If there was one thing life loved doing, it was refusing to pause just because everything was falling apart in the background.
Lucien’s ss with Vanguard Ark Investnts, Benjamin Otavio, and the Protheus Acquisition Index was still very much alive—quiet, poisonous, and too big to ignore. But despite that storm gathering at Moreau Dynamics, the calendar didn’t care. Deadlines didn’t care. Corporate schedules definitely didn’t care.
And the Final Presentation for the ridian Developnt Initiative?
That was tomorrow.
As in—less than twenty-four hours away.
Under normal circumstances, I’d be buzzing. This presentation was everything Gray & Milton had been building toward for months. Winning ant recognition. Winning ant influence. Winning ant a promotion with my na practically engraved on it. And sure—winning ant being the Lead Financial Analyst on the most successful developntal initiative of the entire fiscal year.
Maybe even the decade.
That kind of thing should have sent a thrill through . Should have made my chest feel full and electric. Should have had ntally rehearsing victory speeches or imagining Hale shaking my hand with that rare expression of impressed approval.
But none of that mattered.
Because Val wasn’t happy.
And if she wasn’t, then none of this felt like a win.
Ever since Trent broke down what that Protheus Acquisition Index might actually an—and how it could transfer ownership of Lucien’s shares to soone like Benjamin Otavio—Val had shifted into a gear even I didn’t know she had. She’d been working herself harder than ever. Investigating. Digging. Cross-referencing. Pressing Lucien for answers he refused to give. Trying to stay level-headed even though the ground under her family’s company was potentially cracking apart.
And the worst part?
I couldn’t help her.
Not directly. Not the way I wanted to.
We’d talked about it already— showing up at Moreau Dynamics, rummaging through files, looking for loopholes or proof. But that wasn’t an option. Charlie would notice. And considering he still hadn’t officially approved as his daughter’s husband, the last thing he needed was a reason to accuse of "interference" or "ddling" or anything worse.
Especially since he still had no idea what exactly was going on.
And Val—being Val—didn’t want Marina involved either. I already told Trent not to say a word, because Marina would panic. She’d go DEFCON 1 before Val even finished explaining half a sentence.
So for the last five... maybe six days, all I could do was watch her.
Watch her leave early. Watch her co ho late. Watch her bury herself in docunts. Watch her hold her breath every ti her phone buzzed.
Watch her walk through this alone.
And I hated it.
---
Thursday Evening.
The last day before the Final Presentation.
I pulled into the driveway feeling like soone had wrung my spine out, squeezed whatever energy I had left, and tossed it into traffic. Gray & Milton had been smooth—almost annoyingly smooth. Everyone was in high spirits. The team was sharp. Projections were flawless. Numbers aligned. Everything was clean, tight, ready.
We were prepared.
We might actually win.
And I couldn’t bring myself to celebrate it.
I stepped inside, loosening my tie, the faint sll of dinner drifting through the air.
Aline’s voice floated from the kitchen. "Welco ho, sir!"
Before I could respond, a soft ow brushed against my ankle. Duchess trotted out, tail high, demanding attention like she paid rent.
I crouched and rubbed her head. "Hey, royalty."
She purred like she’d been waiting all day just to gloat about her importance.
Aline poked her head around the corner, smiling. "Rough day?"
I exhaled. "Long day."
She nodded knowingly. "Dinner’s ready. I made Roast Chicken with Mashed Potatoes & Gravy. Simple but good." She gave a small, proud shrug.
It slled incredible. My stomach growled, completely betraying my attempt at emotional composure.
"Looks amazing," I said. "But I’ll—uh—wait for Val."
Aline blinked. "Oh right, she’s not ho yet."
I shook my head. "Yeah, she’s still at the office."
Her expression softened. "This is the fifth day, isn’t it?"
"Yeah," I admitted. "Fifth."
She looked like she wanted to say sothing—comforting, motherly, maybe even a little scolding—but she kept it gentle.
"She works hard because she cares," Aline said softly. "But you care too. So don’t forget to take care of yourself, sir."
I smiled faintly. "I’ll try."
"If you change your mind, food’s warm." She pointed a finger at Duchess. "And you, don’t touch the chicken."
Duchess flicked her tail with pure insult.
Aline laughed and disappeared back into the kitchen.
I straightened, glancing toward the front door even though I knew Val wasn’t walking through it anyti soon.
My chest tightened—not with panic, but with sothing quieter. Heavy. Quiet.
Loneliness wasn’t the right word.
Helplessness was closer.
I headed upstairs, Duchess trailing behind like a furry shadow. The house felt too quiet without Val’s voice bouncing around, without her footsteps, without her sighs or muttering or tired sarcasm.
In our room, I loosened my tie completely and sat on the edge of the bed.
Tomorrow was supposed to be monuntal.
A turning point for Gray & Milton. A career-defining mont. A chance to win.
And I felt... nothing.
Because Val felt everything.
And she felt it alone.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, the silence heavier than any boardroom tension I’d ever experienced.
The ridian Developnt Initiative was racing forward.
But Lucien’s mistake... Benjamin Otavio... Vanguard Ark Investnts... The Protheus Acquisition Index...
That was a fuse burning sowhere else entirely.
And eventually?
