Chapter 44 A Legacy's Keeper
Rosanns POV~
I sat at my desk, as the lamplight shone over over board’s vote to freeze all of Valenticia's assets, the document a betrayal that had my hands trembling with anger. At first, the news — a brisk email from the board leader, Larson, expressing “concerns” after Natasha’s forged agreement — had been a pain, a violation of my family’s history as he had stated. My granddaughter, Valenticia, was struggling to regain her position, and they had the nerve to frame her. I balled the paper up in my hand, white-knuckled, angry and threw it away. A memory flooded back — my son, Valenticia’s father, laughing in this room before that damned crash took him in 1999. His death fed my pledge: I would protect Valenticia, no matter the cost.
Larson’s self-satisfied face tormented me. Three days ago, he’d called me, his voice greasy, and asked for a face-to-face meeting. “We need to talk about Valenticia’s … suitability,” he had said, badmouthing her as a “fraud” and “unstable.” He was spewing nastiness, and I’d cut him off, my voice cold. “Enough, Larson. My granddaughter is the future of Clawford. Don’t test me.” He’d retracted it, but the insistence remained. I had them both in my sights, I suspected him now, to be an agent to Galden, a man with a price on his loyalty, but I wanted proof.
Last night, in the moonless sky of Seryne, I had met a private detective in a shadowed alley near the docks, “Get the dirt on Larson,” I’d told him, passing a folder of leads — bank records, ancient emails. “I know Galdèn’s behind this.” He’d nodded, his eyes hard. I paced in the estate, seething with fury, and called the board secretary at midnight. “Emergency meeting, tomorrow morning,” I said, my voice leaving no room for an argument. “No excuses.” She fumbled out an “okay” word and I hung up, my determination deepening.
Morning came, and I marched into the Clawford boardroom, my silver hair pinned back, wearing a navy suit. The board members were seated, looking a bit uncomfortable and defiant in equal measure, Larson sat in the center, his smirk faint and maddening. The room stilled at my entry. A manilla folder sat on the table, its contents the detective's work from the night before. “Larson,” I started, my tone cutting, “you pushed to have Valenticia’s assets frozen based on a lie. But you’re the traitor.”
Murmurs and gasps of shock spread through the room and Larson’s smirk quivered. I opened the file, exposing bank statements. “Our accounts trace back to a Galden shell company—Nexus Ventures. You’ve been running money, undermining my granddaughter.” The case against him was airtight — wire transfers, encrypted emails, the works, all tying him to Galden’s web. I leaned in, staring at him. "Starting from this moment, I restore the assets of Valenticia. Betray my family and you’re done.” The board murmured; some nodding, others pale. Larson glanced toward Gregor, who sat quietly. The glance which looked like a sort of momentary sign — scared me, indicating that they had something going on.
As the meeting adjourned, with the board members filling out, and Larson slipping away, Gregor stepped closer, his smile sweet, and disarming. “ Grandmother, you were fabulous,” he added, his voice soft. “You’re all Valenticia needs.”
“Save it, Gregor,” I interrupted, my voice cold. “I’m watching you.” He smiled faintly and nodded, as he withdrew.
Back at the estate garden, I stood backing Gregor against a marble fountain. “Nexus payments, Gregor,” I grumbled in a low voice. “You’re bankrolling Galden’s attacks against Valenticia.” He blinked, his denial came in swift and polished. “Aunt, you’re mistaken. I’d never harm my family.” He looked honest, but I’d detected a little unease in him at the board meeting, a twitch I’d dismissed as me overthinking. Now, it screamed guilt. A memory came to my mind―Gregor’s face three years before, when Valenticia was first brought back, smiling but with the corners of his lips drawn, the smile envious, as if her return had somehow stolen his spot. I grew ever more suspicious knowing he’d come for her soon, I was certain.
“Family?” I snapped, stepping closer. “You wanted my son's inheritance, now you aim Valenticia’s. Cross her and you will have me to face.” His face went a little pale, but he nodded and mumbled, “Yes, Grandmother.” With my heart heavy, I turned away and walked away.
When Valenticia returned from Stefan’s cabin in a rumpled green dress that set off the flash of her eyes, I called her to my study. “Right, Child, you need to go to the Lovtan summit,” I insisted, with a stubborn tone to my voice. “Stand against the rumors, and Seryne will see your strength. ” She nodded, her jaw locked, as tough as I was. I plunged my hand inside a box of velvet and drew forth a hairpin of jade, very finely carved, a possession of the Clawford family. “Put this on,” I told her, pinning it to her dark hair, my hands shaking. “You’re our legacy, Valenticia.” Her eyes softened and she embraced me and said, “I wouldn't fail you, Grandmother.”
I could not sleep that night in the oppressive silence of the estate. I strolled over to the cracked mahogany table in the room which was once my son’s office. Restless, I opened a drawer, and my fingers brushed a hidden panel. It clicked open and from within it a small folded letter fell out, yellow with time. I held my breath as I unfolded it, the Galden crest fierce against the paper. Dated 1999, it described a “Lovtan experiment” with Dr. Marrow, signed by a Galden official: Subject V’s memory protocol finished. Crash secured. My heart thrummed – Valenticia, was Subject V? The death of her parents, and her amnesia, were all planned? Did Gregor know? I tucked the letter into my safe, my resolve hardening.
I would protect Valenticia in any way I could, even if it would damn me.