Chapter 5 Crown of Tomorrow
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The sky above the Valmere estate blushed in shades of morning gold when Deborah’s car swept past the iron gates. The mansion loomed like a living monument, a fusion of marble, power, and memory. Rows of fountains glittered under the sun, each one carved with the Valmere crest: a serpent coiled around a crown.
The driver opened her door. Deborah stepped out, her heels clicking against the stone path, deliberate, graceful, commanding. Even after days of corporate negotiations abroad, not a single trace of exhaustion showed on her face. Her honey-gold hair framed her features perfectly, and her eyes, clear, intelligent, and unreadable, carried the quiet authority of a woman who had learned to live under the weight of legacy.
“Welcome home, Miss Valmere,” a line of attendants greeted in unison, bowing slightly.
Deborah gave a polite nod before making her way through the grand foyer. The air smelled faintly of polished oak and roses. Portraits of the Valmere ancestors lined the walls, every face stern, watchful, as if measuring her worth from across generations.
At the top of the staircase, she saw him, Caelum, her eldest brother, leaning against the railing, arms crossed, gaze sharp as glass.
“You’re early,” he said, voice calm but carrying that familiar command that always lingered around him.
“I missed home,” Deborah replied simply, removing her gloves.
“Or you wanted to know what chaos we’re brewing for tomorrow,” Caelum countered.
A faint smile touched her lips. “Both.”
They both walk towads the council room. The Valmere council room was already alive when Deborah entered. Her brothers were gathered around the long obsidian table, a battlefield of minds rather than weapons. The holographic display in the center projected charts of global subsidiaries: Valmere Energy, Valmere Technologies, Valmere Aeronautics, Valmere Intelligence, and more. Each was a kingdom in its own right.
Knight stood near the edge, adjusting data streams on a transparent screen. Aston tapped through logistics. Lysander poured coffee like he owned the table. Lucio paced, tension burning off him like heat, while Casper sat silently, studying everything without a word.
When Deborah entered, conversation halted. She didn’t need to announce herself. She was the announcement.
“Deborah,” Knight said first, his voice low and composed, eyes flicking toward her briefly. “You’re back sooner than expected.”
“The meetings in Paris ended earlier than I thought,” she replied, taking the empty seat beside Caelum. “I heard preparations for the grand ball are… extensive.”
Lysander smirked. “Extensive is an understatement. The press, foreign ministers, investors, even royals. They all want to witness the coronation of the Valmere heiress.”
"Don’t call it that,” Deborah said, her tone cool.
“Why not?” Lucio interjected, leaning forward. “That’s what it is. You’re about to inherit control of five international branches, London, Singapore, Geneva, New York, and Dubai. It’s not just ceremony, Deb. It’s succession.”
Deborah exhaled softly, eyes lowering to the projection map. Her name blinked beside territories that now bore her mark. Power was being transferred, a public declaration that the Valmere daughter was no longer a symbol, but a player.
“It’s not succession,” she said, after a pause. “It’s expansion.”
“Semantics,” Aston murmured, adjusting his glasses. “The move shifts balance within the board. You’ll become the youngest executive to control multiple divisions at once.”
“Which makes you a target,” Knight added bluntly.
Her eyes flicked to him. “You mean politically?”
“In every way,” Caelum said before Knight could answer. “The Cain Dominion is still silent after pulling out from the merger. Silence from them is never peace, it’s preparation.”
A subtle chill passed through the room at the mention of Cain Dominion. Even Lysander’s smirk faded.
“And you think they’ll use the grand ball to send a message?” Deborah asked quietly.
“If they wanted to strike publicly, they wouldn’t,” Caelum replied. “They’ll be watching. Waiting. Testing how far we’ll go with you as a new power on the board.”
Deborah leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable. “Then let them watch. I won’t hide behind your names forever.”
Lucio slammed a hand lightly against the table. “You won’t hide, but you won’t walk into a storm alone either.”
“Lucio,” she said, meeting his glare with calm defiance, “I’ve managed international negotiations on my own. I don’t need an escort to breathe.”
“It’s not about breathing, it’s about survival,” Knight cut in. “The threats we deal with aren’t metaphorical. You’ve seen what happened in Geneva.”
She froze, a flicker of the memory flashing behind her eyes, the sound of shattered glass, the blur of danger, and Luther Cain’s face in the chaos.
“I remember,” she said softly. “But I also remember surviving it.”
"Who saved you?."
The silence that followed was heavy, until Lysander, always the diplomat, broke it with a smooth laugh.
“Let’s not ruin the mood before the champagne’s even chilled,” he said. “Tomorrow is about celebration, not suspicion.”
“Celebration, yes,” Caelum said, “but discipline first.”
He turned toward Deborah, sliding a sleek folder across the table. Inside were the finalized transfer documents, authorization codes, signatures, and financial indexes worth billions.
“Review and sign these before the event,” he instructed. “At the grand ball, your position will be announced publicly. You’ll represent the next phase of our empire.”
Deborah scanned the papers in silence. Every word was precise, binding, a crown written in ink.
“And after I sign?” she asked.
“After you sign,” Caelum said, “you stop being our little sister in the eyes of the world. You become Valmere in full, not a name, but an institution.”
Her throat tightened, not out of fear, but something more complicated. For years, she’d lived in the shadow of their greatness. Now, that same shadow was preparing to hand her the sun.
“And if the world comes for me?” she asked quietly.
Lucio leaned forward, eyes dark. “Then the world burns.”
Knight didn’t speak, but his gaze was enough, cold promise beneath calm restraint.
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When the meeting ended, Deborah lingered alone in the grand hall. The chandeliers above were dimmed, throwing long, soft shadows across the marble floor. She walked slowly past the portraits of her brothers, painted when they were younger, a legacy in motion.
Her reflection shimmered faintly in the glass walls. For a brief moment, she saw herself not as a Valmere, not as an heiress, not as an empire, but as a woman standing at the edge of something irreversible.
Tomorrow, she would step into the light. Tomorrow, her name would mean power. And tomorrow night, every eye, including his, would be watching.
Deborah’s lips curved faintly. “Let them watch,” she whispered to herself.