Chapter 2: Lucian Vale

Vivienne

Damien waited until everyone else had left the sitting room before he stopped pretending to be patient.

My father did not go willingly.

“Vivienne, we need to talk.”

“We will.”

“Now.”

“Give me ten minutes.”

He glanced toward Damien, who offered him the same reasonable smile he had used through years of lies.

“Richard, I am not going to hurt her.”

My father looked at me once more. “The door stays open.”

“Fine.”

He went toward his study but left the sitting-room door wide enough to make his point.

Damien waited until his footsteps were gone.

“What the hell was that?”

“The wedding is canceled.”

“I heard you.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Did your father put you up to this?”

“No.”

“My mother?”

“No.”

His eyes searched my face. “Is there another man?”

A laugh escaped me, sharp with disbelief. “Of course that is where your mind goes.”

“Then explain it.”

“I changed my mind.”

“You do not cancel a wedding like ours because you changed your mind. The cathedral is booked, guests have flown in from three countries, the press has been covering this for weeks, and the merger is tied to tomorrow’s announcement.”

He had listed everything except me.

“I know exactly what I have done.”

“Yesterday, you were discussing flowers with my mother.”

“Yesterday was a very long time ago.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means there will be no wedding.”

He reached for my arm.

I recoiled so quickly that the back of my thigh struck a chair. For an instant, the smell of gasoline was stronger than the perfume in the sitting room, and heat seemed to crawl over skin that was perfectly unburned.

Damien noticed the reaction and his anger became more controlled.

“What happened to you?”

You did.

The answer came close enough to speech that I pressed my tongue against the back of my teeth.

“We are finished.”

“No.”

I stared at him. “Did you just tell me no?”

“You heard me.”

“This is not a negotiation.”

“It becomes one when you make a decision that damages both families and puts billions at risk.”

Five years ago, I had mistaken that certainty for strength. Damien always seemed to know what should happen next, and I had found comfort in letting him decide.

Now I understood the bargain I had made without knowing it. My obedience had been acceptable to him because he had mistaken it for ownership.

“Leave.”

“You are emotional. I will give you tonight, and tomorrow morning we will talk again.”

“There will still be no wedding.”

His voice lowered. “You love me.”

Once, I had loved him enough to forgive things that should have sent me running long before the cliff.

“Not anymore.”

“Who has been talking to you?”

“No one.”

“Celeste?”

My fingers tightened against my palm.

Damien saw it.

“Why would Celeste be talking to me?” I asked.

He took a moment before answering, which told me more than any denial could have.

“Goodbye, Damien.”

I started toward the hallway.

“Vivienne.”

I turned.

“You will regret humiliating me.”

He said it quietly enough that anyone passing the open door might have mistaken it for concern.

“So will you.”

My father was waiting in his study. The documents I had sent him were open across two monitors, and his reading glasses sat low on his nose.

“What is Horizon Advisory?”

“You checked?”

“I asked you a question.”

“It is a shell company.”

“Whose?”

“Damien’s.”

“The registration documents say otherwise.”

“They are supposed to.”

He leaned back in his chair. “How do you know where it leads?”

Because I had watched him discover it too late.

“I know where to look.”

“Vivienne.”

There was no version of the truth that sounded reasonable, so I closed the study door and told him the part that mattered first.

“In five years, Sterling Holdings will barely exist.”

He did not interrupt.

“Damien will use the merger to gain access to our contracts and internal financing. He will move clients through companies connected to him, manipulate the board against you, force you out, crash the stock, and buy Sterling assets through proxies.”

My father stared at me for several seconds.

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

“Then explain why you sound as though you have spent five years investigating a future that has not happened.”

“Because I have.”

I told him about the marriage, the collapse of Sterling Holdings, and the anniversary on which I died. I left out the details of the fire because saying them aloud would not make him believe me more.

When I finished, he pushed his chair away from the desk.

“We are going to a hospital.”

“I am not sick.”

“You canceled your wedding the day before the ceremony and now you are telling me you came back from the dead.”

“I know how it sounds.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, which is why I am not asking you to believe the impossible. I am asking you to check something.”

He frowned.

“Account ending 6149.”

His attention sharpened. “Where did you get that number?”

“You found it in my first life.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Check the account.”

He stared at me, then picked up his phone.

The call lasted less than ten minutes. I watched the certainty in his face disappear as whoever was speaking confirmed details I should not have known.

When he hung up, I asked, “How much?”

“Two point eight million.”

“And where did it go?”

His gaze remained on me. “Horizon Advisory.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“I told you.”

“I do not believe people return from the dead.”

“Neither did I.”

“This could have another explanation.”

“It could. We do not need to settle that today.”

I needed him to believe Damien was dangerous, not that the universe had broken its own rules for me.

“Cancel every negotiation connected to Ashford Group. Freeze any account their people can access and audit the merger team.”

He turned back to the monitors. “Do you have more?”

“A lot more.”

“Bring me everything.”

“I will.”

He removed his glasses. “You are not leaving this house alone.”

“I have to.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I need someone Damien cannot intimidate.”

“Who?”

I hesitated before answering. “Lucian Vale.”

My father stood so quickly that his chair rolled backward.

“No.”

The speed of his answer caught me off guard. “Why?”

“Because Lucian Vale is not someone you approach unless you understand exactly what you are offering him.”

“I do.”

“No, Vivienne, you do not.”

His objection carried more than ordinary caution. “Do you know him?”

“I know enough.”

In my first life, Lucian Vale had been the one businessman Damien never completely controlled. Vale Capital survived attack after attack before it began collapsing during the fourth year of my marriage, and Damien had celebrated every loss with a satisfaction that had seemed excessive at the time.

Lucian had frightened him and that made him useful to me.

“I will be careful.”

My father started to answer, but I reached for the door.

“I already died once after spending years being careful with Damien. I cannot protect us by waiting for him to move first.”

*******

Vale Tower rose over the financial district in black glass and steel. By the time I reached the lobby, news of my canceled wedding had spread far enough that the receptionist recognized me before I introduced myself.

“Miss Sterling.”

“I need to see Mr. Vale.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I do not.”

“I am afraid Mr. Vale does not take unscheduled meetings.”

“Tell him Damien Ashford is going to sabotage the Al-Masri acquisition tomorrow at 2:40 p.m.”

Her professional composure slipped.

“Write that down,” I said. “Damien is using Grant Mercer as the intermediary. The money moves through a Cyprus account tonight. If Mr. Vale waits until tomorrow afternoon to check, he will be too late.”

Security had begun watching me, but twenty-two minutes later I was escorted to the top floor.

Lucian Vale stood behind an enormous desk. I had seen him twice in my first life, always from a distance. Up close, he was taller than I remembered, with a faint scar crossing one eyebrow and charcoal-gray eyes that did not offer the courtesy of pretending to welcome me.

“So,” he said, “you are the woman who canceled a billion-dollar wedding this morning.”

“And you are the man who is going to lose a billion-dollar deal tomorrow unless you listen to me.”

His attention settled more firmly on me. “Five minutes.”

“That will be enough.”

“For what?”

“To prove Damien Ashford is already inside your company.”