A Farewell Confession

The harsh truth of her existence had never been a secret. Valerie had known deep down that she was adopted since she was a small child. Brenda made sure of it. Her adoptive mother wielded that painful fact like a sharpened blade, bringing it down whenever she needed to demand endless financial favors or unquestioning obedience. "We fed you, we clothed you, we kept you off the streets," Brenda would say, day in and day out.

The relentless reminders had shaped Valerie’s childhood into a quiet, solitary struggle. She had spent years watching other children bask in the unconditional warmth of their parents, wondering why she was different. Now, as a grown woman, a deep sense of resignation had settled over her. She accepted her solitary fate. Friends, husbands, and even parents were fleeting presences. She was destined to walk her path alone.

Yet, beneath that heavy resignation, a profound gratitude anchored her to this family. Arthur Dunn. Her adoptive father had saved her from freezing to death in the wilderness. Her earliest memory was a fragmented nightmare of biting winter wind, gnawing hunger, and suffocating terror. She had been wandering alone in the desolate cold, slipping into a feverish void, until Arthur found her. When she finally woke up from her coma, his weathered, gentle face was the first thing she saw. He had hugged her, coaxing her back to life with a warmth she had desperately clung to. Even though the Dunn family could barely afford to feed themselves back then, and Brenda had fought bitterly against taking in another mouth to feed, Arthur had stood his ground. For a man who lived his life avoiding conflict, his determination to adopt Valerie had been his single act of fierce rebellion.

A loud, jarring crash echoed from the kitchen, snapping Valerie out of her memories. Brenda was throwing pots and pans against the counter, venting her frustration at Valerie’s refusal to fund Roland’s latest scheme.

"What happened?" Arthur’s gruff, tired voice drifted through the thin walls.

"You adopted a good daughter! It is not easy for us to raise her all these years. If it were not for us, she might be working in a dingy factory right now. Would she be able to marry someone like Declan? Look at her. She became rich, and she began to look down on her poor family. What is wrong with us asking her for a favor?" Brenda shrieked.

"Valerie is back?" Arthur’s tone instantly brightened, ignoring the toxic tirade.

Heavy footsteps approached Valerie’s bedroom door, followed by a gentle knock. Valerie rose from her battered wooden desk, leaving the silver angel pendant behind, and pulled the thin door open.

"Dad." She offered a soft, genuine smile.

Arthur pushed the door open wider and stepped into the cramped room. He lowered his voice to a gentle murmur. "Ignore your mom. She is just talking."

"OK." Valerie nodded slightly.

Arthur looked around the small room, his brow furrowing in concern. "Why did you suddenly come back alone? Where is Declan?"

Valerie held his gaze, her heart aching for the kind old man. "I divorced him."

Arthur’s face fell, the gentle lines around his eyes tightening into serious, worried creases. "What? Why did you divorce him?"

"We are just not suitable for each other. We live in two different worlds." Valerie kept her voice steady and calm.

"Was it because of your mom and Roland?" Arthur frowned deeper.

Valerie reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Tell them not to disturb Declan anymore. I am serious about this."

Arthur shifted his weight, his expression clouded with hesitation. It was not that he wanted to bother Declan, but he knew his own weakness. Brenda ruled the household with an iron fist, and Roland was her golden child. Arthur had never been able to control their greed.

Valerie understood his silent struggle perfectly. She offered him a bright, reassuring smile. "It is okay. I will tell them. I just came back to see you. I applied for a master's degree at an overseas university, and I was accepted into their architectural program. I am leaving tomorrow."

Arthur stared at her, stunned.

"I will be studying there for two years, so I probably cannot come back often in the future. Take good care of yourself, Dad," Valerie added softly. She reached into her canvas bag, retrieved a sleek bank card loaded with her personal savings, and pressed it into Arthur’s calloused palm. "There is some money on this card. You can use it. Tell me when you need more."

Arthur hurriedly tried to shove the card back into her hands, shaking his head. "You have to spend a lot of money outside. Keep it for yourself. I have enough money."

