Chapter 44 Chapter 44

Chapter 44 Chapter 44
Valentina

"Leah, please forward this to the financial department. Mark it urgent." I slid the signed document across my desk. 

"Yes, ma'am," Leah replied promptly, gathering the file.

I capped my pen and glanced at her. "What do I have next?"

She checked her tablet. "You have a meeting at eleven with Mr. Adrian Keller. He's the new client from the investment group. It's the preliminary strategy session."

I nodded. 

"But before that, you have a brief with Mr. Ambrose at ten-thirty."

There it was.

"Alright," I said calmly. "You can go, Leah."

"Yes, ma'am."

She packed up, bow down and left, the door clicking shut behind her. I leaned back in my chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling. To last night.

Lucien's kitchen. The way his voice had lowered when he promised to protect me. The way his forehead rested against mine. 

I wished for the moment to stretch longer but I had to leave early because Lucien said Ambrose was preparing to leave his office. And didn't want me to be home after him. 

I had showered immediately. Let the hot water sober me up, wash off the scent of wine, of pasta sauce, of Lucien. 

I reached for my phone on the desk. The screen lit up.

A message from Lucien.

"Are you free after work?"

I texted a reply informing him I will be having a meeting with his father before I took off. 

When I got to Ambrose office, he was behind his desk, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his watch. Papers were arranged in neat stacks. Nothing ever out of place.

I took my seat while I waited for him to finish signing something before finally lifting his gaze to me.

"Give me a summary of the acquisitions you handled this quarter."

Okay straight to the point I guess. I straightened. At least I'm not dumb. I know all the things I worked on. "The Westbridge expansion is complete. Contracts were finalized last week. The logistics partnership in Milan is pending approval from legal, but projections are stable. The Keller portfolio has potential, though it requires aggressive restructuring."

His eyes didn't leave mine as I spoke. He wasn't listening for information. He was measuring.

"You've improved," he said flatly.

"I've been doing this for months," I replied calmly. "I would hope so."

He opened a file and slid it across the desk toward me.

"I want you to handle this next."

I picked it up and skimmed through the pages. The more I read, the less it made sense.

"This isn't aligned with our usual strategy," I said carefully. "What exactly are we trying to secure here?"

Ambrose leaned back in his chair.

"That," he said smoothly, "Is for you to figure out."

I looked up at him. "I'll need more background. The risk exposure alone—"

"Do your job, Valentina."

The words weren't loud. But they landed like a slap.

"That is why you're here."

There it was. I felt the heat rise in my chest, but I pressed it down. I've learned how. I placed the file gently on the desk.

"And was that why you married me? To get the jobs done for you?"

"You're my wife. You carry my name. You represent my interests. That includes business."

His fingers lightly played with his pen. Possessive. Controlled.

"And let's not pretend," he continued,"that you would have this position without me."

I held his gaze.

"I would have something," I said evenly. I would probably be still working at my father's company. If he hadn't decided to sell me to Ambrose. 

"You enjoy pushing boundaries lately," he observed.

"I enjoy clarity."

"Clarity?" he repeated with a light smile. "Here's clarity. Everything you have is because I allow it."

I swallowed down the anger bubbling inside of me. "Then allow me to understand the project properly," I said. "Or would you prefer it fail?"

For a second, I thought he might snap. But he didn't instead he said, "You'll receive additional documentation this afternoon," he said coolly. "I expect results."

"You can go," He dismissed. 

I stood, gathering the file. As I reached the door, his voice stopped me.

"Valentina."

I turned. "Be careful what distractions will cost you."

There it was again. A warning disguised as observation. I didn't respond. I simply walked out.



"The location has potential," Mr. Keller, said tapping the printed layout of the proposed mall. "But the surrounding infrastructure needs expansion."

We were at a nearby Café reviewing the development process. "It will be expanded," I replied evenly. "We're already in talks with the municipality regarding road access and parking permits. The auction phase is only the beginning."

He nodded slowly. "What about the retail mix?"

"We're targeting high-end and mid-range brands. Anchor stores secured before construction begins. It minimizes vacancy risk."

He leaned back, studying me. "You're confident."

"I don't present projects I'm unsure about."

A beat of silence. Then he closed the folder.

"Very well. I'll have my secretary send the revised financial breakdown by tomorrow."

"I'll do the same on my end," I said. "We'll align the projections before proceeding."

