The Vale Tower feels colder these days.
Security is doubled. Whispers trail through the marble halls ..
Henry Vale is unraveling.
He slams doors in board meetings.
Mutters names no one recognizes.
Accuses his most loyal executives of betrayal.
And when he fires two of them….abruptly, without explanation—
one is found dead in his home 48 hours later.
Gunshot wound. No forced entry.
Ruled a suicide.
But no one believes it.
The board is shaken.
Fear roils .
That's when they summon Kian.
⸻
He arrives
Charcoal-gray suit. No tie.
Flash drive in hand.
Henry is already yelling before he walks in,
"You don't answer my calls…..now you think you can walk in here like a prince?"
Kian doesn't blink.
He steps forward. Cool. Icy.
Dangerous in a way that doesn't shout….it whispers.
"You think I don't know what you did in Jakarta?"
A hush falls over the room.
Henry's voice wavers. "Watch your mouth—"
"No," Kian interrupts. Calm. Unshakable. "You watch yours. Because I know everything now. The port bombings. The smuggled funds. The missing trust tied to my name."
He tosses the flash drive onto the boardroom table.
"I'm not your son anymore."
Henry tries to rise—
His hand trembles against the chair.
"You arrogant—"
"I'm your replacement," Kian cuts in. "And it terrifies you."
Gasps. Audible. Real.
The board doesn't know who to fear more now—
The king… or the son who just dethroned him.
Kian turns on his heel and walks out.
Behind closed doors, Henry clutches the table—
Sweat on his brow.
And whispers to no one,
"He was never supposed to be the heir. Not him. Not the bastard."
—
The city glitters below, but Lianna doesn't see it.
She stands on her penthouse balcony, arms crossed tight against the chill.
Her silk gown whips around her legs ..
Her hair's undone, wild in the wind. Just like her thoughts.
She hears him before she turns.
Kian.
Leaning against the glass rail as if he belongs there.
As if he ever did.
"You kissed me in front of the world," she says, not a question….an accusation.
He exhales slowly.
"Because I needed them to know," he murmurs. "You're still mine."
She turns her face away, jaw trembling.
But he steps closer.
Not touching her.
Just close enough for the memory of his hands to ache in her skin.
"You'll come back to me," Kian whispers against the wind.
"You always do."
Lianna breathes in sharply, as if the words stung.
Then—
A scream.
Arin.
They both spin. Rush through the double doors. Down the hall.
"Arin!" Lianna shouts.
She throws open his bedroom door.
The little boy is shaking, buried beneath his covers.
"The window...he was at the window," Arin cries.
Lianna scoops him up, cradling him.
Kian sweeps toward the curtains…..flings them open.
No one.
Just night and sky and city lights.
Then Lianna notices it—
On the wall above Arin's toy chest…
A drawing.
Crayons. Jagged. Rushed.
Four stick figures.
One labeled Me…..Arin.
One Mama.
One Daddy.
And one more, much taller…
Drawn in harsh, thick black lines.
Red eyes.
A stitched mouth.
And a name written in shaky child's handwriting,
"The Man in My Window."
Lianna stares at the drawing as the wind outside howls louder.
And somewhere below, in shadows cast by the penthouse tower—
someone continued to watch.
—-
Lianna doesn't sleep that night.
She sits on the edge of Arin's bed, watching the slow, even rise of his chest as he dreams. One hand hovers protectively near his curls, but she doesn't touch him…..afraid to wake him, afraid to let go.
She steps into the living room as the sky begins to pale, her silk robe trailing behind her. Kian had kissed her goodbye before leaving. She almost confessed that she didn't want him to leave, he should just stay by her side and be with her….maybe forever. Juno Thorne is already there…..sleepless too….papers in one hand, black coffee in the other.
Lianna takes the cup, sips once, and murmurs,
"If the Vale men think legacy is power… let's remind them who shaped theirs."
By noon, the city's headlines explode.
THE FORGOTTEN MISTRESS: The Woman Who Raised a Vale
An exclusive exposé on the erased matriarch of the empire.
The article paints a haunting portrait,
A stunning young model in the 90s.
Henry Vale's long-term mistress.
Mother to his eldest, Kian Vale.
Quietly institutionalized after a "nervous collapse."
Removed from the public eye, her records sealed by court order.
It leaks photographs….grainy and yellowed….from a Paris runway, then later, a courtroom hallway. One image in particular, her cradling a young boy with Kian's same eyes.
The article hints at psychological abuse. Financial coercion. Rumors of electroshock therapy in an off-grid Swiss facility.
There's no direct accusation.
