Too Late to Reclaim His Queen

I was wiping away an angry tear when the terrace door opened.

The sound of heels on marble. I didn’t have to look.

“Valerie,” Rebecca’s soft voice said behind me. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re upset.”

I turned to face her. She glided toward me, wearing that fake, pitying smile I knew so well.

“I’ll give you some credit,” she said, her voice dripping with false pity. “You helped.”

I laughed coldly. “Fine. Go tell Miles what you did to my assistant.”

The smile on Rebecca’s face froze.

“Tell him how you’ve been stealing my credit for years, sabotaging my work,” I said, stepping toward her. “Go on, Rebecca. Tell him what your ‘special talents’ really are.”

She was silent for a beat. Then, her syrupy-sweet act evaporated.

Rebecca scoffed. “I was just being polite. You didn’t actually believe that, did you?”

Her eyes flashed with triumph. “Everything I have, I earned. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Earned?” I was floored by her nerve. “Stealing my intel is earning it? Sabotaging my deals? Bribing my staff?”

“So what?” Rebecca’s voice turned sharp. “No matter what you do, you’re just setting the stage for me. The credit is mine. And Miles believes me.”

She lifted her chin, smug. “No one in this family will ever believe in you. You’re just Miles’s pretty little fiancée. A placeholder. They’ll kick you out eventually.”

“And sooner or later, Miles will be mine, too.”

As she spoke, she deliberately raised her wrist, showing off an antique bracelet.

It was engraved with the Falcone family crest.

My blood ran cold.

It was his mother’s. The Falcone family heirloom. Reserved for the future Donna.

“Where did you get that?” I snapped, stepping forward to get a closer look.

But as I reached for her, Rebecca took a clumsy step back, as if startled, and lurched right into me.

“Ah—!” she shrieked, flailing her arms.

I heard a sharp snap.

I looked down. The chain on my father's pocket watch was broken.

The ancient silver watch fell to the ground. The case popped open, the glass shattering with a sickening crack.

Rebecca’s stiletto heel came down right on top of it.

CRUNCH. The delicate gears inside were crushed. The tiny photo of my father holding me as a little girl—mangled. Unrecognizable.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry. I’m so clumsy,” Rebecca said, clutching her chest, pretending to be startled.

But I saw the flicker of triumph in her eyes.

That was the only thing I had left of my father.

When he died fifteen years ago, I’d cried all night, clutching that watch.

The photo inside was the last one we ever took. Him holding five-year-old me, his smile so warm.

Now it was destroyed. I couldn’t even see his face.

“You…” My voice trembled.

“I’m really so sorry, Valerie,” Rebecca said, feigning guilt. “It’s just a stupid watch. I’ll buy you a new one.”

Buy me a new one?

Did she think money could replace everything?

All the blood rushed to my head. I snapped.

I slapped her. Hard.

The red wine in my hand went with it, splashing across her face.

“Get. Out.” I snarled, each word a blade.

Rebecca clutched her cheek, red wine dripping down her face, staining her silver dress.

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at me in disbelief.

I didn’t have time to wonder why she wasn’t fighting back. My mind was blank.

Just then, an iron grip seized my wrist.

Miles’s voice was laced with ice. “Valerie, have you lost your mind?”