He stood. I followed. We shook hands.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Ambrose."

The name still felt like a suit that didn't belong to me.

"The pleasure is mine. And I'll settle the bill," I gestured to the almost empty cups of coffee we had. 

"Thank you for that,"

After he left, I made my way to the counter. "I'll settle the bill," I told the barista fishing out my card and reaching it over the counter. 

Another hand stretched over mine.

"I'll pay."

A familiar voice. Lucien.

He looked infuriatingly calm. Dark shirt. Sleeves rolled slightly. That composed expression like he hadn't been in my thoughts since dawn.

"Oh," I said, arching a brow. "What a coincidence."

He smiled. "I guess it is," he replied. "Although I did see a certain someone walk in earlier. I didn't want to intrude on your meeting."

"You were watching me?"

"Observing," he corrected smoothly. "There's a difference."

The barista cleared her throat politely as Lucien handed over his card.

I folded my arms.

"You could have said hello."

"And risk distracting you from sealing another empire?" he asked lightly. "I'll pass."

I tried not to smile. He paid and we stepped outside together.

"So," I said, turning to him, "don't you have tasks to handle? You usually pretend to be very busy."

"I am busy."

"Then why are you here?"

He studied me for a second. "Because I want to take you somewhere."

"Somewhere?" I repeated lifting a brow.

"Yes. You look like you need to breathe. And coffee shops full of business talk aren't exactly therapy."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

That simple. That certain. I crossed my arms defensively. "You don't even know how my meeting went."

"I know your shoulders tense when you're holding yourself together," he said quietly.

Damn him. I looked away for a second.

"You're very observant lately."

"I've always been."

"But if anyone sees us—" I began.

"They'll see two people walking," he cut in. "Nothing illegal about that."

Illegal. No. Dangerous? Very.

"And if Ambrose hears about it?" I pressed.

Lucien's expression didn't flicker. "He won't."

The certainty in his voice did something to me. "Where are we going?" I asked again.

He held my gaze. "Trust me." That was the problem. I already did.



"Are you kidnapping me?" I asked Lucien turning to look at him. We bad been driving for over ten minutes. Ten minutes of him focused on the road like he wasn't deliberately keeping information from me. 

One corner of his mouth lifted. "If I were kidnapping you, Valentina, you wouldn't be sitting that calmly."

"Oh?" I crossed my arms. "So this is not suspicious at all? You refusing to answer where we're going?"

"I didn't refuse."

"You avoided."

He glanced at me with dark eyes. "There's a difference."

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in the seat. "You've been driving for ten minutes."

"Thirteen," he corrected.

"That's worse."

He chuckled softly . "You're safe."

Well that one I'm sure of it. I looked out the window. The tall buildings were thinning. The traffic noise faded into something quieter. More trees. Fewer people.

"This isn't work, is it?" I asked.

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"A break."

"I don't recall scheduling one."

"You don't schedule breathing either," he replied.

I turned back to him. "You're being cryptic on purpose."

"Yes."

"At least you're honest."

He shifted lanes smoothly. His hands were steady on the wheel. Composed. Like he wasn't taking a married woman somewhere unknown in broad daylight.

"Lucien," I said more seriously, "if this is reckless—"

"It's not."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

The certainty in his voice made my stomach tighten. "Where are we going?" I pressed again.

He exhaled lightly, as if debating whether to tell me.

"My place."

"Your private apartment?"

"No."

"You have another place?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Years."

"And you just... never mentioned it?"

"You never asked."

I stared at him. "That's because I didn't know it existed."

He smiled but didn't respond.

The road narrowed into a quieter stretch lined with tall trees. Sunlight filtered through the branches, flashing across the windshield in soft intervals.

He turned into a private driveway and parked. "So," I said slowly, "this is the part where you reveal the master plan?"

He turned off the engine. "There is no master plan," he said.

"That's hard to believe."

He unbuckled his seatbelt and finally looked at me fully.

"I brought you somewhere that isn't business. Isn't politics. Isn't your husband."

The way he said husband flat, detached made something stir in my chest.

"And what is it?" 

"Peace."

He stepped out of the car. I hesitated only a second before following.

A simple countryside house with wooden siding, a small porch, and wide windows that reflected the afternoon light came into view. Trees surrounded it.

I stopped walking for a second.

"Wow."

