Chapter 23 – The Home That Never Was
The gate clicked behind her like the closing of a prison cell.
Valerie stepped into the estate with slow, deliberate steps. The same polished marble tiles. The same towering windows. The same suffocating silence. Only this time, her heart was heavier, her body still sore in places that no medicine could reach. The shadows under her eyes were hidden by a scarf wrapped tightly across her hair, and her long coat masked the faint traces of healing wounds.
She hadn't expected a warm welcome.
But even still, she flinched when she opened the door and saw her stepmother—immaculate in a rose-colored blouse and pearls—waiting for her in the hallway with arms folded.
"You've finally returned," the woman said coldly. "How convenient."
Before Valerie could speak, Sophia's voice sliced through the air.
"You just vanished!" Sophia descended the stairs, anger tightening every step. "Where the hell have you been? You think you can run off and come back like nothing happened?!"
Valerie remained still, her hand tightening on the strap of her duffel bag.
"I don't owe you answers," she replied calmly, though her voice was hoarse.
Sophia scoffed, storming forward. "You think you're untouchable now? Did you sleep with someone to cover your mess? Or are you going to lie and say nothing happened that night?"
Valerie's jaw twitched, but she said nothing.
Her stepmother stepped in then, eyes sharp. "Don't play the innocent. Sophia told us everything. The deal she got. The pill you gave her. And you—disappearing afterward like a coward."
Sophia flung her arms wide. "So talk! Who was it? That night—you walked into that room. I know you met someone. Who was he?"
Silence.
"You think you can keep it to yourself?" Sophia's voice rose, shrill with desperation. "You were the reason he helped me! You—you used yourself to manipulate him. Just admit it!"
Valerie inhaled deeply. "I didn't manipulate anyone."
"Then what did you do?" her stepmother snapped. "You're not even denying it. And don't give us that ridiculous excuse again. You've always been a burden on this family."
Sophia stepped closer, her face inches from Valerie's. "Tell me his name. What did you do to King Albanian?"
Valerie blinked.
Once.
Then stepped back.
"Nothing"
Her stepmother slapped her.
The sound echoed through the foyer.
Valerie didn't move. Her face stung, but she'd known worse pain. Much worse.
"You ungrateful girl," her stepmother hissed. "After everything this family has done for you, you walk around like a saint."
Valerie's voice came softer this time. "I didn't ask for anything."
"And yet you keep showing up!" Sophia screamed. "Every time I finally get what I want, you reappear like a damn curse. If you had any shame at all, you'd disappear again and never come back!"
Valerie closed her eyes for a brief moment.
It wasn't just the anger. It was the old hurt behind their words. The relentless cycle of being the outsider. The daughter of the first wife. The reminder of a truth none of them could erase.
"I'm only here for a few days," she said at last, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'll be gone soon."
"You better be," her stepmother said icily.
Sophia turned away with a bitter laugh. "Unbelievable. You think you're something special now, don't you? Just wait. I'll find out what happened that night. And when I do—don't expect mercy."
Valerie didn't reply.
She just picked up her bag again, walked past them both, and climbed the stairs—back to the room that never truly felt like hers.
Her footsteps were soft, but the weight of the walls closed in like they always had. As she shut the door behind her and locked it, the silence returned. Except this time, it wasn't comforting.
It was suffocating.
Absolutely. Here's a detailed, emotionally charged continuation for Chapter 23 from Valerie's POV, capturing her return to the Hudson household—and the immediate confrontation with Sophia and her stepmother.
---
Chapter 23 – The Home That Never Was
The gate clicked behind her like the closing of a prison cell.
Valerie stepped into the estate with slow, deliberate steps. The same polished marble tiles. The same towering windows. The same suffocating silence. Only this time, her heart was heavier, her body still sore in places that no medicine could reach. The shadows under her eyes were hidden by a scarf wrapped tightly across her hair, and her long coat masked the faint traces of healing wounds.
She hadn't expected a warm welcome.