No signature on the leak.
But everyone knows.
Lianna Vale's silence becomes its own kind of thunder.
In the Vale estate, Henry reads the headline with trembling hands.
He grips his cane too tightly.
"She thinks she understands war," he growls.
"She doesn't know the half of it."
A vein pulses in his temple.
And across the city, Kian stares at the same article on his screen….his mouth tight, his jaw locked….reading about the woman who gave him life…. and the empire that erased her.
—-
Henry Vale explodes.
The boardroom table shudders under the crack of his cane. Executives flinch. A decanter of water tips. No one dares to speak.
His voice is thunder ,
"She wants war? Fine. Let her drown in it."
The walls seem to close in. One by one, board members avoid his gaze, pretending to scribble notes, swipe their screens, drink stale coffee.
Henry turns to Kian, eyes blazing.
"Disavow her. Now. Publicly. Or you lose your seat. Your shares. Your name."
Kian doesn't blink.
He stands at the far end of the room like a man already holding the detonator. Calm. Composed. Calculating.
"You used her," Kian says quietly.
"You turned her into a weapon, then tried to destroy her when she stopped aiming at your enemies."
"And now you want me to finish the job?"
Henry slams his cane again. "You are a Vale. You obey."
A beat of silence.
Then Kian steps forward and lays a document flat on the table.
DNA results.
Everyone leans in. Henry's name is there. Paternity confirmed.
But beneath that—
Legal Declaration of Name Change: Kian Vale — Kian Thorne.
A hush rips through the boardroom like shrapnel.
"You made me in your image," Kian says, voice steel.
"Now you'll die with it."
He turns. Walks out.
Leaves the board in ruins.
Out in the corridor, the doors swing shut behind him.
And someone is waiting.
Cassandra stands in the hallway, draped in a silk wrap, porcelain-pale, her lips just barely smiling.
She watches him pass.
Then speaks to one of Henry's aides without looking away,
"Tell Kian I need to talk to him."
"It's about the baby."
She rests a hand on her stomach.
Too gently.
Too precisely.
—-
Lianna gets the call just past midnight.
A whisper from a source buried deep in Vale Corp,
"Cassandra's pregnant."
The words hit her like icewater.
But something doesn't sit right.
Lianna remembers Cassandra at the gala….how she sipped champagne when she thought no one was watching, how her hand only touched her stomach when the cameras turned her way. Too theatrical. Too precise.
By morning, Juno has a tail on her.
The results are damning.
Conflicting clinic visits. A destroyed medical file from a private OB-GYN. An anonymous tip claiming Cassandra lost a pregnancy… two years ago. Quietly. Bloodily. Silently erased.
But it's too late.
Cassandra has already met Kian.
They sit across from each other in the private parlor of the Vale estate. The room smells of jasmine.
Cassandra is glowing….but not with innocence.
She sits with perfect posture, her fingers resting delicately on her lap, watching him just like a cat watches an injured bird.
"It's yours," she says softly. "I didn't want to tell you until I was sure."
Kian doesn't speak.
His eyes flicker….calculating, resisting, unraveling.
She leans forward slightly. Her voice dips into something more fragile.
"I'm not asking for anything. I just… needed you to know."
He stares at her. Long. Hollow. Suspicious.
"How far along?"
"Six weeks."
He leans back. Runs a hand over his face. A sigh claws its way out of his chest….deep, reluctant, broken.
Cassandra watches him quietly. She swears she wants to crawl across the space between them, press her lips to his neck, say everything he's ever needed to hear.
But she doesn't.
Because even she knows….the wrong lie at the wrong time can ruin the entire illusion.
That night, Lianna stands alone in her penthouse, staring at her phone.
A message from Kian blinks on the screen,
"If this is true… everything changes."
She doesn't reply.
She wishes she were stronger. Colder. Indifferent.
But the thought of another woman having his child makes her stomach turn.
Her throat burns with something ugly….not jealousy. Not grief.
Something more darker.
She deletes the message.
And still… her hand trembles.
At dawn, Juno bursts through the door.
Her voice is breathless. Urgent.
"Lianna… we found the real OB-GYN."
Lianna's heart skips.
Juno swallows hard.
"There was never a pregnancy."
"Then what's the story?"
Juno's voice drops,
"Cassandra's been visiting a psychiatric facility under a different name. Weekly. The file's sealed, but we got a name from the session logs."
She hands Lianna a paper.
Lianna reads it.
Freezes.
Session partner, Dr. James Vale.
Lianna's voice is barely audible.
"James…?"
Juno nods slowly.
"Kian's older brother. The Jackal."