Chapter 54 A glimpse of my memory
Valenticias POV~
I’d ditched the silver gala gown for a cream sweater whose softness felt like flimsy consolation compared with the “Galden lab rat” leak that scraped my soul. Rosanna’s warning about Gregor, the part he’d played in my forgetting, resounded, the weight of the jade hairpin snuggly in my hair, a connection to a history that otherwise might slip entirely from my grasp.
What if I’m running from a lie I can’t bear to face? I climbed up the grand staircase, the silence of the hallway punctuated by a series of thuds, each breath shallow as I looked for Grandmother in her room. The oak door groaned open and she stood revealed by a crackling blaze, silver hair shining about her, fierce eyes but with a softness, a warrior’s glance as softened by love. Staring at her I could feel my resolve break. Hot tears seared, flowing and I fell at her feet on my knees, heaving with sobs. “Grandmother, why?” I choked, the words raw and the fear spilling over. “Gregor—my past—what did he do to me? Why am I Subject V?” My hands shook, a child’s fear of the unknown, horror pounding that the awful truth would shatter me.
Rosanna went to her knees, her scent of lavender sharp, her arms a fortress. Her voice came out, thick with feeling. “Oh, my child — I found a ledger in your father’s secret safe, I deciphered it at dawn. Back in ’99, Gregor paid Dr. Marrow for a serum — to wipe your memory, to stop your parents from fighting Galden’s greed.” Her words hurt. There had been—a memory flared— Gregor’s voice in a bare chamber, cool and, commanding: “She’ll forget.” I gasped, terrified and furious. “He betrayed them—us?” The truth is although I whispered, my voice shook and I looked into her eyes, nothing. “Yes,” she said, squeezing my hand. “He took Galden’s hold, Valenticia, but you’re stronger than him. You have a Clawford’s heart.” Her faith anchored me, but fear persisted — what if it wasn’t enough? I brushed my tears away, my determination clear. “I’ll find him,” I whispered, “I’ll track him down and force him to pay for taking my past.” Rosanna smiled fiercely. “That’s my girl. We’ll expose him, together.”
Later that night in my room, my thoughts swirled—Marrow’s message, Seryne's summit, tomorrow, Rosanna’s scroll, my past of nothingness. Fear kept me up. What if I’m a pawn in all of this? I reached for my phone, longing for Stefan’s voice but my finger hesitated. I sighed and stretched, then reached over to the nightstand, my fingers grazing the glass bottle of sleeping pills. The acrid taste dissolved across my tongue as I emptied two, darkness yanking me down, a brief relief from the fear devouring me.
By morning, Rosanna passed me a small recorder and, despite the pain in her eyes, somehow she had a voice so steady, gripping even, I half-believed I had conjured her grief. “this is him.” I hit play, and Gregor’s voice oozed through, smug and cold: “Valenticia’s past is buried out of sight – she’s no longer a threat to us.” My blood roared, my fear turned into rage, my teacup clinking in its saucer. “He believes he’s won,” I said, my voice low and filled with rage. “Not yet.” Rosanna, said, as she nodded. “We’ll make him face his lies in public, Valenticia, where the truth will rise and he can’t hide from his lies. The board, the press — they’ll all see.”
The library doors burst wide and Elaine swept in, auburn hair frazzled, her laptop aglare with an eery urgency. “I tracked the last payment for Marrow,” she said, eyes wild, plopping the laptop on the table. “Seryne, a run-down clinic … Gregor was the one that bought the serum.” I sat on the edge, determination hardening me. “We do not barge in,” I said, looking over at Rosanna. “We draw Gregor to the clinic, pull off a plan— cameras, board members. Bring out the truth out in the open.” Rosanna’s eyes sparkled with pride. “Clever, child. Elaine, get hold of the press, say tomorrow.” Elaine smiled, her fingers tapping at her keyboard. “I’ll leak the address, make it appear as though Gregor’s informer.” “He’s going to walk into his trap.” I drank my tea, the warmth anchoring me, but fear in me murmured: What if Gregor makes the first move?
The evening was silent until when the whisper of a maid’s knock pierced the library. “Miss Clawford,” she said softly, “Security found this in the mailbox—someone just brought it in.” She gave me a sealed envelope; her hands were shaking a little.
My heart drummed in my chest, suspicion rising. I ripped it open, the words black on cream paper: Clawford vault, tomorrow. Your truth is alive." —M. I sucked in a breath. Marrow? Was that you again? My heart pounded the note a guide to a truth I both longed for and opposed.