Semua Bab My Ex-wife is a Hidden Heiress!: Bab 51 - Bab 60

Severed TiesDimitri's POV~The air in Vakette’s boardroom was putrid and decay-heavy, the glossy mahogany table now scored and covered with report drafts that charted its corporate death. Fear seems to read my expression because it takes my arm and steers us over to a window with a commanding view of the Medicopathic offices in ruin. I stood at the window, my collar crumpled in on itself and my suit jackets additive to a position I had barely clung to calling myself something as absurd as a co-CEO, and I looked out over the skyline of Seryne like I could stare the ruin away. Waylen Anderson, Natasha’s father, hovered behind me, his tailored coat a contrast to the room’s decay, his voice a whip cracking the silence. “You bled my company, Galden!” he bellowed, pounding the table with his fist, and the pages scattered. “Bankruptcy knocking and you standing there like a fool! Vakette is on you—you’d better have one hell of a reason why I shouldn’t fire you right now!”I felt tightness b

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. “Grego

Shadows in the Dust Valenticia's POV~ The beam from my flashlight quavered, slicing through the damp shadows of the Clawford estate, with fear sharp each time it flickered that it might conceal Gregor’s spies. The air was dense, tasted of wet earth and old oak and my breaths came shallow and ragged, each one an effort to fight the dread constricting my chest. Who’s here? I said to myself, the words swallowed by darkness. I felt cobwebs slap my sweater again, snaring the sleeves, and my heart rate increased, antidote vial and my mother’s note—find Marrow—spiking heat into my skin, a promise I couldn’t unmake. There was a scuttle and I stopped, the light catching at a rat, its beady eyes shining like two stars as it shot from behind one of the wine racks. I felt relief, unsettled, trembling hands as I exhaled, the vial’s weight giving me back my bearings. She smelled perfume, a woman’s perfume, and the dull, metallic tang of leathery blood and she shivered, fear coiling in her gut, a c

Coastal EchoesValentici's POV~My knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, turning white, my car twisting down the lane toward the rusted bunker—Rosanna’s antidote lab lead—and I followed it like a homing beam. The wind roared, salt biting into my face through the open window, and I panted shallowly, the memory of the safehouse whisper—Valenticia—still on my mind. The antidote vial pressed up against my ribs was a delicate promise, my mother’s note—find Marrow—a pledge scorching in my chest. Fear coiled, a cold snake whispering: What if this lab is nothing but lies? My sweater stuck to my damp skin, damp with the mist, and I parked by the cliffs, the bunker’s shape squat and gloomy, the iron door pocked with rust. I got out, making my boots crunch on the gravel of the drive, heart pounding—is Marrow here, or Gregor’s spy? — the roar of the sea overwhelming all my thoughts as I drew near, fear of a companion refusing to leave me.The door to the bunker creaked open under my push, hi

A Night of Firevalenticia's POV~I stood near the stone fountain, some gurgle from its depths washed against the fear that had chased me ever since Seryne’s seaside lab, leaving the antidote’s warning—unstable, neural overload—and Natasha’s card behind like specters. My silk blouse stuck to my skin, the evening’s chill raising goose bumps, but my heart raced not with dread, but with anticipation. I had texted Stefan: Garden, tonight. The vial of antidote, secure in my room’s safe, was a burden I needed to put away from me, and since he was there, warm, unshakeable, to match his presence with his arm about my waist, was all I should require for comfort. Much too faint, the pulse of fear—is Galden watching? —and then Stefan emerged, and for some reason, I felt my fear relax as his long body formed a pattern against the evening light and the cold pressing into the ground; his eyes snapped to my eyes, and I felt another, deeper fire warm me within.He came toward me, the gravel under hi