The Million-Dollar Bargain

Wallace sat frozen in his leather dining chair, his jaw slack as Valerie’s words hung in the heavy, stagnant air of the dining room. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. He stared at her, his brow furrowing into a deep, jagged canyon of confusion. *Benefits? What benefits? When did she start requesting a return when we asked her to do something?* Since Nadine died, Wallace had looked at his eldest daughter with nothing short of sheer disgust and mounting impatience. He despised Valerie. He never bothered to conceal his contempt. To hear her demand terms felt like a slap across the face.

"What did you say?" Wallace asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Valerie held her ground. She squared her shoulders, feeling the smooth fabric of her dress brushing against her skin. "I said, what benefits would I get if I could get Alaric to come home and introduce him to Bridget?" She enunciated every syllable, letting the question land like a stone on the glass dining table.

"Do you even need benefits?" Wallace barked, anger vibrating in his chest.

Valerie remained motionless. Her expression was a mask of cold composure. She knew the brutal truth. Wallace would never love her. No matter how much she sacrificed, no matter how hard she tried to please him, she would always remain an outsider. Her surname was Kensington, a detail that sealed her fate in this house long ago. Knowing she had zero chance of winning their affection, she needed to secure tangible assets. She needed cold, hard cash.

"Of course," Valerie said smoothly. Under the table, her fingernails dug into her palms. Her knuckles turned white. "I need to know if it's worthwhile for me to do so." Her pulse hammered in her ears. Bargaining with her biological father was a terrifying first step, yet she forced her voice to remain steady.

"What do you want?" Wallace demanded, leaning forward. His dark eyes bore into her.

Usually, a look like that from Wallace would send Valerie shrinking into her seat. She would lower her head, her voice trembling in submission. Today, Valerie simply stared back. She met his furious gaze without a single flinch.

Across the table, Rowena and Bridget sat paralyzed. The sudden, drastic shift in Valerie's demeanor left them speechless. They stared at the woman sitting opposite them, unable to process the sudden backbone she displayed.

Valerie cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "If I can invite Mr. Sinclair here and introduce him to Bridget, you will pay me 1.5 million dollars. How about that?"

Bridget slammed her hands onto the table. The silverware rattled. "What? How greedy of you!" she shrieked, her face twisting into an ugly scowl.

Valerie did not blink. She watched Bridget’s chest heave with indignation. The naked ambition in their eyes was obvious. They coveted Alaric. They wanted his power, his wealth, his status. They intended to use Valerie as a stepping stone to get Alaric into their home, hoping he would fall for Bridget and propose.

Valerie’s mind raced, analyzing the board like a chess master. *If I can extract 1.5 million dollars from Wallace, I will have enough capital to flee the country. I can escape Donovan. I can escape this toxic family. If Mr. Sinclair actually falls for Bridget, I can take my payout and walk away. I get my freedom, and I retain my inheritance rights. Why not? Alaric will probably find Bridget appealing. With Rowena pulling the strings, they can manipulate him into feeling privileged to marry into this mess. A happy ending for them, and an escape route for me. I feel blessed. Every obstacle they throw at me just hands me another weapon. Alaric is proving to be quite a valuable asset.*

"1.5 million dollars?" Bridget yelled, rising to her feet. Her chair scraped loudly against the marble floor. "Valerie, are you out of your mind? We just asked you to invite Mr. Sinclair over as a guest, and you demand 1.5 million dollars?"

Valerie tilted her head, her gaze locking onto her sister. "What's wrong? Is he not worth 1.5 million dollars?"

Bridget’s mouth snapped shut. She stood stunned, her mind struggling to form a rebuttal. *Of course, Alaric is worth the money. He is worth ten times that amount. His value goes beyond mere numbers. But why should we hand 1.5 million dollars to Valerie? I refuse to accept this.*

Watching Bridget’s face contort in silent debate, Valerie felt a surge of triumph. Her gamble was paying off. Alaric’s presence was a premium commodity in this house.

Valerie smiled, a faint curving of her lips. "Do you think he's not worth 1.5 million dollars?"

"Why should I give you 1.5 million dollars?" Bridget spat, her tone dripping with contempt.

"Because I'm able to invite him here," Valerie replied, her voice smooth and unbothered.

Bridget crossed her arms, sneering down at her sister. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, trying to mask the bubbling jealousy in her gut. She could not stomach the idea of Valerie holding something of value. "Hmph! It'll only count when he actually shows up." *1.5 million dollars is a massive sum,* Bridget reasoned internally. *Why on earth should we enrich her?*

Valerie raised an eyebrow. "What if you fail to keep the promise?" she asked. *They have broken their word countless times. Why should I trust a single syllable that comes out of their mouths?*

Bridget’s face flushed scarlet. She gritted her teeth. *What the hell is going on with her today? She refuses to back down. She refuses to break.*

"Enough!" Wallace roared. His deep voice echoed off the high ceiling, silencing the brewing argument. He drummed his thick fingers on the table, calculating his next move.

