The morning after the photo arrived….the one with Arin's face X-marked in red….Lianna doesn't sleep. Doesn't eat. She sits in Arin's bedroom until dawn, watching his chest rise and fall, counting each breath like a lifeline. Her eyes are red, her jaw clenched. The fear has settled underneath her skin like something parasitic.
She showers, dresses, ties her hair back. Her assistant brings her breakfast….tea and toast, untouched.
Juno calls. Kian texts. Mila and Sera's too. The world keeps spinning.
She doesn't answer.
Then—
a delivery.
An Aurum Luxe armored van glides past the gates. Security rushes out, unsure whether to stop it. Her butler, eyes wide, announces,
"It's… from Mr. Vale."
Lianna walks downstairs in silence.
Two uniformed men wheel in a massive velvet-draped crate. The room falls quiet. The air smells faintly of varnish and wealth.
The cloth is pulled.
Inside,
A massive oil painting…..moody, surreal. A faceless woman with a crown of thorns. Her body made of smoke. Her eyes stitched shut.
The title plaque reads,
"For the Woman Who Sees the Truth."
Signed at the bottom corner in a sharp, unmistakable scrawl:
–K.V.
The staff gasps.
Someone takes a photo. A camera shutter snaps.
Juno, who had just arrived, stands by the doorway in all-black. She says nothing for a moment. Then,
"He's trying to buy his way back. Flash, guilt, spectacle."
Lianna steps closer to the painting, her heels echoing just like gunfire on marble.
She stares at it.
It's beautiful.
It's haunting.
It's a curse dressed like an apology.
Her voice, when it comes, is cold and clear,
"Have the driver wait."
Later That Evening – The Grand Palais Gallery
The city's art elite have gathered. The media buzzes. Champagne flows. Everyone is waiting for Lianna Vale to unveil her latest acquisition…..or at least make a statement.
She does both.
She walks in late…..poised, furious in white silk, dragging the painting behind her on a collapsible wheeled stand.
People turn. Phones rise.
She doesn't stop until she reaches the front of the gallery. She turns to the stunned curator and the staff.
"Return this."
The crowd gasps.
"Publicly."
A reporter asks, "Ms. Vale, is this a statement on your relationship with Kian Vale?"
Lianna looks into the camera. Her voice slices through the murmurs,
"I don't want expensive regrets."
"I want the truth. I want my son safe."
Cameras flash like thunder.
Back at the estate, the Aurum Luxe driver opens the painting's case to load it back….
Only to find a different item inside,
A black envelope.
Inside,
A photo of Henry Vale…
Standing beside a boy no one recognizes.
Smiling.
And written in red:
"He's coming home."
—
The city can't stop talking.
LIANNA VALE RETURNS $3M GIFT FROM EX...PUBLIC REJECTION OR POWER PLAY?
THE VALE FAMILY: UNRAVELING ROYALTY
WHO IS THE WOMAN WHO SEES THE TRUTH?
The headlines swirl just like a storm as the night of the benefit gala arrives.
Set inside the Grand Royale, the ballroom gleams with crystal chandeliers, silver ice sculptures, and waiters dressed..
Symphony music hums beneath the clink of champagne flutes. The elite have come dressed for spectacle and war….politicians, investors, enemies in disguise.
Lianna glides through it all in a sculpted white satin gown that fits her just like defiance. Her hair is swept up in sharp waves. Her diamond earrings flicker .
The speech is halfway through—
"…to protect every child in this city, regardless of last name or legacy…"
—when the chandeliers tremble.
A door creaks open behind the main hall.
Whispers rise .
And then, Kian Vale walks in.
Tuxedo. Midnight-black.
Hands in his pockets.
Eyes only on her.
Gasps ripple through the crowd.
The pianist falters. The cellist stops.
Lianna freezes mid-sentence.
Her breath catches.
Her chest rises.
And for a split second…..she forgets how to speak.
He walks across the ballroom slowly, unhurried, as though he owns the ground beneath every step.
He takes the microphone from the podium.
The crowd watched him.
"Some of you know me as the Vale heir," he says, voice smooth but edged..
"Some of you know me as the villain."
"But I only care what she knows."
People whisper her name. Phones rise.
He turns to her fully. His voice dips.
"Lianna."
"I never stopped loving you."
Her spine straightens…..but her hand tightens around the podium.
His voice. That voice. It still ruins her.
And then he walks closer.
Too close.
She swore his face made her breath hitch and give up…..like it always did.
Without permission or apology, Kian drops the mic, lifts her chin…..and kisses her.
Hard. Full. Devastating.
The ballroom erupts.
Cameras flash just like gunfire.
Gasps. Applause. Outrage.
But Lianna—
She doesn't slap him.
She doesn't kiss back, either.
She just… stands there.
Trembling.
Caught between past and fury.
Between love and legacy.
Between everything he broke and everything she still wants.
In the back of the gala, a figure watches from shadows.
Black gloves. Burned jawline. An invitation badge that wasn't issued.
He watches Lianna tremble.
"You're not the only one who loves her, brother."
—-
By morning, the world has already chosen sides.
#ValeScandal
#GalaKiss
#LiannaVale?
Clips of the kiss flood the internet—
From every angle.
Slowed down. Zoomed in. Broken down just like it's national security footage.
"Look how she looks at him just before."
"Her hand twitches. That's not indifference."
"They never stopped loving each other. That's clear."
The market reacts just like a wounded animal.
Vale Corp stock dips 1.2%.
Lianna's charity partners begin quietly pulling out.
And outside her company headquarters—
Protesters arrive.
Signs just like daggers:
NO MORE VALE BLOOD MONEY
LOVE DOESN'T ERASE CRIME
WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON, LIANNA?
Inside the boardroom, Juno Thorne is a storm with perfect lipstick.
She slams her tablet down. Headlines scream across the screen.
"You're letting him make this about romance," Juno snaps. "When it's about survival."
Lianna just stands at the window.
Still. Back straight. Voice flat.
"I didn't kiss him back."
Juno stares. "You didn't stop him either."
Silence.
"You're smarter than this. You're stronger than this. Don't let him rebrand you as his."
Lianna doesn't reply.
——
That night—
The world is quiet again.
She sits in the dark with a glass of untouched wine, laptop open.
The kiss plays on loop.
Camera flashes. His hand on her cheek.
Her lashes fluttering.
His mouth. Her almost—
She pauses the screen.
Her lips were parted. Her eyes closed just enough. Her body had leaned in, not away.
A breath escapes her. Shaky. Involuntary.
She shuts the laptop. Hard.
Then buries her face in her hands.
Outside, a shadow moves across her balcony.
Someone watching.
Someone waiting.
Not Kian.
Not the press.
Something else.