Ulterior Motives

"If they have known each other since she was ten and still harbored feelings, she wouldn't have spent years chasing after Donovan like a lovesick fool," Rowena pointed out, her voice barely a whisper in the dimly lit study. She paced toward the massive oak desk, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. "We all saw how devoted she was to that boy. She is just blinded by a temporary lovers' quarrel right now. She wants Donovan, not Mr. Sinclair. This marriage request is nothing more than a petty stunt to make Donovan jealous."

Bridget bit her lower lip, the jealousy still simmering in her chest. She crossed her arms, refusing to accept that Valerie could ever secure a man like Alaric Sinclair.

Rowena turned to face her husband and daughter, meticulously laying out her intricate scheme. "We use her. We convince her to matchmake Bridget with Mr. Sinclair. She is your sister, Bridget. If you ask nicely, she won't want an outsider taking advantage of such a wealthy man, right? We just need to play on her familial loyalty. As for her and Donovan, she will go right back to him once she cools off. It's normal for couples to fight."

Wallace slapped his palm heavily on the desk, his patience wearing thin. "Fine. I'll get that ungrateful brat down here right now and make her call Sinclair in front of us." He marched toward the door, his face flushed with impatience, intending to drag Valerie out of her room.

Rowena darted forward, grabbing his arm to hold him back. "Wally, stop. Don't be so hasty."

Wallace turned, his brow furrowed in irritation. "What now?"

"She's your biological daughter, and she is nursing a broken heart. You need her help. If you storm upstairs and raise your voice, she will dig her heels in. The plan will backfire." Rowena smoothed down the lapel of Wallace's jacket, her eyes flashing with calculated intent. "Go console her. Both of you. Play nice. Do you hear me?"

Wallace huffed, the fight leaving his broad shoulders. He exchanged a glance with Bridget, who nodded in reluctant agreement. They had to play the game.

Downstairs in the grand dining room, Marta set the table with an unusually lavish spread. The scent of roasted rosemary chicken, garlic butter shrimp, seared scallops, and baked asparagus filled the air. They were all Valerie's favorite dishes, prepared with rare attention to detail.

Valerie descended the staircase, her stomach rumbling with intense hunger. She had spent the agonizing morning locked in her bedroom, meticulously drafting her marriage contract with Alaric Sinclair. Since they were entering a legal union based on mutual terms, she needed to ensure her own security. Every single clause, every potential loophole required her strict attention to prevent any future losses. The mental drain of negotiating her future left her famished.

When she stepped into the dining room and saw the steaming platters, her footsteps faltered.

Wallace sat at the head of the long mahogany table. He cleared his throat, forcing a stiff, unnatural gentleness into his tone. "Sit down, Valerie. Let's eat."

Rowena and Bridget offered eager, eerie smiles from their respective seats. The suffocating warmth radiating from her step-family made the hairs on the back of Valerie's neck stand up. It was a bizarre, creepy scene. In all her years living under this roof, Wallace had never spoken to her with such soft consideration.

She pulled out her chair and sat. *Even if they poisoned the food, I would rather face death on a full stomach,* she thought. *Whatever sinister plot they are hatching, I need my strength to fight it.*

Valerie picked up her silver fork and silently devoured her meal. She chewed deliberately, keeping her eyes fixed on her porcelain plate, refusing to offer a single word to break the thick tension. The trio watched her eat, exchanging subtle, loaded glances over their crystal wine glasses, waiting for her guard to drop.

As soon as Valerie wiped her mouth with a linen napkin, she pushed her chair back and stood up. She wanted to retreat upstairs to her sanctuary immediately.

"Valerie, don't leave just yet," Rowena said smoothly. She stood up and placed a gentle, manicured hand on Valerie's arm. "We have something to discuss with you."

Rowena shot a meaningful look at Wallace.

Wallace nodded tightly, gesturing to the chair. "Please, sit down."