"Valerie, call Alaric," Wallace ordered, adopting a negotiating tone. "If he agrees to come, I'll transfer you 300 thousand dollars first."

Valerie masked a chuckle behind a polite cough. "Dad, I want 1.5 million dollars," she insisted. She knew Wallace better than anyone. Breaching a promise was second nature to him. If she accepted the fraction without a fight, he would never pay the rest.

Wallace’s expression darkened into a scowl. The veins in his neck bulged. "I told you to call him first," he stated, refusing to yield an inch. "If he agrees, I'll transfer you 300 thousand dollars. The rest will be discussed later."

Valerie paused, pretending to weigh the offer. "Okay. Dad, let's be fair. I'll call him once I've received 300 thousand dollars. If he agrees to come, you'll cover the remainder."

"Well, Wally, just agree to Valerie's conditions," Rowena chimed in. Her voice was smooth, pouring honey over the tense exchange. She had been observing the standoff with sharp, calculated eyes. Valerie’s unshakeable determination sparked a revelation in Rowena’s mind. Valerie must hold a genuine connection to Alaric to demand such terms. Otherwise, she would never dare to speak with this much confidence.

Valerie let out a slow, silent breath, the tension leaving her shoulders as Rowena took her side. The battle was won.

Wallace shot a venomous glare at Valerie. He snatched his smartphone from the table, his fingers jabbing at the screen with aggressive force. The dining room fell silent again, save for the harsh tapping of Wallace entering his banking details.

A soft ping emanated from Valerie's phone.

"I've transferred it to you," Wallace said through gritted teeth. "Check it. Then, can you make a call now?" He glared at her, wishing he could reach across the table and strangle her. *How dare she extort me in my own home. The audacity.*

Valerie picked up her phone with steady hands, ignoring the murderous glares aimed at her. She tapped the screen, opening her banking application. A small loading circle spun for a second before the balance updated. The numbers glared back at her in crisp, black font. Three hundred thousand dollars sat pristine and cleared in her checking account. A thrill of pure excitement sparked in her chest, warming her from the inside out. *This time, they are truly desperate to win Alaric's favor. Thank you, Alaric. I never imagined you could be so lucrative.*

Valerie knew the truth. Even if Alaric walked through their front door right now, Wallace would never hand over the remaining 1.2 million. That was the genius of her initial demand. By setting the anchor at 1.5 million, she forced the advance payment to a substantial figure. If she had only asked for 300 thousand from the start, Wallace would have haggled the advance down to a measly 60 thousand.

She felt a profound sense of delight. She had secured her escape fund with nothing more than a few brazen words.

Bridget marched around the long dining table, the heels of her shoes clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. She stopped inches from Valerie, pointing an accusing finger right at her face. "Call him now! If you take that money and do nothing, I'll make sure to get every last penny back."

Valerie locked her phone screen and placed the device face-down on the table. She looked up at her enraged sister, her expression unreadable.

"I don't have Alaric's contact information," Valerie stated. Her voice was as calm as a still lake.

"What?" Bridget shrieked. Her eyes went wide, and she stumbled back half a step, looking as if she might pass out from the shock.

"Dad!" Bridget spun toward Wallace, waving her arms in hysterics. "She lied to us! Did you hear that? She lied to us! She doesn't have Mr. Sinclair's phone number at all!"

Wallace gripped the edge of the table. His knuckles jutted out, white and strained, as he fought the urge to flip the table. The realization that his estranged daughter had just swindled him out of three hundred thousand dollars settled heavily over the room, poisoning the air. He had been outplayed in his own domain by the daughter he considered worthless.

Before Wallace could unleash his fury, Valerie shrugged, waving a dismissive hand. "Why are you in such a hurry? I'm sure he'll call me. We'll just have to wait and see."

Bridget opened her mouth to scream, but Rowena quickly placed a restraining hand on her daughter’s arm, giving a sharp shake of her head.

Rowena stared at Valerie. The girl had transformed overnight. The timid, compliant punching bag was gone, replaced by a calculating stranger. Valerie no longer cowered under their orders.

Bridget seethed, cursing a blue streak inside her head. *Damn it! She holds Alaric as her ultimate trump card, and now she has us dancing in the palm of her hand.*

Bridget leaned over the table, getting right in Valerie’s face. She bared her teeth, her chest heaving with erratic, shallow breaths. The sheer humiliation of being manipulated by Valerie burned through her veins like acid.

"Take out your phone," Bridget demanded, every word dripping with venom. "If Mr. Sinclair calls, you put it on loudspeaker." She glared at the device, vowing internal retribution. *Valerie dared to play us. I will make her pay in blood.*