A Shameless Doesn't Feel Ashamed

Valerie’s POV

I woke up with a stiff neck and an aching spine. The living room couch was never designed for a full night of proper sleep, especially not after a night of endless, agonizing crying. Opening my eyes felt like prying apart glued eyelids. My vision blurred, and I could feel that my eyes were heavily swollen, tight and hot with the phantom sting of last night’s tears. My physical body felt drained of every ounce of energy, as if someone had hollowed out my bones. A soft, familiar pillow rested under my head, and a thick, warm blanket was carefully tucked around my shoulders.

Rosa. Our caring nanny must have found me passed out in the early hours and covered me.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my face and pushing the tangled hair out of my eyes. The house was quiet, far too quiet for a busy weekday morning. Footsteps padded into the living room from the kitchen hallway, and Rosa appeared holding a steaming mug.

"I’m glad you are now awake, Valerie," she said quietly, handing me the coffee.

I took it, letting the heat seep into my chilled palms. "Where is everyone?"

"Your husband didn't go to work today," Rosa informed me, keeping her voice low and careful. "He skipped his morning meetings to bring Maisie back to the pediatrician clinic to have her checked again for a follow-up visit. They left a little while ago."

I stared at the dark liquid swirling in my mug. Gideon playing the attentive father? The news surprised me, standing in sharp contrast to his blatant absence yesterday when Maisie actually needed him. But I could not afford to linger on the thought. I could not sit here on the couch and dissect his sudden burst of fatherly involvement, nor could I process my tangled feelings about it. I had a strict duty to fulfill. I temporarily switched shifts with a coworker yesterday to deal with Maisie’s emergency, and I had to fill in and cover my scheduled shift at the hospital today.

"Thank you, Rosa," I murmured, pushing the thick blanket aside and standing up on shaky legs. "I need to take a quick cold shower and head out."

The drive to the hospital was an exhausting blur of gray skies and endless brake lights. I navigated the morning traffic on pure autopilot, the heavy silence in the confined space of my car growing too suffocating. Needing some kind of background noise to drown out the memory of Gideon's dark, terrifying eyes from last night, I reached out and switched on the radio.

The timing was perfect, or perhaps perfectly cursed. The traffic light turned red just as a smooth, soothing voice filled the car. It was a voice I knew better than my own.

My chest tightened. A local business station was broadcasting a recorded magazine interview. A special feature focusing on the city's top CEOs.

‘Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Vance,’ the interviewer said, his tone slick and eager. ‘Since you are one of the most successful businessmen in the country, why don’t we start the interview with your personal inspiration? Who or what motivates you to be one of the best?’

Gideon let out a gentle, genuine chuckle. It was that specific, rich laugh he used to reserve only for me when we were alone. Hearing his handsome voice filling my car viciously twisted the metaphorical knife already lodged deep in my chest. If he was calm, his sweet and gentle voice could comfort anyone who heard it. It was something I used to admire so deeply about him.

‘Well…’ Gideon began, his tone perfectly calibrated to charm every listener.

‘It seems Mr. Vance has a special someone,’ the interviewer teased, followed by soft laughs from the studio.

I swallowed hard as my heart began to race in my chest. A special someone?

‘There was a rumor circulating before that you are actually married,’ the interviewer pressed. ‘Is that true, Mr. Vance, and is your inspiration your family? Can you describe your family to us?’

‘Well… I have a beautiful family…’

I almost slammed my foot on the brake pedal. A beautiful family, huh? He was an excellent businessman, but he could not even make a proper husband to the woman he legally married.

‘Are you really smiling right now, Mr. Vance?’

Gideon’s chuckle was clear and gentle through the speakers. ‘I have a little family. A wife, a child, and we’re happy. Very happy.’

My hands gripped the leather steering wheel. *Liar.*

‘I have a cute and bubbly child,’ Gideon continued, his voice dripping with fabricated warmth. ‘And a wife… a beautiful wife. A caring and loving wife.’

My hands began to shake uncontrollably. My knuckles turned stark white against the dark leather. My breathing hitched. I knew with undeniable certainty that he was describing a family dynamic that did not suit ours in the slightest. We were broken. We were fighting over unsigned divorce papers. The sickening realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. Was he talking about his mistress, Beatrice, and his illegitimate child on national radio? Was he disguising them as his legal family for the public to adore?

I could not bear the suffocating hypocrisy for another second. I slammed my hand against the dashboard, killing the radio and cutting off his lying voice. The sudden silence was deafening. I pulled my car into the hospital parking lot, my tires squealing slightly against the pavement. I wiped away the fresh tears burning my cheeks. I determined right then and there not to let him break me any further.

