True Colors Revealed

Lying on the narrow mattress in the sweltering darkness of the windowless storeroom, Valerie stared up at an invisible ceiling. The heavy summer heat trapped inside the cramped space felt suffocating, pressing against her skin until sweat beaded along her collarbones. She used a nearby hardcover book to fan herself, but the sluggish air offered zero relief. As she lay there, Roxanne’s malicious claim echoed repeatedly in her mind.

*Roxanne said I had forgiven them.*

It was nonsense. Valerie hadn’t known about the sordid affair until the very moment the video lit up the banquet hall screens. If she had no idea they were sleeping together behind her back, how could she have possibly offered forgiveness?

The gears in her tired mind turned, piecing the ugly puzzle together. Roxanne had clearly played the video herself. It was a calculated move to deliberately frame Valerie, making it look as though the jilted fiancée had chosen the most humiliating, vindictive method to expose them. Roxanne wasn't stupid; there were a hundred quieter ways to confess. She chose the explosive route, knowing Donovan would blindly take her side.

*He always does,* Valerie thought, her chest aching.

In all their years together, Donovan had never once apologized whenever Roxanne crossed boundaries. Instead, he constantly defended the other woman. He would sigh, run a hand through his hair, and emphasize that Roxanne was a fragile, good friend who needed their support. He always demanded that Valerie should 'be nice' to her.

*Donovan, am I being nice to her by letting you go?* Valerie wondered bitterly into the dark.

A fresh wave of sorrow washed over her as she remembered the gaze Donovan reserved for Roxanne. It was a tender, affectionate look, soft and full of protective warmth. It was a look Valerie had chased for years, desperate for a sliver of that devotion, yet she had never received it. He had taken her quiet support for granted while handing his heart to her supposed best friend.

The betrayals didn't stop with Donovan. Miranda’s past warmth toward her was equally hollow. For years, Donovan's mother had treated Valerie with a gentle kindness that Valerie had sworn to repay. Now, those memories tasted like ash. Valerie finally understood with brutal clarity that the Prescott family’s eager acceptance wasn't born of affection for her, nor out of sympathy for the early loss of her mother.

Their welcoming smiles were rooted in unadulterated greed.

The truth of her situation lay in the financial empire her mother’s side of the family had built. As the sole biological heiress to the Kensington family, Valerie officially held a massive forty percent stake in Kensington Multimedia. Her father, Wallace, had married into the family, meaning only offspring bearing the true Kensington bloodline could inherit the core assets. Anticipating vicious predators, her late grandfather and mother had locked the immense inheritance in a strict trust. All dividends and voting rights remained inaccessible until Valerie turned twenty-five.

Her own father had proven their suspicions correct. When Valerie turned eighteen, Wallace deemed her old enough to manipulate. He had tried repeatedly to coerce her into signing a legal document that would pledge half her assets over to her half-sister, Bridget. He wanted the Kensington legacy funneled straight into his second family's pockets.

His plot hit a massive wall. The family lawyers and four key corporate shareholders had intervened, threatening to collapse the entire company. They warned that if Wallace transferred those shares to Bridget, they would pull their critical investments. Wallace's thirty percent stake alone wasn't enough to keep Kensington Multimedia afloat. Forced to back down, her father's family had simply pivoted from manipulating her to resenting her.

Frustrated by the roadblock, Wallace had allied with the Prescotts. Together, they meticulously planned to use Valerie's blind infatuation with Donovan to secure her wealth. If she married Donovan, her locked assets would naturally serve as a massive dowry, bridging the gap between the two families and putting the Kensington wealth right where Wallace and Miranda wanted it.

"Grandpa, Mom," Valerie murmured quietly to the empty room, her voice barely a whisper above the sound of her makeshift fan. "Twenty-five isn't a safe age either. If I were an idiot, I'd still be an idiot at twenty-five years old."

She let out a dry, humorless laugh. Misfortune had spared her one single thing: Donovan finding his true love before the wedding. If they had managed to keep the affair a secret until after the vows were exchanged, Valerie would have been trapped in a loveless marriage, her inheritance bled dry by the very people who smiled at her across the dinner table.