Valerie wrapped her fingers around his, forcing him to keep the plastic card. "It is okay. I can deal with it."

The reality of her sudden departure finally sank in, and Arthur’s shoulders slumped. "Why are you leaving so suddenly? It is so far away abroad. Can you not study in our country?"

"I just want to change the environment and go out to see the world. Do not worry. Two years will pass quickly. And this school's architectural department ranks fourth in the world. How lucky I was to be accepted!" Valerie squeezed his hand, offering a comforting lie about her sudden rush to leave.

Pride chased away some of the sorrow in Arthur’s eyes. He managed a proud, watery smile. "That is great. I knew you were promising."

"Auntie Valerie!" A high-pitched, childish voice rang out from the hallway.

A two-year-old girl barreled into the room and threw her arms around Valerie’s legs. Valerie’s heart softened. She bent down and scooped the toddler into her arms.

"Cora, did you and your mommy go out to play?" Valerie tapped the little girl’s nose.

Cora nodded enthusiastically and turned her bright eyes toward the doorway. Tessa Dunn, Roland’s wife, stepped into the room. Tessa was a striking, capable woman who had climbed the brutal corporate ladder from a lowly insurance salesperson to a high-earning sales director. She pulled in a massive annual salary, every cent of which Roland drained for his endless, failed business ventures. Yet, Tessa never complained. She worked tirelessly to support the family while Roland lounged at home. Valerie could never understand the dynamic, assuming Roland simply provided Tessa with sweet words and emotional validation.

Tessa offered a polite, distant smile. "Valerie, you are back."

Valerie nodded in acknowledgment, turning her attention back to the toddler clinging intimately to her neck. She reached out and tickle Cora’s sides, drawing out a fit of pure, innocent giggles.

Brenda materialized in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she took in the tender scene. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Since you like children so much, hurry up and give birth to a child. Otherwise, when Declan has a child with someone else in the future, you will regret it. I do not know what you were thinking at that time. You could not even keep a child at such a young age. If you had given birth to that child, we would not need to grovel for a favor now."

The warmth vanished from Valerie’s face. She set Cora down gently and stood up straight, her gaze turning to ice as she locked eyes with her adoptive mother.

"Mom, I have divorced Declan. Do not disturb him anymore." Valerie’s voice was devoid of any affection.

Brenda and Roland, who had just walked up behind his mother, froze in the doorway.

"What?" Brenda gasped.

Valerie refused to engage further. The boundary was set, and she was done playing their twisted games. She turned on her heel, grabbed her canvas bag, and brushed past them without a backward glance. She had to pack her luggage for her evening flight.

Back in the room, the shock gave way to confusion.

"Really? Why did they suddenly divorce?" Brenda muttered, staring at the empty hallway.

Arthur let out a heavy, defeated sigh. "Yes, and she is leaving tomorrow."

Roland pushed past his mother, his face twisting into a deep frown. "Where is she going?"

"She said she was going to study abroad for two years," Arthur replied.

Roland’s mind raced. His cash cow was fleeing the country, and his connection to the Zenith Group empire was severing. Panic and greed flared in his chest. He spun around and stormed out of the house.

An hour later, Roland marched through the soaring glass doors of Zenith Group’s towering headquarters. The lobby was a masterpiece of polished marble and cold, intimidating luxury. Roland strutted forward with practiced arrogance, making a beeline for the elevators.

A receptionist with an impeccable uniform and a strained, professional smile stepped into his path. "Hello, do you have an appointment?"

Roland waved a dismissive hand in her face. "He is my brother-in-law. Why should I make an appointment?"

He tried to bypass her, but a burly security guard quickly stepped in front of the elevator banks, blocking his way.

"Sir, I am sorry. You need to make an appointment to enter the company. Please cooperate with us," the guard stated firmly.

Roland’s face flushed with impatient anger. "I have told you that he is my brother-in-law. Just tell Declan I came."