Valerie slowly lowered herself back into the seat, straightening her spine. If they planned to force her into the Prescott family marriage, she would simply tune them out. If they pushed too hard, she would pack a bag and flee overseas. She might be short on cash, but she would find a way to survive.

Rowena took her seat again, masking her dark intentions behind a motherly smile. "Valerie, honey, what exactly is your relationship with Mr. Sinclair?"

Valerie lowered her eyes, deliberately shielding her emotions from their prying gazes. "We will get married as soon as possible," she answered softly but firmly.

"What? He said yes?" Bridget blurted out. The fake facade crumbled instantly. Her face flushed with shock, and she pressed her manicured nails so hard into her palms that the skin nearly broke. Pure, unfiltered jealousy radiated from her rigid posture.

Valerie remained silent, offering no denial.

Rowena shot Bridget a sharp warning look, signaling her to rein in her jealousy. She quickly pivoted the conversation, keeping her voice light. "Valerie, you'll start university soon. Have you found a place to intern yet?"

Valerie blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. "Yes. I report to work in two days."

Rowena smiled warmly. "You are such a capable girl. If Bridget had half your work ethic, I wouldn't have to worry about her."

Valerie kept her mouth shut. Bridget didn't work hard because Wallace handed her everything on a silver platter. Valerie never had such a privilege.

Seeing Valerie's guard lower slightly, Rowena leaned forward, sliding her trap into place. "Since things are progressing so well, invite Mr. Sinclair to our house. If he wants to marry our daughter, he should drop by to get to know us, right?"

Valerie froze. Her eyes darted between Rowena's smiling face and Bridget's tense posture. She knew they were plotting something, so she maintained her silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Wallace’s patience finally snapped. Unable to tolerate his wife's roundabout strategy for another second, he slammed his fist onto the table. The heavy silverware clattered against the fine china.

"Valerie, Mr. Sinclair and you are not a match," Wallace stated in a stern, deep voice, shattering the peaceful charade. "Invite him to the house and introduce Bridget to him instead."

Valerie slowly raised her head, staring blankly at her biological father. A freezing, horrific realization washed over her.

For years, she had endured this exact, soul-crushing phrasing echoing through the halls of this house.

*Valerie, this expensive watch doesn't suit you. Take it off and give it to your sister.*

*Valerie, this tailored suit doesn't look good on you. Let your sister wear it.*

*Valerie, Bridget started learning oil painting. Give your crystal paperweight to your sister.*

*Valerie, Bridget needs a brooch. Your mother’s precious pearl will suit her better. Bring it to your sister.*

She drew a slow, quiet breath, fighting the tremor in her chest. They had relentlessly demanded she surrender her clothes, her toys, and even the cherished keepsakes from her late mother. All for Bridget's sake.

Now, their disgusting demands had escalated. They were no longer asking for jewelry or clothing. They were demanding her literal man. The only person they deemed suitable for Valerie was the cheating, spineless Donovan.

A chilling smile crept onto Valerie's face.

Under the glorious, cold rays of the massive crystal chandelier, Wallace frowned deeply at her unsettling expression. The silent smile made his skin crawl. He hated when she looked so distracted and unreadable. He tightened his jaw, prepared to use physical force to drag her to the phone and demand her compliance, whether she liked it or not. He would not let her ruin this golden chance.

"Did you hear what I said?" Wallace barked, his voice echoing in the large room.

Valerie withdrew her cold gaze, the eerie smile fading into a mask of pure, calculated calm. "I heard you, Dad," she replied.

Wallace leaned back in his leather dining chair, satisfied that she was finally submitting to his will. "Well, you can ask him to come tomorrow," he ordered directly.

Valerie sat perfectly still. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. She folded her hands neatly on her lap, her clear, ringing voice cutting through the massive dining room.

"If I do this, what will I get in return?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and transactional.

Wallace sat stunned, his mouth falling slightly open. Across the table, Rowena and Bridget exchanged bewildered, panicked glances, the color draining from their faces as they realized Valerie was no longer playing by their rules.