It wasn't luxurious like his private apartment in the city. It didn't scream money or power or influence. It looked... peaceful. Beautiful in a way that didn't need to prove anything.

I turned slowly, taking it in. "So this is your place?"

"Yes."

"It's not what I expected."

"Well....I expected the reaction."

I stepped closer to the porch, brushing my fingers lightly along the wooden railing. "It's... simple."

A smile touched his lips. "You say that like it's an insult."

"It's not," I corrected. "It just feels like somewhere you come when you don't want to be Lucien Ambrose."

We reached the front door. He pulled out a key and unlocked it.

"Wait until you see the inside," he said with an excited smile. And I was excited too. 

The door opened. The scent hit first — wood, clean air, something faintly nostalgic.

I stepped in. And halted.

The inside was warm. Soft beige walls. Wooden beams across the ceiling. A stone fireplace. Worn but polished floors. A couch that looked lived in, not displayed.

This was a home.

My eyes wandered slow, absorbing everything. A small framed photograph on the side table near the fireplace caught my eyes. 

I walked toward it and picked it up. A younger boy stared back at me.

Dark hair. Serious eyes. Soft.

"This is you?" I asked, turning toward him in surprise. There was no mistaken with the resemblance. 

He leaned against the doorway, watching me.

"Yep."

I looked back at the picture again. He couldn't have been more than eight or nine. There was something vulnerable in that child's face that the man standing before me had buried too well.

The house was spotless. Organized. Preserved.

"Lucien..." I said slowly, still holding the frame. "Whose house is this?"

"My mother's."

"Really?"

He walked further inside. "This was her house. We lived here for a while."

My brows furrowed. "You... lived here?"

"Before we moved back to my father's place."

Back. The word echoed.

Confusion crept in. "Moved back? I don't understand."

He paused near the fireplace, resting his hand lightly on the mantel.

"My parents divorced once," he said evenly. "When I was young."

My mind tried to fit the pieces together. The Lucien I knew. The Ambrose empire. The intimidating, controlling patriarch.

A divorce didn't fit the polished image their family projected.

I looked around again at the modest furniture, the preserved photos, the quiet dignity of the space.

"You never told me," I said softly.

"There are a lot of things I don't tell people."

I placed the photo back carefully.

"So your mother left him," I murmured, piecing it together.

"For a while. And then went back."

His jaw tightened just slightly almost imperceptible.

I didn't know this part of him. I didn't know the boy in that picture. And suddenly I understood why this place existed. This wasn't just an escape from business. It was the last place where he had been a child.

I stepped closer to him slowly. "So this," I said gently, gesturing around us, "is who you were before everything."

His eyes met mine. "This," he corrected quietly, "is who I might have been."

"I don't... I don't think I've ever seen this side of you. The real you. Not the Lucien Ambrose who walks into a room and owns it, not the one everyone fears."

His lips curved, the hint of humor in the corner of his mouth. "Maybe that's because the real me doesn't need to be feared."

I raised an eyebrow. "Then why does he... your father... do everything he does?"

His expression hardened, eyes narrowing, though the warmth of the cabin softened it. "Because he believes control is protection. Because fear is a tool he's mastered."

I glanced around again, at the cozy kitchen table, the small bookshelf with worn spines, the soft curtains by the windows. "And you... you had to grow up in all of that?"

He nodded. "I learned. I watched. I waited."

I felt my chest tighten. Somehow, seeing him here, in this house that belonged to a time before the empire, before his father's shadow had grown so large... it made him human in a way I hadn't allowed myself to see before. Vulnerable. Hurt. A boy who had survived.

I walked toward the couch, sinking into it slowly, my hands resting in my lap. "This is... beautiful, Lucien. I can see why you'd come here to breathe."

"It's a place where mistakes don't haunt you. Where consequences are smaller, softer. Where the world isn't waiting to tear you down."

I nodded, eyes tracing the outline of the fireplace. "I... I can understand that. More than I thought I would."

I looked up at him, a small smile forming. "Thank you for bringing me here."

His smile returned. "I thought you might like it. Thought it might... remind you that the world can exist without all of that." He gestured vaguely toward the city, toward the life we both were forced to navigate.

"And it does. At least, for a moment."

He sat down next to me. "Moments like these are rare. We hold onto them."

I met his gaze, feeling my heart pound in a way that had nothing to do with fear or tension from Ambrose. Just Lucien. Just this rare, quiet corner of life that belonged only to us.