I parked the car properly and prepared to go inside. But before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt, my cell phone rang.

The caller ID flashed brightly on the screen: *Mrs. Vance.*

My mother-in-law. I could easily ignore this call and turn my phone off, but I was raised to respect people even when they offered me no respect in return. Mrs. Vance historically viewed me with extreme prejudice, framing me as a cunning, manipulative woman aiming only for their vast family wealth. She never liked me as her son’s wife.

I braced myself and answered. "Hello, Mrs. Vance—"

"What happened to my precious granddaughter, Valerie?" she shrieked through the receiver, bypassing any basic greeting. Her vicious tirade pierced my eardrum. "What have you been doing? You should be taking care of her and not working like a slave! Why can’t you be a responsible mother and a proper wife to my son and granddaughter, huh? Do you not care for your family?"

I paused, forcing myself to take a deep, steadying sigh. "I am not neglecting my daughter, Mrs. Vance—"

"Then why did she get injured? Huh?" she screamed, cutting me off.

Some people say your greatest enemy in marriage is your mother-in-law, and in my case, it was a proven fact. Yes, my family was not as powerful as theirs, but we were never desperate. Without the Vances, I could still feed Maisie perfectly well.

"Quit your job, Valerie!" Mrs. Vance demanded, her voice dripping with venom. "You are only burdening my son by selfishly abandoning your granddaughter! You need to focus on Maisie, because I am telling you, if something bad happens to my granddaughter again, I will never forgive you!"

I refused to internalize the woman's toxic disrespect. A cold, detached demeanor washed over me, freezing the leftover sorrow in my veins.

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of my daughter while maintaining my medical career, Mrs. Vance," I replied, my tone flat and emotionless. "Do not worry about Maisie. I know exactly what to do."

"You stubborn wench! I will tell Gideon about this—"

"Sorry for cutting you off, Mrs. Vance," I instructed coldly. "I have a duty today so I need to go. Go tell your son about our discussion. Also, urge him to agree to my demands and sign the papers."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"I need to go, Mrs. Vance. Thanks for worrying about my motherly duties."

With a blank face, I abruptly ended the call. I was done enduring this shitty, abusive marriage and the toxic family attached to it. The fact that Gideon broke my daughter’s heart and considered another woman and child as his true family was more than enough.

Filled with a renewed, ironclad determination, I grabbed my phone and opened a secure messaging app. I typed out a demanding message to my private investigator, requesting a comprehensive list of the country's best divorce lawyers.

Hours later, during a brief break in my shift, I reviewed the initial document my PI sent over. I grew increasingly frustrated as I scrolled through the names. The document revealed a crushing truth: Gideon’s far-reaching connections had monopolized almost every top-tier lawyer on the list. He secured strong relationships with powerful families across the country, creating glaring conflicts of interest that blocked me at every turn.

Refusing to be cornered by his wealth, I messaged the PI again, demanding alternatives before my shift ended.

The PI returned with a severely shortened list containing only three names. Two of the lawyers were notorious for playing dirty in the courtroom. Out of the three, only one lawyer was truly exceptional and decent.

I swallowed hard as I stared at his contact number glowing on my phone screen. Tristan de Sol.

A renowned, righteous attorney who refused to ever compromise his personal principles. He was fair, brilliant, and unmatched in court. However, there was a massive, complicated catch attached to his name. Tristan happened to be Gideon’s best friend from their college days. He was a college senior alongside Gideon.

I had serious doubts about whether he would ever accept my case against his closest friend. The conflict of interest was towering. But deep down, I knew the truth. For the sake of my daughter’s future, I had to try to hire him. He was the only one principled enough to fight Gideon.

Later that day, my shift finally ended. I walked tiredly through the hospital lobby, heading for the main exit to go home. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air as patients and staff moved past me.

Suddenly, my steady steps faltered.

Walking directly toward me was a young child. A boy. The sight of the child made my heart drop straight into my stomach. He possessed the same dark eyes, the same jawline, the same unmistakable features. He perfectly and undeniably resembled my husband, Gideon.

Walking right beside the boy was a woman. She was deeply engrossed in talking on her mobile phone, looking elegant and put-together.

As the distance between us closed, she lowered her phone. Our gazes suddenly locked.

The air in my lungs vanished. An intense, fiery hatred instantly consumed my heart. My blood began to boil with a blinding anger.

Beatrice Finch.

The woman destroying my family. The mistress Gideon lied for.

She looked right at me. Recognition flashed in her eyes. And then, Beatrice Finch had the sheer audacity to smile directly at me.