He tried to shove past the uniform, ready to force his way into the elevator. The security guard planted his feet, refusing to yield an inch. The loud commotion echoed across the quiet, pristine lobby.

"What happened?"

Garrett, Declan’s sharp-eyed assistant, strode over from the reception desk. He took in the scene with a calculating gaze.

The security guard nodded respectfully. "Hello, Mr. Hayes. This gentleman claims to be Mr. Cross's brother-in-law and wants to see him."

Garrett sized Roland up. The man standing before him looked nothing like the elegant, quiet Valerie. There was a desperate, unrefined greed clinging to him.

Roland puffed out his chest, catching Garrett's skeptical look. "Valerie is really my younger sister. If you do not believe me, you can go upstairs and ask Declan."

Garrett weighed the potential fallout of throwing the man out versus letting him up. He made a swift decision. "Let him go upstairs."

The security guard stepped aside, allowing Roland to enter the private elevator.

Roland smirked at the guard, pointing a thumb at his own chest. "I told you that Declan was my brother-in-law, but you did not believe me."

Garrett escorted Roland up to the top floor in heavy silence. They stepped out into a plush, hushed corridor that reeked of power and immense wealth.

"Wait outside for a moment. I will inform Mr. Cross." Garrett gestured to the waiting area and stepped toward the heavy oak door of the president's office. He knocked twice. "Mr. Cross."

"Come in," Declan’s deep, commanding voice filtered through the wood.

Garrett pushed the door open, ready to announce the unwanted guest. Before he could utter a single word, Roland shoved past him, barging directly into the opulent office.

Roland marched right up to the massive mahogany desk and slammed his hands down on the polished surface. "Did you divorce Valerie, Declan?"

Garrett froze in the doorway, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.

Declan sat behind the desk, framed by the sprawling city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His hand rested lightly on his computer mouse. At Roland’s loud demand, his fingers went perfectly still. He slowly lifted his head, his handsome face an unreadable, impassive mask. He shot a chilling side-eye at his assistant.

"Mr. Dunn came in himself." Garrett swallowed hard.

Roland waved his hand casually, oblivious to the lethal tension in the room. "Yes, I am just anxious. What is wrong with you two? Why did you suddenly divorce? Valerie is leaving tomorrow."

Declan stared at the greedy man standing across from him. His mind processed the explosive information with terrifying speed. Valerie was leaving tomorrow. The finality of it struck a hidden nerve, but not a single muscle in his face twitched. He needed to maintain control of this volatile situation.

"Valerie and I are fine." Declan lied smoothly, his voice a calm, even drawl.

Roland’s aggressive posture vanished in an instant. He let out a loud, dramatic sigh of relief and leaned back. "I knew it. It is normal for couples to occasionally have some conflicts. Just coax her."

Declan remained silent, his dark eyes fixed on his brother-in-law.

The silence stretched, turning thick and awkward. Roland shifted his weight, rubbing his hands together in a nervous, opportunistic gesture. He seamlessly pivoted to his true motive. "By the way, Declan, the resort project I mentioned before..."

Declan cut him off with surgical precision. "I am not in charge of that project."

Roland’s eager smile faltered, but he forced it to stay pinned on his face. "I see."

He dropped his gaze, rubbing his palms together in visible disappointment. Roland had spent his life crossing boundaries, treating everyone with an overly familiar, invasive disrespect. He never thought before he spoke, and he never felt shame. Yet, standing under Declan’s predatory, silent stare, a rare flush of embarrassment crept up his neck.

Declan watched the man squirm. He needed this parasite out of his office, and he needed the Dunn family pacified and severed from his life quietly. He softened his tone just enough to bait the hook. "By the way, your mother wants to buy a villa in Maplewood Community recently, right?"

Roland’s eyes lit up with renewed greed. "Yes. Valerie does not even have a room to stay when she gets home, so we have to move to a bigger house. I wanted to borrow some money from you for the down payment..."

Roland lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, too afraid to mention that Valerie had explicitly forbidden them from asking for this money.