Knowing her abusive family would never let her simply rent an apartment and live in peace—doing so would remove her from their daily control and embarrass the Kensington name—she resolved that a legal marriage was her only escape route.

She sat up on the edge of the uncomfortable bed, her mind shifting from grief to cold, hard logic. She decided to draw up a watertight contract for Alaric. He needed a wife, and she needed an out. If he was sensible, he would agree to act as her temporary savior in exchange for fair, massive financial benefits once she came into her inheritance. The identity of the man hardly mattered anymore, as long as he agreed to her terms and offered her a shield.

She needed a safe haven to escape Bridget and Rowena's endless tricks. Once she had a secure roof over her head, she could focus on her real goal. She aimed to earn three hundred thousand dollars independently to finance her five-year studies in Alden. It was a steep hill to climb, but she could work while pursuing her degree. She needed to replan her entire future. This time, she was on her own, vowing to protect herself at all costs. No one would ever use her again.

The next morning arrived with a bright, glaring sun. Fueled by their own boundless greed, Wallace eagerly brought Bridget to the towering headquarters of Vanguard International. The majestic, glass-paneled building stretched high into the sky, dominating the bustling heart of the city. Elite professionals hurried past the glass doors, their strides radiating a confident pride unmatched by employees of lesser firms.

Standing on the sunlit plaza, Bridget tilted her head back, gazing up at the sheer scale of the corporate giant. A bright, arrogant smile stretched across her manicured face. She was already envisioning herself as the untouchable owner of the company. In her mind, she was no longer just Wallace's favored daughter; she was the pampered wife of Vanguard's esteemed boss, looking down on these scurrying elites from a penthouse suite.

Miles above the street level, inside the top-floor executive suite, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to Bridget's wild fantasies. The sprawling office was a monument to quiet efficiency and modern design.

Sitting behind a sleek, expansive desk, Alaric casually signed a thick document. The sharp scratch of his expensive pen was the loudest sound in the room. He closed the folder, tapped it once against the polished wood, and handed it to his assistant, Dexter Farley.

"Get in touch with Jaxon," Alaric instructed in a smooth, even tone. "And have him find a place for me near University of Oakhaven. Something around a thousand square feet, suitable for two people, and fully equipped with all the essentials."

Dexter accepted the file with a crisp nod. "Understood."

Seeing that his boss was already pulling another contract from the towering stack, Dexter stepped aside and pulled out his phone to call Jaxon. The request was oddly specific, but Dexter knew better than to question Alaric's directives.

A short while later, the heavy office doors swung open, and Jaxon strolled in, carrying a tablet. He had caught the tail end of the housing request from Dexter and immediately ran a search through their extensive portfolios.

"Boss," Jaxon began, walking toward the desk. "What do you think about Moonlight Apartment near University of Oakhaven? It's just a ten-minute stroll from the campus and boasts a thriving community with all the amenities you could need."

Alaric paused, his pen hovering over the signature line of a new contract. He thought for a brief moment, but the name didn't ring a bell. "Fine. Go ahead and purchase a unit."

Jaxon let out a loud, warm laugh, shaking his head. "Boss, that's our property. You reserved a suite for yourself on the twenty-eighth floor ages ago. I was wondering why you never brought it up again. Turns out you just forgot you owned it."

Dexter shot his colleague a sharp glare, annoyed by the casual tone. "Cut the crap and get it sorted already."

Alaric merely glanced at Jaxon, his expression unreadable, and remained silent. Unfazed by Dexter's reprimand, Jaxon stuck out his tongue playfully and turned, heading for the heavy double doors to execute the order. Just as his hand grasped the polished handle, a thought struck him.

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. He playfully asked, "Boss, will you be living alone or will Mr. Gallagher be joining you?"

Without looking up from his paperwork, the steady scratch of his pen resuming its rhythmic pace, Alaric responded in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.

"It'll be me and my wife."