It actually took faster than I thought it would.
The investigation, I an.
I'd expected weeks—months even—of dead ends, deflections, and carefully worded denials. That was how people like Engr. Julio Santos survived for so long. They hid behind paperwork and ti, betting on everyone else getting tired before the truth ever surfaced.
But sohow… the wall cracked.
I didn't know that yet, of course. Not when that Saturday morning arrived quietly, unannounced, wrapped in the kind of calm that felt almost suspicious.
---
I woke up to fingers brushing my cheek.
Not shaking . Not poking. Just… tracing. Slow, deliberate, familiar. Like she was mapping my face from mory.
I groaned, turning my head slightly to escape.
The fingers followed.
I sighed. "You know this won't make wake up faster."
"That's where you're wrong," Val said softly, amusent threading her voice. "You're already awake."
I cracked one eye open.
She was propped on her elbow beside , hair loose and slightly wild, eyes bright in that way that told she'd been awake for a while. The digital clock on my nightstand glowed faintly.
9:01 a.m.
I blinked once. Then again. "Why does it feel like I just slept for ten minutes?"
She smiled. "Because you stayed up late."
"You stayed up with ."
"Details," she said lightly.
I rolled onto my back and exhaled. "Morning."
> "Morning, husband."
There it was again—that word she still used like it was brand new, like she was testing how it sounded every single ti.
I turned my head to look at her properly. "You're unusually cheerful."
She shrugged. "It's Saturday."
"And?"
> "And we don't have to go anywhere."
That was when her phone rang.
The sound cut through the quiet like a dropped glass.
Val frowned, reaching over to grab it from the nightstand. One glance at the screen and her expression shifted—not alard, not tense, just… alert.
"Morning, Dad," she said, answering.
I watched her face instead of the ceiling.
She listened quietly at first, nodding even though he couldn't see her. Then her brows drew together slightly.
"Yes," she said. "Uh-huh."
She glanced at .
My mouth shaped a silent What?
Her eyes widened.
Just a little.
"Yes, we will," she said quickly. "Okay. Yes, sir. We'll be there."
She ended the call and sat there for a second longer than necessary, phone still in her hand.
I pushed myself up on one elbow. "You're doing that thing."
> "What thing?"
"The staring-at-nothing-right-after-a-call thing."
She finally looked at . And she was smiling. Not the teasing smile. Not the soft one.
The surprised one.
"What did he say?" I asked.
"He wants us to co see him today," she said. "At the family house."
The words settled slowly. Too slowly.
"Us," I repeated.
She nodded. "Today."
I didn't say anything right away.
The Moreau family house wasn't just a place. It was a mory. A collection of them, really—and none I was particularly eager to revisit.
I'd been there fewer than five tis since I t Val.
Every visit felt like walking into a room where the temperature dropped the mont I crossed the threshold. Polite words. Controlled expressions. A very clear, very deliberate distance.
And now—an invitation. From Charlie George Moreau himself.
Val misread my silence, because of course she did.
Her smile softened as she leaned closer. "He sounded… different, Kai."
Different.
I huffed quietly. "That's not exactly comforting."
She laughed under her breath, then reached for my hand and tugged. Hard. "Co on. Let's go bathe."
"Right now?"
> "Yes, right now."
"You didn't even give ti to ntally prepare."
"You'll overthink it if I do," she said, already halfway off the bed. "Move."
I let her pull up, mostly because resisting her in monts like this was pointless.
As she dragged toward the bathroom, my mind lagged behind my body.
Don't get wrong—I'd always wanted this.
Acceptance. Or at least… acknowledgnt.
I knew my relationship with Charlie had changed. It had to, after everything. Working together, trusting each other with pieces of a problem that could tear his company apart—it forced a certain level of respect.
Still… this felt fast.
Too fast.
We still went through our usual routine.
Shower. Clothes. Breakfast.
But sothing about it was… off.
Val talked. All through it.
She talked while brushing her hair, pacing the room barefoot as if standing still would make her thoughts louder. She talked while pulling on a blouse, while buttering toast, while sitting across from at the table without taking a single bite.
"Why do you think he wants to see us?" she asked, for maybe the third ti. "Do you think he found sothing already? Or—no, wait—what if it's about Otavio again? Or Julio Santos? Or—"
She stopped, exhaled sharply, then continued anyway.
> "What if he wants to talk about the board? Or the investigation? Or—Kai, what if he's upset about sothing and doesn't know how to say it?"
I took a slow sip of coffee, watching her spiral in real ti.
"Now who's overthinking?" I said lightly.
She paused, sighed, and finally sat down properly across from .
"I just…" Her voice softened. "I don't want him to say sothing that'll hurt you. Or make you feel unwelco. Not after everything."
I reached across the table, covering her hand with mine.
"Val," I said quietly. "If he called us over, it's probably about Vanguard Ark. Or the investigation. Not… that."
She searched my face for a mont, then nodded—slowly, reluctantly.
"Okay," she murmured. "Okay."
I nodded, steady on the outside—while my thoughts ran several steps ahead of , replaying every past visit, every sharp word, every silence that had ever co from that house.
By the ti I realized we were in the car, seatbelt fastened, engine humming, the house was already disappearing behind us.
Neither of us said much on the drive.
And then—
The gates.
Tall. Imposing. Familiar.
The Moreau family mansion stood exactly as I rembered it—grand, distant, untouchable. A place I'd never quite felt welco in, no matter how many tis I told myself I should.
Val reached over and squeezed my hand.
I swallowed.
Whatever waited beyond those doors… I had no idea what it would be.
And that uncertainty settled heavy in my chest as we pulled to a stop outside the estate.
---
To be continued...
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