Both of those paths were going to collide.
Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Maybe in a way none of us were ready for.
I closed my eyes.
Waiting for Val. Waiting for answers. Waiting for whatever tomorrow brought.
---
By the ti the clock on my laptop hit 9:41 PM, I was still sitting on the bed, half-slouched against the headboard, replaying the recap of our ridian presentation. Earbuds in. Eyes burning. Brain running on fus.
Honestly, I wasn’t even watching it anymore. I just needed sothing to fill the silence.
Because five days of silence was loud. Five consecutive nights of telling Aline, "No, I’ll wait for her."
I didn’t even hear the front door. Didn’t hear the car. Didn’t hear her shoes on the stairs. The only reason I knew she was ho was because suddenly—there she was—in the doorway.
I pulled a single earbud out and blinked.
She looked... drained. Not "tired after a long day" drained—more like every ounce of energy she had had been wrung out and tossed aside. Her eyes were dull, her shoulders slumped, her hair slightly damp from sweat or rain—I couldn’t tell.
She still tried to smile.
> "Hey, husband."
My heart twisted. That smile used to light up rooms. Tonight it flickered.
I closed my laptop imdiately. "Hey."
Her bag slid off her shoulder like it weighed ten tons.
"Go take a shower," I said quietly. "I’ll wait."
She didn’t argue. Didn’t joke. Didn’t even sigh. She just nodded and disappeared into the bathroom.
The shower went on. And on. And on. I didn’t mind. If anyone deserved a long shower, it was her. Maybe water could wash off even a fraction of whatever was crushing her.
When the bathroom door finally opened again, I checked the ti.
10:15 PM.
She stepped out in fresh clothes, hair damp, skin pink from the heat. She looked a little better—but only a little.
"I’ll go grab dinner," she said, already turning for the door.
I shifted, pushing myself up. "I’ll co down with you—"
She stopped mid-step, narrowed her eyes at , and pointed.
> "Don’t tell you haven’t had dinner yet."
I raised my hands. "Okay. I won’t tell you I haven’t had dinner yet."
> "Kai."
"What?" I shrugged. "I wasn’t hungry."
She stared for half a second, then her lips twitched—and a real smile, a small one, but real—broke through.
And just like that, sothing in my chest unclenched.
"There it is," I said softly. "That looks more like Val’s smile."
She tilted her chin up. "Please. My smiles are always iconic."
There she was. My wife.
We headed downstairs together. The house was quiet—Aline had probably turned in, and Duchess was curled up sowhere plotting world domination. We reached the kitchen, and Val instinctively moved toward the plates.
> "I’ll serve—"
"Nope." I stepped in front of her gently. "I’m in the mood today."
She blinked. "In the mood?"
"In the ’taking care of you’ mood."
Her eyes softened, just barely. "You don’t have to."
"I know," I said. "Which is why I want to."
She exhaled, a tired little laugh. "If you insist."
Dinner was simple, but it felt... grounding. Just the clink of cutlery, the hum of the fridge, and her breathing across from . We didn’t talk much, but we didn’t need to. Sotis silence with Val wasn’t empty—it was safe.
After we finished, I cleared the plates before she could even pretend to argue, and we headed back upstairs.
She sat on the bed, legs stretched out, staring up at the ceiling. Not blinking much. Not moving. Like she was doing calculus in her head—and losing.
I slid closer. "So... any progress yet?"
She looked at for a second then shook her head once.
I rubbed my palm over my face. "Right."
A beat passed.
Then she said, "I hope you’re prepared for tomorrow’s presentation."
I froze.
She didn’t look away. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even sound sad or guilty or stressed. She actually smiled.
"Lucien’s probably ruined Moreau Dynamics’ chances of winning it," she added lightly. "So make sure you don’t let anyone else have it."
My eyebrows shot up. "You’re really not bothered by that?"
She shook her head imdiately. "Why would I be? Your win is my win. Besides..." She lifted her chin with that classic Val confidence. "I get to brag to my dad that my husband’s super intelligent."
I snorted. "Your dad will probably lose his mind if you say that."
"Oh, he’ll be fuming." She nodded like she was genuinely looking forward to it.
We both laughed. The kind of laugh that loosened sothing tight inside .
Then she shifted closer, curled against my chest, and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. Barely there. But enough.
"I’m fine, Kai," she whispered. "You being here is all the strength I need. So quit worrying, okay?"
Of course she knew. Nothing gets past her. I could’ve built an iron wall around my thoughts and she’d still find the door.
I felt lighter. Stupidly lighter. She was comforting —again—when I was supposed to be the one holding her up.
She looked up, kissed once more, and murmured, "Good night, husband."
I kissed her forehead. "Night night, love."
She settled into my arms, breathing evening out almost instantly, her hand loosely curled against my shirt like she needed the contact to stay tethered.
And as she fell asleep, I stared at the ceiling and made a quiet promise—to myself more than anyone.
No matter how tomorrow goes. No matter what trouble Moreau Dynamics ends up in. No matter how deep Lucien’s ss actually is.
If it’s her family, I’m stepping in. Whether Charlie wants my help or not. Not for him. Not for Lucien.
For her.
Celestia Valentina Tanaka.
My wife.
My... everything.
---
To be continued...
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