Chapter 49 Breaking point
Natasha's POV~
Vakette’s beaten-down office smelled like stale coffee and despair, its tattered walls reflecting my disintegrating universe. I’d sat at the scuffed desk, my laptop blaring with headlines of Valenticia’s Lovtan summit victory: Clawford Heiress Debunks Faked Video, Returns Star. Her poise! My chest was being clawed with frustration, my nails cutting into the palms of my hands, blood welling. Dmitri, flopped across the room, rumpled from a suit, eyes glued on financials, hopes to save Vakette from going bankrupt.
“You’re pointless,” I hissed. “She’s dancing on our grave and you’re counting pennies?” He never said a word, which felt like a betrayal, and just made my anger worse. “Pathetic worm,” I spat, lowered and vindictive. “You would rather kiss Valenticia’s feet than fight for us!”
I saw him flinch a bit, but it only fueled my rage.
A flashback took me—our engagement months years ago, a Seryne rooftop shimmering with hope. Dmitri had been kneeling, with his ring and his voice was hot: “Natasha, together you and I, we’re going to build an empire.” I had taken him at his word, his wealth a wall around him, but here, Vakette bled dry, and his hollow promises stood exposed. I was filled with envy—Valenticia’s beauty, her control over Stefan, how Dmitri still loved her…it was a fire I couldn’t put out.
That afternoon, I fled to a Lovtan rooftop bar, the skyline view a cruel counterpoint to my misery. Haisley Pierce had been waiting, and her blood-red dress was sharp, her eyes bright with venom shared. Surprise tore through me—her being here served as a source of hope. “Haisley,” I said, lowering my voice and sliding into the booth.
“Valenticia’s untouchable. Your memo failed—what now?”
She grinned, pushing a tablet over. “File Project V—Galden’s serum wiped Valenticia’s memory in ‘99. She was their experiment.” I sucked in my breath, the words a weapon. “We leak this,” Haisley urged, her voice cutting. “Convince the world she’s a Galden lab rat, make her testimony worthless.” I blinked at the file, a grainy black-and-white picture of a kid — Valenticia? —in a clinic bed. My brain screamed hesitancy, the spurt of fear that Dmitri would rage if he ever found out, his soft spot for her was a chain around me. What if he leaves me? I thought, and sensed the dread coiling in my chest, but I kept it silent, my face a mask.
“You’re sure?” I questioned my voice even against it. Haisley leaned in, her voice sharp. “Do it, Natasha, or she takes us down with her. Gregor and Lila are waiting at the safehouse—standing to take her down if you’re in.” She used her venom to prod me, her ambition a reflection of my own. I nodded, my heart pounding. “I’m in,” I said, my voice a promise, though terror smothered it down. She grinned, fiercely. “Good. Safehouse, tonight.”
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I was headed down Lovtan’s neon streets, the engine of my Mercedes purring, when a turbulent storm of conflicting thoughts began to swirl. The leak of the serum might destroy Valenticia, but I couldn’t get Dmitri’s response out of my head—his slurred mumblings of her name, his betrayal of Gregor. I’m losing him, I thought, and my grip trimmed, but I’ll kill her first. But doubt gnawed: had I been Gregor’s pawn, not Haisley’s friend? The safehouse appeared as a warehouse beside the door, its rusted door a gate to my doom or triumph.
Inside, it was dark and smelly, with crates casting shadows. Lila sat up, leather jacket glittering, smirk cruelty on her lips. Gregor sprawled next to him, his suit pressed and clean had brotherly ambition shining out of his eyes—a scheming enemy lusting for Clawford’s place. “Natasha,” Lila murmured, throwing me a vial of clear liquid, bright and shining. “Galden serum sample. Put it in the office of Valenticia — frame her for corporate espionage.” I inhaled sharply, the vial cold in my hand. “Why this?” I said sternly, heart pounding with fear that I steered too far from allowing myself to think.
Gregor smirked, his voice smooth. “She’s a threat, Natasha. That puts her out and I take Clawford.” His ambition was stripped, and his chain of loyalty to Galden was also mine. Lila’s eyes darted between us, nodding faintly, and suspicion burst into flame—her allegiance was to him, not to me. “Do it,” she snapped, her voice steely, “or Vakette is dust.” I nodded, and I was a prisoner, and Gregor’s smile made it certain I was his creature.
Vakette’s chamber was a rotting tooth, the walls lined with dying green, the lights flickering on and off and casting shadows across my fury. Dmitri, hunched at his desk, papers scattered, his face registering defeat. I clicked my heels, the serum vial burning in my bag, but I needed his money to finance Haisley’s leak. “Dmitri,” I snapped, my voice cutting, “we’re been leaking Valenticia as a Galden experiment. Pay for it, or we’re done.” He glanced up, and a blaze of light in his eyes, his anger a jolt that paralyzed me. “I talked to Valenticia,” he bellowed, rising from his chair and pounding the table with his fist. “She’s beyond us, Natasha! You’re chasing fucking ghosts, and I’m not bleeding anymore for your hate!” His agony for her, raw and powerful, cut me to the heart and even surprised me.
“You traitor!” I screamed, jealousy searing. “You’d take her over Vakette, over me?” I leaned close, venom dripping. “I’ll tell Father you stole his company—Waylen will destroy you.” His expression wrinkled in pain and fury, but he snatched up his coat, his voice low and deadly. “Do it, and you’ll burn too.” And with that, he abandoned me, slamming the door, and I was left alone, my control slipping, the office’s silence killing me.
I disguised myself that night as a cleaner, a gray smock and cap pulled low, my pulse racing as I ghosted into Clawford’s Seryne tower. The security guard hardly gave my fake ID a look, and I swept through the halls with a mop, unnoticed. Valenticia’s office was staring back, its glass door black. I broke the lock and pushed the door open, my hands shaking with fear, and crept in, the skyline of the city jeering at me through the window.
The serum vial caught the light: cold and shining, and I opened her desk drawer and shoved it under files, my hands shaking.