Chapter 51 Files and System
The next day, I insisted Jack stay home because I felt his grief hadn’t even had the space to unfold properly.
It had been crushed beneath too many things happening all at once—his father’s death, Layla’s warning still echoing in my head like a low siren, Damien and my father’s shadow stretching into every corner of our lives, the fragile illusion of peace that kept cracking under pressure.
I decided he needed air. Well, so did I.
I kissed his forehead that morning, and lingered just long enough to feel him exhale, and told him softly..
“Stay home today. Just… stay.”
He looked at me with tired eyes. “I’m fine,” he murmured automatically, because that was what men like Jack Roman always said when they were anything but.
I cupped his face.
“No,” I corrected gently. “You’re not. And you don’t have to pretend with me.”
I didn’t know I had this side of me.. It's so uncanny.
Something flickered behind his gaze, something I couldn't quite place.
Then he nodded once—the smallest surrender and then I left.
Vale Corp’s headquarters rose into the sky the way it always had—tall, gleaming, and indifferent like a monument to control.
I stepped into the lobby with purpose, my heels clicking sharply against marble that cost more than most people’s annual salary. The air smelled faintly of polished stone and expensive perfume, the kind of sterile luxury that always made emotions feel out of place.
Employees greeted me:
“Ms. Elena.”
“Good morning, Ms. Vale.”
“Condolences, about Mr. Roman…”
Their voices softened on that last part but I nodded politely, and I didn't stop. I continued moving.
I crossed the lobby with a straight spine and with an unreadable expression. I didn’t take the private elevator, I got on the one filled with shocked and anxious looking employees who probably wondered why I decided to ride with them.
When the elevator doors slid open onto the executive floor, silence greeted me.
I let myself into my office without fanfare: I dropped my bag onto the side table, slipped out of my coat, and rolled up the sleeves of my blouse.
Today, there was no time for distraction.
The moment I sat behind my desk, I booted up the secure system and within a minute, the screen glowed to life.
All the encryptions and passwords were almost laughable, considering Damien had already proven that walls meant nothing when someone was determined enough.
Still, It was what I had.
I opened the travel itinerary I’d started drafting days ago for Portugal—a subsidiary that should have been routine and yet, it was strangely quiet considering the anomalies going on.
I had to set up everything and avoid any misstep.
I stared at the Lisbon branch data until the numbers began to feel like a language of their own. It looked like a coded confession.
As I printed updated internal audits, cross-referenced shipment logs, and highlighted discrepancies, my office began to fill with paper and the weight of things that didn’t make sense unless someone was deliberately making them not make sense.
My assistant appeared midmorning, tablet in hand.
“Ms. Vale?”
I didn’t look up immediately.
“Talk to me.”
She hesitated. “The Lisbon office hasn’t responded to our last three inquiries.”
That made my fingers still. “Three?”
“Yes, and… their finance director has been unavailable.” She added.
Unavailable?
I scoffed, that was corporate language for hiding.
I lifted my gaze slowly.
“Send another request. Mark it as urgent and route it through our encrypted channel, not their internal line.” I instructed.
She nodded quickly. “Understood.”
“And prepare a preliminary security brief. I want names, backgrounds and of course, every executive stationed there.” I added.
Her eyes widened slightly. “Ms. Vale… do you think it’s that serious?”
I leaned back in my chair, letting the silence stretch. “I think,” I said carefully, “that Damien doesn’t do anything halfway.”
She swallowed. “I’ll get right on it.”
By noon, my office smelled faintly of coffee and toner. The window was cracked open, letting in a breeze that felt too gentle for the war I was preparing for.
Three separate files lay open in front of me:
Portugal financial statements.
Internal risk assessments.
Travel logistics.
I wasn’t just building a folder, I was building a firewall. This trip wouldn’t be a vacation or even be a PR visit, it would be strategy dressed up in corporate language.
At some point, I paused and glanced out the window deciding to feed my eyes on something other than my system screen.
The city looked normal from up here and before I knew it, my thoughts drifted to Jack.
I pictured him in the penthouse, and hated the idea of him being wounded and still having to stand in the line of fire. But we didn’t have the luxury of time.
Then I resolved further that Portugal would mark a turning point one way or another.
A knock interrupted the spiral of my thoughts. My assistant stepped in again, holding a folder.
“Updates from legal ma'am, there’s been movement on the private equity buyout attempt in Europe.” She said.
Of course. My stomach tightened as I took the folder. “Thank you.”
She lingered with uncertainty for a moment.
“Ms. Vale… are you alright?”
The question was almost absurd.
Alright?
As if that was even a category that still applied.
I gave her a small, controlled nod. “I’m functioning.”
She seemed to understand what I meant and then the door clicked shut behind her.
I exhaled slowly.
Portugal wasn’t just about the subsidiary.
Damien had his hands deeper in Vale Corp’s international side than I’d feared, that's why I can't let my guard down.
The hours blurred as I gathered Intel, finalized security protocols and prepared formal reports, the afternoon sun began to crawl across the office floor. Then I found myself digging through one of the lower drawers of my desk.
Searching for an older client contract. It was something I remembered reviewing months ago. My fingers brushed over folders that belonged to the Manila subsidiary, USB drives and paperclips until I stopped at the sight of something that laid await beneath the pile of documents.
The photograph—the exact one I'd discovered in my office weeks ago of Marcus Trent and my father.
I stared at it longer than I meant to. Then, without allowing myself another breath, I shoved it back into the drawer.. deeper this time.
I didn’t need ghosts, I needed focus.
I shut the drawer with finality.
Back to work—
The Portugal itinerary was nearly complete but it was insane how quickly a business trip had become something else entirely.
There were too many reports that didn't match the outputs like someone was deliberately bleeding the subsidiary dry.
So I highlighted suspicious entries in red and made notes in the margins because proof was the only language men like Damien and my father respected.
My phone buzzed, it was a text message Jack:
"Resting. Sort of. The house is too quiet without you."
A small smile tugged at my lips before I set the phone face-down. There was still too much to do.
By evening, my desk was littered with neatly stacked folders. My laptop blinked with finalized documents uploaded to secure servers and the cup of tea that sat in front of me had gone cold.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a moment and I felt exhaustion gather behind my temples like fog.
But I'd resolved that Portugal would not be a retreat but a reckoning.
And I was determined to show Damien that I was no longer the sweet little wife he'd married, the woman who did nothing but love and sacrifice for her husband.
I wasn’t going to recoil in surrender to his games or tactics.
Then I reached for the first binder I would hand Jack tonight.
"Portugal..." I breathed out.