Chapter 13 Misjudged
Valenticia’s POV:
The next morning came with an unfamiliar heaviness. I woke early, the nervous fluttering in my chest forcing me to get out of bed before the sun was even fully up. After a long, warm bath, changing into a minimalist navy-blue dress, tying the hair into a little knot, I did not wear anything flashy no jewelry, no heels, no designer bag. Just me.
I padded down the stairs. It was quiet in the house, peaceful. I went to the kitchen and made myself a pot of tea. Green, strong, unsweetened. I drank it slowly, the heat soothing my nerves as I looked out the window. Today wasn't about status. It was about learning. Watching and listening.
My grandmother came in soon after. She greeted me with a warm smile, dark eyes flicking up and down my outfit with quiet approval, or maybe disbelief.
“Do you want me to go with you?” she inquired, walking into the room.
I turned to her, my tea cradled in both hands. "No, Grandma. I want to explore alone today… I want to see things on my own."
She hesitated, clearly torn between pride and concern. “I understand. But I’ve already told the important personnels. They’ll be expecting you. They’re waiting.”
I nodded. “That’s okay.”
She had the look that she wanted to say more, but she managed to not say anything just giving me a nod.
Rather than take the black car waiting outside, I walked down the block and hailed a cab. I didn’t want to arrive at the office in a polished vehicle with tinted windows, with a sign that read “She’s the heir!” No. That was not the way I wanted to make an entrance.
There was nothing theatrical or controlling about this. I needed clarity. I needed to look at things as they were — without a privilege lens.
The cab was old but clean. As I told the driver the address for the company, he peered into the rearview mirror, probably wondering why someone who looked like me was not being chauffeured. I didn’t care.
If I wanted to take that company today, I could’ve walked in there and taken the top floor. Claimed a title. Sitting behind a large desk with an huge number of assistants and Gregor grinning stiffly at me across the room. But what would that prove?
No. I needed to know the truth.
If I entered as the heiress, they’d all bow and smile — and I’d never know who meant it. I wouldn’t hear the whispers, the veiled alliances, the true faces behind rehearsed greetings. Most of all, I wouldn’t know which of Gregor’ was under his control and which wasn’t.
I had no doubt he had spent years cultivating silent loyalties. People like him never just sat. They sowed seeds, made assurances, dispensed favors. And now, having returned to claim what he’d assumed was his — well, I would be a threat.
The truth would be buried behind phony respect and stilted handshakes. I wouldn’t see the cracks.
And I had to approach it differently. A position not too high. And not too low. A place where I could watch, ask questions, and keep a low profile while also having just enough authority to roam and read people effectively.
I had to talk less and listen more. And I had to hear rhose whispers. The things that people weren’t saying out loud.
Power was not merely caused by the position.
It was being in on the secrets.
As the cab pulled up in front of the high-rise glass building. My heart skipped a tiny beat when I sighted the name gleaming in silver along the top: Clawford Corporation. My family’s company. Or… soon to be mine.
I sucked in a slow, stabilizing breath and stepped out of the cab, smoothing the front of my dress. No media. No bodyguards. Just me and my plan.
As I entered the lobby, the doors opened before me. Shiny floors, smooth walls, employees in tailored suits. All of them seemed to know where they were going. I liked that.
But I had barely taken five steps when a woman got in my way.
She looked strikingly tall, with sharp features and a pencil skirt. A badge pinned to her chest identifed her: Secretary — Rita. Her mouth twisted into a smile that was polite but not quite sincere.
“Excuse me, miss. Is there something I can help you with?” She had a clipped, almost suspicious tone.
“I’m here to see the manager,” I said coolly as I fiddled with the strap on my bag. “I’m a new worker. He’s meant to give me my position.”
Rita blinked at me and the change in her eyes was immediate. Her eyes brushed down my body, assessing, calculating — judging. It wasn’t subtle.
“What do you mean by ‘assign your position’?” she said, her voice now sharp. “That would have been in your appointment letter.”
Appointment letter?
I paused, suddenly uneasy. Grandma hadn’t mentioned a letter. Only that I would meet the board and that I’d be coming in at a lower rank.
“I… I wasn’t given one. But the manager is aware that I’m coming. He is waiting for me,” I said.
Rita crossed her arms over her chest. “No appointment letter, no interview, and you think you can just walk in here and meet the manager? That’s not how this works.”
“I get it,” I said, trying to sound as calm as possible. “But I’m not lying. If you could just talk to the manager—”
“You know what I think?” she interrupted, her voice suddenly laced with venom. “I think you’re just like one of those girls trying to sneak in through the backdoor. Thinking you’ll smile and land yourself in the managers office. ”
I stared at her, stunned.
Was she serious?
“I’m sorry — are you suggesting I’m here to seduce someone?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
Rita sneered. “It’s happened before. Nancy did it last year—arrived just like you, insisting she had some special connection. She’s now the personal secretary to the senior manager. I know your type.”
I blinked at her, utterly thrown.
My type?
I was still processing the absurdity when she continued, voice ascending just enough to turn heads.
“Girls like you are ruining the effort the rest of us spend to make this place clean. We work hard. We earn our spots. Then you think just ‘cause you wear a pretty dress and a smooth tongue, you deserve to skip all that?
I couldn’t help it. I laughed — a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Just so I’m clear,” I said. “You think that I slept with someone to get this low level gig? That I showed up here to throw myself at a man for a desk and a chair?”
She didn’t respond, but her silence made it clear.
“I haven’t made any trouble,” I said coolly. “You can call up and check instead of assuming.”
But she moved closer, narrowing her eyes, as if to detect a lie. “You girls, you always talk the same. Innocent. Smart. But as soon as they let you through the door, you step on other people like they’re nothing.”
My blood began to simmer.
“Watch your words,” I warned.
But she didn’t back off.
“Perhaps if you didn’t walk around with a dumb-found look, and didn’t rely solely on looks, I would have believed you,” she said in a cold voice. “But I have seen enough to know what you are doing. You’re here to hide your way in. And it’s not going to work.”
“Excuse me?” I took a step forward now, my temper running thin. “I don’t know who you think you are but you don’t talk to people like this —”
“That’s how Nancy did it,” she spat. “And now you think you can do what they did? Not on my watch.”
Now she was seriously out of line.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t need to. I know your type.”
My jaw clenched. I had seconds to tell her exactly who I was. But then—
“What’s going on here?”
A strong male voice sliced through the tension.