Fifteen companies.
Twenty minutes each.
One contract that could rewrite the next decade of the city.
The tension inside the ridian Developnt Final Presentation facility hit the second we stepped through the security gates. Holloway Avenue’s industrial steel exterior did nothing to soften what waited inside: glass partitions, officials with tablets, and representatives from every company trying to look more confident than they actually were.
Gray & Milton filed in behind Hale, all dressed, all silent, all pretending this wasn’t the biggest morning of our careers.
Except Ji-ho.
He looked like this was a field trip.
We reached the inner waiting hall just as the first company was called in. The double doors swallowed them, and the digital tir above the wall flicked to 20:00. It began counting down, red numbers glowing like the pressure was physical.
I exhaled slowly.
Three months of prep, projection corrections, late nights, recalculations... and now it was all boiling down to twenty minutes behind closed doors.
Tasha nudged my arm. "You ready?"
"As much as anyone can be before getting interrogated by the Urban Developnt Council."
Her mouth curved. "Good. You look sharp. Val picked your tie again?"
"She threatened to replace if I didn’t wear it."
"I like her," she said.
I almost snorted.
She didn’t. Not really.
Or maybe she was trying to convince herself she did.
We took our seats—core team in one corner, our sub-teams farther back with the rest of the representatives. Everyone murmured about the stakes, the competition, who was most likely to co out on top.
RT Industries.
Gray & Milton.
Dwayne Constructions.
Moreau Dynamics.
The usual favorites.
What none of them knew—what only I knew—was that Moreau Dynamics had already lost their shot thanks to Lucien. Their numbers couldn’t win even if their slides sparkled.
And Val...
Val had been carrying that weight alone for days.
I shifted, jaw tightening at the thought.
The tir hit 14:22 when sothing shifted in the atmosphere—not loudly, not dramatically, but like gravity had changed direction.
It started with Hale glancing toward the entrance. Then Tasha. Then Ji-ho.
So I turned.
And there she was.
Val walked in with the Moreau Dynamics core team—Philip Rodriguez leading, their analysts behind him, their legal reps adjusting files. She was right in the center, crisp dark blazer over her cream blouse, hair pulled back with that sharp efficiency she wore like armor.
And she was scanning the room.
Not for competition.
Not for the board.
For .
Her eyes found mine instantly.
A small smile pushed into one cheek—subtle, controlled, but so warm it felt like the fluorescent lights dimd just to let her take over.
Ji-ho let out a low, impressed whistle.
Gabriel muttered, "Well... I finally understand why the dia loves photographing her."
Tasha folded her arms as if bracing.
Philip paused when he saw Val step out of formation.
"Deputy Director?" he asked, brows pulled tight. "Where are you going?"
"Over there," she said simply.
His jaw clamped. "You can’t just—"
But she was already walking.
And Philip, to his credit, knew better than to chase the Chairman’s daughter when she’d clearly made up her mind.
The entire hall watched her approach—every company, every rep, every intern pretending not to stare. I heard one whisper:
"Are they really doing that husband-vs-wife thing again?"
Val heard it too. Her smile turned sharper, amused.
She reached our small circle, stopping right between Ji-ho and Hale. Her gaze flicked to the n first—professional, polite—but then she turned to and the shift in her expression was imdiate. Soft. Familiar. Mine.
"Morning, team Gray & Milton," she said brightly.
Ji-ho straightened so fast he almost dropped his tablet. "Deputy Director Moreau," he greeted. "Or should I call you—"
"Celestia’s fine," she interrupted, then shot him a knowing look. "But I already know what you’re thinking. Don’t say it."
Ji-ho shut his mouth.
Tasha stepped forward. "Nice to see you again," she said, surprisingly genuine.
Val tilted her head in mock formality. "Ms. Team Leader."
Tasha blinked. "Oh God. You’re still using that?"
"It works," Val replied with a tiny shrug. "I like reminders."
"Of what?" Tasha asked.
> "That I won."
Tasha groaned and covered her face. Ji-ho choked.
Then Hale smoothed his suit and extended his hand. "I finally get to et you properly. Celestia Valentina Moreau."
"Tanaka," she corrected instantly—no hesitation, no room for debate. "Celestia Valentina Tanaka."
The corner of my mouth lifted before I could stop it.
Hale nodded once. "Of course."
Noah, who had been silent this entire ti, squinted like this whole interaction was a puzzle he’d never prepared for. "Uh... doesn’t it feel weird for you to walk over here?" he asked. "Considering, well... competition?"
Val blinked at him. "Why would it?"
"You know... rivalry? Opposing proposals? Your team versus ours?" Gabriel pointed out.
She gave the most unapologetic shrug I’d ever seen. "None of that is more important than my husband."
Ji-ho mouthed: Wow.
Tasha muttered under her breath: "She really doesn’t care about optics."
I tried to ignore how warm my face felt. "Val," I murmured.
She finally turned fully toward .
And the whole room quieted.
Her gaze softened again—the sa look she’d given this morning when she fixed my tie, fussed over my collar, and pushed out of the house with that half-serious line: Go get that contract, husband.
Here, in the middle of fifteen competing companies, she reached up and straightened the sa tie again. Smooth, deliberate, owning the mont completely.
"You look good," she said quietly.
My throat tightened. "So do you."
She stepped closer—not touching beyond her fingertips on the tie, but near enough that the warmth of her whispered words brushed my cheek.
"Make them see what I see," she murmured.
Then she offered a playful glance—one that said she knew exactly what she was doing to , and to everyone watching.
Soone behind whispered, "Are they serious right now?"
Val lifted her chin just slightly, catching the whisper. "Yes," she said aloud, not even pretending not to hear.
Then, because she was Val and had an entire hall watching her, she moved one hand to my jaw—gentle, confident—and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.
Not romantic.
Not unprofessional.
But enough to silence an entire room.
Enough to burn through like gasoline.
Hale coughed an awkward, "Well then."
Ji-ho whispered, "Respectfully, your wife is terrifying."
Noah stared at the floor like it had suddenly beco fascinating.
Tasha muttered, "She does that on purpose."
Val stepped back with the most satisfied smile. "I’ll see you inside, husband."
"You will," I managed.
She turned to leave, but paused halfway. Without looking back, she said lightly—loud enough for the hall to hear:
"Oh, and for anyone planning to run with the husband-versus-wife headline again... don’t. There’s no versus."
She glanced at one last ti.
"Not today."
Then she walked back to the Moreau Dynamics section like she hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of fifteen companies.
Philip didn’t say a word when she rejoined them. He simply sighed, rubbed his forehead, and accepted that Val was going to do whatever Val wanted.
The tir above the doors hit 00:00, and the first company exited looking like they’d been wrung out by a committee.
A guard called, "Next up: Gray & Milton."
Gray & Milton straightened.
Hale looked at . "Well, Kai... it seems your wife has high expectations."
"Always," I said, adjusting my tie again. Her touch still lingered on the fabric. "Good thing I plan on eting them."
We rose together, walking as a unit toward the waiting area outside the presentation room. The double doors glowed under the overhead lights, closed tight—reminding us that once we stepped through, everything changed.
Fifteen companies.
One down, fourteen to go.
One contract.
One shot to make it all count.
And sowhere across the hall, Val watched walk—her expression calm, focused, steady.
I breathed in.
This was it.
Ti to earn it.
---
To be continued...
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