmured to himself, “looks like our little sister have a knight in shining armour.”