Todos los capítulos de Too Late for Regret, Mr. Vale: Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

The chilly Monday morning air tasted of salt and heavy mist as I walked down the metal stairs of the main terminal pier. It was barely six in the morning, and the sun was nothing more than a pale gray streak on the horizon, but the southern docks were already alive with activity. Forklifts hummed in the distance, and the massive cranes swung slowly against the sky, moving containers from the early arrivals.Lucien walked right beside me, his long strides matching mine easily on the damp ground. He wore a simple dark jacket with the collar turned up against the wind, his hands jammed deep into his pockets. We weren't here in our formal evening clothes today; we were back in the dust and noise of the actual business, exactly where I wanted to be."The crews are waiting in the secondary garage," Lucien said, his voice cutting through the steady rumble of a nearby ship engine. "Victor talked to them last night, but they wanted to hear the new terms directly from us before the shift star

The clock on my office wall showed twenty minutes past eleven. Outside the tall windows, the city had settled into a quiet haze, but inside, the room felt uncomfortably tense. The physical ledgers sat open on my desk directly in front of me, bathed in the white light of my desk lamp. On the other side of the long desk, Lucien sat with a laptop open, plugging in one of the recovered plastic cases that Victor’s team had brought back from Pier Four.I couldn't bring myself to look at the laptop screen. My eyes kept tracing the blue handwriting on the yellowed paper, over and over again, reading those six private transfer entries."The encryption on this second drive is a bit older," Lucien said, his deep voice breaking the stillness as he typed a quick command on his keyboard. "It looks like standard financial records from Vanguard's side. If these files match what is in your hands, we will have enough to keep their remaining officers tied up in legal hearings for months."I cleared my

The brass handles of the double doors felt cold under my palms as I pushed my way out of the restaurant into the bright afternoon sun. My lunch meeting with Mr. Henderson had yielded little progress; he was far too nervous about the frozen secondary accounts to commit any extra capital to our harbor project.I took two steps onto the wide stone pavement before a sudden flash of light nearly blinded me."Miss Jehanna! Over here!""Ahtisa! Is it true that Thorne Capital has frozen your family's investment funds?"A thick wall of local reporters and camera crews surged up the steps, blocking the pathway to my parked car. Microphones wrapped in black foam were shoved toward my face as flashbulbs popped in rapid succession. Elara immediately stepped in front of me, throwing her hands up to push the closest cameras back."Please step back!" Elara raised her voice, holding her briefcase against her chest to shield me. "Miss Jehanna has no public statement to make today. Clear the path!"Be

The small cafe sitting on the edge of the old residential district was quiet, filled only with the soft clink of ceramic cups and the dull murmur of rain against the front glass. It was miles away from the busy harbor, miles away from the flashing cameras and the endless legal fights happening at Jehanna headquarters.I sat in a small booth near the back corner, wearing an oversized coat and a simple dark scarf wrapped around my hair. Across from me sat Mr. Gable. He was a small, thin man with white hair and thick glasses who had served as my father’s head accountant for over twenty years before retiring quietly to the suburbs."You look tired, Ahtisa," Mr. Gable said softly, setting his teacup down on the saucer. "I read about the public scene with your husband on the news yesterday. The city is turning into a strange place.""He isn't my husband anymore, Mr. Gable," I said, offering him a small, weary smile. "And I didn't come here to talk about Adrian's public drama."Mr. Gable adj

The large conference room on the tenth floor smelled faintly of fresh coffee and old paper. The long glass table in the center was covered with folders, court notices, and formal affidavits from the probate judge. Outside the high windows, rain streaked down the glass, blurring the distant gray ships moving through the bay.I sat at the head of the table, flanked by Elara and my lead corporate attorney, Mr. Vance. Across from us sat Isabella Thorne's private legal team, two middle-aged men in dark grey suits who looked bored and thoroughly unimpressed.The heavy glass door clicked open, and Adrian walked into the room.He didn't wear the expensive tailor-made suits he used to boast about during our marriage. Today, he wore a simple black sweater, plain dark trousers, and a pale coat that looked slightly worn at the cuffs. His dark hair was combed back neatly, though his face remained thin, pale, and tired. He walked with his head slightly lowered, carrying a plain manila folder under