Chapter 15 Mystery Night
Stefan's POV-
I leaned back in my leather chair, the Seryne skyline glittering outside my office window. My assistant, Carter, slid a dossier across the polished mahogany desk, his movements crisp, as ever. “Everything on Valenticia Clawford, sir,” he said, his voice short.
I opened the folder, and then came her photo — her silver dress, her posture. A strange feeling twisted in my chest, sharp and unwelcome. She wasn’t merely the desperate woman I’d sat down beside in my car, fleeing from abductors in her ripped gown.
She was the Clawford heiress.
Her brazen gala invitation to dinner — direct and without the usual scheming attached — stuck in my brain. The majority of women who came to me were wanting something—money, influence, a hold in my world. That greed wasn't in Valenticia’s eyes.
It was intriguing to me, and I didn’t like being intrigued.
My empire, New Dream Corporation, was in a cold war with the Clawford Group. It was a lucrative land deal, prime real estate that could turn the tide of power in Seryne. And my hundred-million-dollar bid at the gala wasn’t simply a flex, it was a message to every player in the room—Stefan Myles does not lose. But Valenticia’s ability to move things around shook things up. Carter said she’d gotten a mid-level analyst position at Clawford, under Rosanna’s direction.
A clever move.
She was observing, scheming, probably smelling the same rot I’d suspected in Gregor Clawford.
My jaw clenched as I thumbed through the dossier.
Weeks ago, Gregor had come to me, full of smiles and unspoken promises, alluding to some secret partnership we had to take down Rosanna’s control. His ambition sounded like desperation, but I’d humored him, and kept him around to see how he was planning to make his play.
Valenticia’s appointment could change that.
If she was half as sharp as her gala speech implied, she’d unearth Gregor’s schemes — and mine by extension. I couldn’t do that, not with the land deal.
I put the dossier away, my thoughts turning to something I buried in my mind. My father’s voice, guttural and insistent, rang from years back: “You need to get married Stefan and secure the legacy.” I’d sneered, twenty-five and untouchable, building New Dream from scratch. Marriage was a prison, a diversion from the empire I’d built. A woman’s image flickered in my mind, her laughter coiling away, silent.
I had buried and kept it a memory.
It was ruthlessness that had kept me alive, that had kept me ahead. Her fire, her defiance, challenged that. She made me feel, and I hated her for that.
“Have eyes on her,” I said to Carter, speaking in a hush. “Every move, every contact. If she’s investigating Gregor’s business, I want to know.”
Carter nodded, and he was already tapping on his tablet. “ Rumor has it, she’s been questioning things in the finance department. Gregor’s people are nervous.”
“Good,” I said, my stomach churning. Nervous men made mistakes, and mistakes could be fatal. I told myself it was strategy, not sentiment, behind my caring. But imagining her under Gregor’s gunsight filled me with a protectiveness, one that I disguised.
That night, I stepped out of the office and drove to a shadowy warehouse on the outskirts of the city, where secrets were traded as currency. Inside sat Gideon Allain, his body hunched over a laptop. He’d been loyal ever since I’d bailed him out of hacking charges years ago, a debt he repaid with information no one else could touch.
The air reeked of oil and rust, and the warehouse’s concrete floor was cool.
“What’ve you got?” I asked, cutting to the chase.
Gideon’s fingers moved over the keys, calling up an encrypted file. “Gregor’s been busy. “Offshore accounts” funneled through a shell company called Nexis Solutions. Millions drained over the past year. Dates coincide with various… incidents.” He looked at me, the meaning clear.
I remembered Valenticia: fleeing from those men, her voice hoarse, filled with fear. “The kidnapping?” I asked, my voice even even though my chest was blazing.
“Likely,” Gideon said. “Payments spiked around then. Nexis is a front, and Gregor isn’t as clever as he believes.”
I paced around still processing. Gregor’s betrayal could ruin the land deal if it were to go public. Even worse, Valencia was targeting him too. If she had discovered those accounts, she was a target. My grip on the phone in my pocket tightened at the thought. “Dig deeper,” I told Gideon. “I want names, I want dates, I want the whole thing. And discover if Valenticia’s tapped into Clawford’s records.”
He nodded and returned to his keyboard. I walked out of the warehouse, the night air was cold against my body. My driver waited with the car’s engine purring. I climbed into the backseat, my brain whirring. Valenticia was the issue. But I couldn't get her out of my mind that night at the gala, her smile real, her invitation for dinner with no hidden agenda. She was different, and that made her dangerous in ways I didn’t expect.
Carter’s name flashed in and my phone buzzed. I answered, his voice urgent. “My security caught my login from an unfamiliar source. It’s the credentials of Valenticia, currently active. She’s in the system, deep.”
My blood ran cold. She was alone in the office, going through restricted files.
If Gregor’s people found her … “Where is she?” I demanded.
“Finance department, main building. Security’s been notified, but I don’t know who’s responding.”
I didn’t hesitate. “I’m going there. Now.” I snapped at the driver to take me to Clawford Corporation, the car jerking forward. Valenticia was walking into a tight trap, and I couldn’t let her fall — not because I cared, I told myself, but because she was a piece in all of this.
The streets were quiet, too quiet, as we approached Clawford’s tower.
My phone went silent, and Carter’s updates stopped. I scanned the road, my instincts prickling. Then a headlights flared up behind us, too close, too fast. A black SUV revved up, its tinted windows consuming the streetlights. My driver stepped heavier on the gas, but the SUV mirrored our speed, creeping closer.
“Get us out of here,” I said sharply, my hand on the door handle. The SUV swerved, cutting us off, and forced my driver to slam the brake.
My pulse quickened, and every sense heightened. This wasn’t random.
The sudden crack of a gunshot split the air. The windshield shattered, spraying glass inward. My driver shouted, turning the steering wheel. I ducked and the adrenaline surged as the car tumbled. Another shot was fired, hitting the hood. I saw the silhouette of the SUV, sleek, just before it drove away, its tires shrieking. I stood upright, my breath heaving, looking through the darkness.
The road was clear, the SUV no longer in sight.