Declan gave a curt nod. "I will ask Garrett to transfer it to you later."

The heavy oak door swung open again. Miranda, Declan’s mother, stepped into the office. She froze in her tracks, her sharp eyes locking onto Roland.

Roland, practically vibrating with greedy joy, puffed his chest out again. "I knew Valerie had chosen the right person. Declan, you are a generous man. Your business will definitely become more and more prosperous in the future."

Miranda’s elegant features twisted into a mask of unfiltered, blatant disgust. She turned her face away, unable to stomach the sight of the groveling man.

Declan caught his mother’s reaction. His expression darkened. "What is up?"

Miranda smoothed her features, hiding her revulsion beneath a veneer of aristocratic grace. "I am here to find Garrett. I am flying northwest tomorrow. Burt has asked for leave. Garrett, take me to the airport if you are free."

She turned her sharp gaze to the assistant lingering near the doorway.

Garrett gave a polite nod. "Okay, Mrs. Cross."

"I will send you the flight information later." Miranda kept her posture rigid. She cast one last, sweeping glance of disdain at Roland, then looked back at her son. She opened her mouth, clearly preparing to lecture Declan about indulging his parasitic in-laws.

Declan did not give her the chance.

"Mom, you can leave now." Declan’s voice was a sharp, cold whip. "In the future, if you want to come over, you had better ask someone to inform me in advance."

Miranda flinched as if struck. She glared at him, her lips pressing into a thin white line. Realizing her son would not tolerate her interference, she gave a stiff, reluctant nod. She spun on her designer heels and marched out of the office, slamming the door shut behind her.

Roland watched the dramatic exit, blinking in confusion. He looked from the closed door to Declan’s calm, handsome face. "Are you on bad terms with your mom?"

"No," Declan replied flatly.

Roland shrugged. He did not actually care about Declan’s family drama. He had his prize. He offered an awkward, sycophantic grin. "Then I will have to trouble you about the villa."

Declan dismissed him with a nod and reached for a stack of financial reports on his desk.

Roland turned to leave, but paused near the door. He looked back, offering one last piece of earnest, unsolicited advice. "I do not know if Valerie is really going to leave tomorrow. You are her husband anyway. It is not a big problem to get her back."

Declan’s hand froze over the financial report. The words echoed in the quiet space, striking a chord deep within his chest. He pulled the thick file toward him and calmly spread it open, refusing to look up.

Assuming his work here was done, Roland walked out of the office, his chest puffed out with victory.

The heavy oak door clicked shut. The massive office was finally swallowed by a heavy, oppressive silence.

Declan sat completely still. He stared blindly at the dense columns of numbers on the financial report. The pristine white pages blurred before his eyes. A fierce, hidden storm raged beneath his calm exterior. Valerie was leaving the country tomorrow. She was walking away from him, from their marriage, and crossing an ocean to build a new life.

Minutes ticked by in agonizing silence.

Declan shoved the thick stack of documents away with a harsh scrape. He picked up another file, flipped it open, and threw it back down on the mahogany desk. He could not focus. He raised a hand, pressing his long fingers against his furrowed brow, and turned his chair to gaze out the floor-to-ceiling window. The sprawling, bustling city below looked small and insignificant. A rare, deep sense of turmoil gnawed at his ironclad composure.

Garrett appeared in the open doorway, clutching a leather binder. He had been secretly observing his boss from outside. Seeing Declan in such a deeply unsettled and unusual state sent a wave of alarm through the assistant. He stepped cautiously into the room.

"Mr. Cross, do we need to postpone tomorrow's meeting with Mr. Tate?" Garrett kept his voice low and carefully neutral.

Declan’s hand dropped from his brow. The brief moment of vulnerability vanished, locked away behind a fortress of sheer willpower. He straightened his posture, his broad shoulders squaring as his expression snapped back to its usual terrifying, absolute composure. He turned his dark, piercing eyes on his assistant.

"No!" he ordered.