Chapter 48 The resolve
Valenticia's POV~
Tension throbbed through the Lovtan summit hall, its marble columns soaring as I rose to my feet and took the podium, my sapphire gown shimmering in the light of the massive chandelier. My heart was beating hard, the sting of the forged memo implicating me in a merger scam, but I channelled Rosanna’s advice: you command, never waver. The room silenced, pens of reporters still, and I started, “The lies—are doctored memos, fake audios—serve to rip Clawford up. Today, I unearth their fraud: Nexus Ventures’ payments, which I tracked down with my team, built this scam. Here’s the proof.” I lifted a slate, Elaine’s Nexus entries. “I am Clawford’s daughter, and we'll rise, unbowed.” The crowd was on its feet the moment I finished speaking, and then there was a deafening applause, and I felt untouchable.
I surveyed the room, making eye contact with Larson, the board mole, who shifted nervously — the guilty party. I saw through his face.
I didn't go home.
I stayed back, feeling the residue of the summit’s energy stuck on me. In a suite at Clawford, the world muffled with velvet drapes, I sat on a chair, my heels kicked off, jade hairpin weighty in my hair. My little clutch came open, and Dmitri’s note floated out, crumpled from when Elaine had given it to me before the speech. “From Dmitri,” she had said, her eyes warily fixed on him. “Read it later.” I’d stowed it, my mind at the summit, but now, alone, I pulled it out, his scrawl shaky: Valenticia, I was wrong. Meet me, please.
Forgive me. My stomach turned: His plea was from our past, three years earlier, when he’d served divorce papers, his coldness shattering me. But pity rose in him — he was drowning, Vakette sinking under his and Natasha’s plots.
I picked up the phone, hesitated and then dialled, my voice strong. “Dmitri, it’s me. At the west garden, top of the summit, ten minutes. Don’t waste my time.” He stammered his assent, and I hung up, my will solidifying.
I slid on my heels, and stepped outside, where the night air felt fresh against my skin. The garden was a dim enclave, jasmine blossoming, fairy lights smudging the shadows. Dmitri waited there, his suit wrinkled, eyes haunted. A clear indication of the destruction of Vakette weighing on him like a scar. He went on, his tone is full of self-pity. “Valenticia, I’m sorry. I lost you, and now Vakette is bankrupt—my business was bad; Natasha’s schemes cost me enough. I don’t know what to do.”
His need was naked, his eyes begging for a glimmer of what we’d had. “I miss you,” he said softly as his hand went for mine. “I was a fool.” My heart fluttered — memories of our old love rushed back into the light — but I retreated, my voice cold, and cutting. “You lost me, Dmitri. Vakette is your problem now, not mine.” His regretful eyes were starting to glisten with unshed tears, and so, too, was his failure, which I pitied but wouldn’t turn my back as I walked away.
The summit garden was a sanctuary, jasmine blooming in the moonlight, its sweetness enveloping me like a cloak. I could still feel my heart racing from Dmitri’s plea, the haunted look in his eyes that was a burden I’d wanted to leave behind, but the silence was lulling. Stefan slid out of the darkness at my back, summoned away during my speech by a muffled conversation concerning some new New Dream deal. The navy sweater hugged his body, his smile a twinkle in the darkness. “You were brilliant with your speech there, Valenticia,” he said, voice warm, stepping closer. “You owned that room.” He brushed against my sapphire as his hand lingered there, giving me goosebumps. "You're relentless," he muttered, his breath hot against my ear.
I pressed on him, daring, my lips stroking his jaw with a kiss so light and gentle, that his body turned warm. “Only because you’re here,” I whispered, my voice teasing, and we tucked into each other, closed like a fortress against that world. He laughed, his arm going around my waist so he could press me to him, flush. “Easy, heiress, you’re playing with fire.” I smiled, running my fingers along his collar. “Maybe I like the burn.” His eyes hardened, playful glint, and he turned my face to him, our faces inches from each other. “You’re trouble,” he whispered hoarsely, and I laughed, the sound alive, my heart light for the first time in days.
My phone buzzed, breaking the spell — Rosanna’s name lit up. I replied, her voice tense and hard. “I found a letter in your father’s desk, Valenticia—about a Lovtan experiment—Dr. Marrow’s work, linked to Galden. Gregor knew, child. Be careful.” I held my breath, in confusion. “Grandma, what does that mean? What experiment?” I asked, my voice trembling. She sighed, heavily. “I don’t know yet but it’s dangerous. Watch Gregor.” The call ended.
A man’s voice, rich and dictatorial, rang out in my memory. “She won’t remember.” My heart rate spiked as I recognized it — Gregor’s voice, a younger version but unmistakable. Why was he in that room with me? I felt anger rise in me, checked by Stefan’s hand, firm upon my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” he asked, eyes searching. I shook my head, voice tight. “Gregor’s keeping something—something about my past. I’ll confront him, Stefan. I have to.” He just nodded, held my hand and grounded me with a strong grip. “We’ll take him together,” he said, his determination a spark I held onto.
The moment was interrupted as my phone glowed, a text from Elaine: Dr. Marrow is alive, in Seryne. Meet me tomorrow. My heart was pounding faster, the words a secret to the void. I squeezed Stefan’s hand, his heat grounding me, as I prepared to find out the truth about who I was.