Sera hadn't planned to go looking.
But sometimes the truth slips in ….quiet, uninvited, and impossible to ignore.
It started at the last board meeting. A stray comment. A veiled look between Henry Vale and one of the finance executives. Something small, but Sera had learned long ago to pay attention to the smallest things.
Now, weeks later, she sat in front of two monitors in her apartment, her brows furrowed, files open like a digital battlefield. She dug through old Vale Corp. reports…years of quarterly statements, subsidiary records, and expense logs..
At first, everything looked clean. Polished. Impressive.
But then the inconsistencies began.
Shell companies.
Shadow budgets.
Transactions that vanished.
Funds funneled into subsidiaries that didn't technically exist….at least not on paper.
And at the center of it all?
Henry Vale.
⸻
"You have more than leverage," Sera said quietly. "You have a weapon."
Lianna looked up from her phone, her face still softened by the message she'd just read.
They were sitting in a private room at Mika's Fashion House, high above the city, where the windows stretched from ceiling to floor and even the air smelled expensive. Lianna had just finished her espresso, her voice note to her son Arin still echoing softly in her memory.
"I love you," she had whispered into the mic.
A moment later, he'd sent back a sticker of a lion hugging a heart.
She smiled at it again now, thumb gently brushing over the screen.
Behind her, Mera gave her bob a final smooth pass with the brush.
"Done. You look… powerful."
Lianna turned to the mirror. She did.
Sleek bob. Flawless makeup. A dress that whispered war underneath elegance.
She looked like a woman the world couldn't touch.
But inside, the storm still moved….
Sera handed her the folder across the vanity.
"Henry's cooked books for years. These shell companies are his. He's been bleeding money from Vale Corp into his own offshore accounts."
Lianna flipped through the pages, her eyes narrowing.
"How sure are you?"
"Ninety-nine percent. But I'll be a hundred by next week."
There was silence between them for a moment. Then Sera added…
"If this goes public, he won't just lose his position. He'll face prison."
Lianna closed the folder with quiet finality.
"Good."
⸻
Later, the mood shifted…like it always did when the world outside paused and it was just girls and secrets.
Mila poured champagne, twirling in her heels.
"You didn't answer me," she said, leaning toward Lianna. "Do you like Damian?"
Lianna was quiet. The question hung in the air..
She thought of the way Damian looked at her…like she was something rare, something fargile and powerful at once.
How he listened. How he didn't flinch around her just like fire.
But she didn't say any of that.
"He's… complicated," she replied softly.
Sera raised an eyebrow. "That's not a no."
Mila giggled. "It's not a yes either."
Lianna just smiled….an elegant, unreadable expression.
Then, without warning, Sera asked the real question.
"Are you still in love with Kian Vale?"
The room stilled.
Lianna's smile faltered, her fingers tightening slightly around the champagne glass.
She waved the question off, as if brushing it away.
"I'm over him," she said.
But they both saw the lie in her eyes.
And so did she.
Because deep down, beneath all the armor, she still felt it.
Still burned with it.
Love never really left.
Not when it came from a place that deep.
And not when the man you once loved…
was now becoming your greatest war.
—
The penthouse was too quiet.
Kian sat alone on the edge of his custom Italian couch, the city glittering through the tall glass behind him. In his hand, a glass of aged whiskey….untouched. The ice had nearly melted, thinning the amber into something weaker than it used to be.
On the screen in front of him, Lianna spoke with calm eloquence in a televised interview. She wore white…clean lines, soft silk, minimal makeup. Regal.
"What do I want?" she said, smiling faintly. "I want what I've always deserved."
Kian didn't blink.
Didn't move.
He just stared.
His throat tightened.
Then, slowly….the past began to creep in.
FLASHBACK 1
The dining.
Light pouring through the windows.
Lianna laughing at something…something stupid, maybe a dog video, maybe nothing at all.
Kian had looked up from the stock reports in his hands. Pretended not to watch her.
But he did.
He always did.
Her laughter filled the air like it didn't know it didn't belong in their house.
And somehow, it made the sterile dining feel like home.
FLASHBACK 2
Late nights.
He would come home past midnight, weary from meetings and silence. The bedroom was dark, but she was still awake.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed. Wearing his old shirt.
Arms wrapped around her knees, phone dim in her hand….though he knew she wasn't really looking at it.
She always waited.
She'd lift her gaze when he walked in. Their eyes would meet.
She would glance away quickly, acting like she hadn't been watching the door.
They slept in separate beds by then.
But she never locked her door.
And he never said why he left hers unopened.
FLASHBACK 3
He'd been in one of his moods. Distant. Cold. Work had gone wrong.
She noticed.
She always noticed.
She didn't ask what was wrong.
Didn't push.
Instead, she'd quietly queued up one of his favorite shows. Sat in the living room, volume just loud enough for him to hear from the study.
Then she started telling a story.
Something about her childhood, her old cat, how she once tried to cook and almost set the stove on fire. She told it to the air. To no one. To him.
He never walked in.
But he'd leaned back in his chair and listened.
And smiled.
PRESENT
Back in the penthouse, Kian dragged a hand down his face.
He blinked once….sharp…and felt the sting in his eyes.
He flicked his fingers near his lashes, quickly, as if trying to chase the emotion away .
But it was there.
Unmovable. Undeniable.
He had loved her.
But his love came wrapped in pride, distance, silence.
He never gave her what she needed.
And now… someone else might.
Damian.
The way he looked at her. The way she didn't flinch. The way she smiled.
Kian's chest tightened.
He reached for the glass. But he still didn't drink.
Instead, he whispered to the room…
a confession far too late.
"God…. I should have told you.."
But she wasn't there to hear it.
And maybe that was the cruelest part of all.