Chapter 10
Alexander Val did not flinch, nor did he look surprised. He simply stopped a few paces away from Julian, his dark wool coat draped over his broad shoulders, his hands resting naturally at his sides. He looked past Julian, his gaze locking directly onto Elena’s eyes, searching for doubt, anger, or betrayal.
"You didn't open the folder," Val noted, his voice remarkably calm given the magnitude of the accusation hanging in the damp air of the terminal.
"I didn't need to," Elena replied, her voice steady as she took a step toward Val. "Because the question isn't whether the papers inside are real. The question is what you intend to do with them now that they've surfaced."
Julian looked between them, sudden panic washing over his ruined face. "Wait—you already knew? You knew the waterfront district belonged to her family?"
"I knew," Val said simply, never breaking eye contact with Elena. He turned his attention back to Julian. "My father was a ruthless man, Julian. He built this holding company through corporate warfare, broken contracts, and predatory acquisitions. When I took over the company ten years ago, my first directive was to audit every single legacy asset in our portfolio. I found the file on Elena’s family three years ago."
Elena felt a cold shiver run down her spine. "Three years ago? And you didn't say anything? You watched me work as a waitress in your family's restaurant while you knew your father destroyed my life?"
"I didn't know where you were," Val corrected sharply, a rare note of raw emotion cracking through his controlled exterior. For the first time, his composure slipped, revealing the deep, genuine remorse beneath. "When I finally tracked your family down, you were working two jobs to keep your mother out of the public ward. I didn't want to approach you with charity or guilt. I wanted to earn the right to return what was stolen."
Julian laughed frantically, waving the manila folder in the air. "Oh, spare us the noble redemption arc! You kept her close so she wouldn't sue! You bought her silence with hospital bills and architectural promotions!"
"Shut up, Julian," Val said, his voice dropping to a lethal growl. He signaled his bodyguard, who stepped forward and effortlessly snatched the manila folder from Julian’s grip with a single, fluid motion, handing it directly to Elena.
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Elena clutched the frayed folder against her chest. The paper was rough against her fingers, bearing the tangible weight of her family's lost history. She looked at Alexander Val—not as her savior, not as her boss, but as a man burdened by the sins of the father he never respected.
"Handing me a folder doesn't fix what happened, Alexander," Elena said quietly, her voice echoing off the vaulted marble ceiling. "Restitution isn't a gift. It's a reconstruction."