But even still, she flinched when she opened the door and saw her stepmother—immaculate in a rose-colored blouse and pearls—waiting for her in the hallway with arms folded.
"You've finally returned," the woman said coldly. "How convenient."
Before Valerie could speak, Sophia's voice sliced through the air.
"You just vanished!" Sophia descended the stairs, anger tightening every step. "Where the hell have you been? You think you can run off and come back like nothing happened?!"
Valerie remained still, her hand tightening on the strap of her duffel bag.
"I don't owe you answers," she replied calmly, though her voice was hoarse.
Sophia scoffed, storming forward. "You think you're untouchable now? Did you sleep with someone to cover your mess? Or are you going to lie and say nothing happened that night?"
Valerie's jaw twitched, but she said nothing.
Her stepmother stepped in then, eyes sharp. "Don't play the innocent. Sophia told us everything. The deal she got. The pill you gave her. And you—disappearing afterward like a coward."
Sophia flung her arms wide. "So talk! Who was it? That night—you walked into that room. I know you met someone. Who was he?"
Silence.
"You think you can keep it to yourself?" Sophia's voice rose, shrill with desperation. "You were the reason he helped me! You—you used yourself to manipulate him. Just admit it!"
Valerie inhaled deeply. "I didn't manipulate anyone."
"Then what did you do?" her stepmother snapped. "You're not even denying it. And don't give us that ridiculous excuse again. You've always been a burden on this family."
Sophia stepped closer, her face inches from Valerie's. "Tell me his name. What did you do to King Albanian?"
Valerie blinked.
Once.
Then stepped back.
"Nothing I did was for your sake."
Her stepmother slapped her.
The sound echoed through the foyer.
Valerie didn't move. Her face stung, but she'd known worse pain. Much worse.
"You ungrateful girl," her stepmother hissed. "After everything this family has done for you, you walk around like a saint."
Valerie's voice came softer this time. "I didn't ask for anything."
"And yet you keep showing up!" Sophia screamed. "Every time I finally get what I want, you reappear like a damn curse. If you had any shame at all, you'd disappear again and never come back!"
Valerie closed her eyes for a brief moment.
It wasn't just the anger. It was the old hurt behind their words. The relentless cycle of being the outsider. The daughter of the first wife. The reminder of a truth none of them could erase.
"I'm only here for a few days," she said at last, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'll be gone soon."
"You better be," her stepmother said icily.
Sophia turned away with a bitter laugh. "Unbelievable. You think you're something special now, don't you? Just wait. I'll find out what happened that night. And when I do—don't expect mercy."
Valerie didn't reply.
She just picked up her bag again, walked past them both, and climbed the stairs—back to the room that never truly felt like hers.
Her footsteps were soft, but the weight of the walls closed in like they always had. As she shut the door behind her and locked it, the silence returned. Except this time, it wasn't comforting.
It was suffocating.
--
The fire crackled low in the hearth of the study.
King sat at his desk, a glass of untouched whiskey beside him, the rim fogged with the passing hours. The leather chair creaked as he leaned back, sharp eyes fixed on the flames. Despite the warmth, a coldness rooted deep in his bones refused to thaw.
She was gone.
And yet, everywhere he looked—her presence lingered. In the way the wind shifted, in the silence between breaths. In the impossible miracle of what she had awakened inside him.
Wayne entered quietly, a file tucked under his arm.
"I have the initial results," he said.
King turned slightly, nodding once. "Sit."
Wayne sat opposite him and opened the file. "We filtered through every woman named Valerie within the vicinity and surrounding cities. Used surveillance from the hotel the night you met her. Tracked the scent from the suite as best we could. Cross-referenced medical data, social security info, anything flagged under 'Valerie.'"
"And?" King asked, voice low.
"Nothing felt like her." Wayne rubbed his temple. "There were women with similar builds, some who used the same brand of calming oils or perfumes—but none of them matched your description."
King looked away, his jaw tightening. "Then she erased herself."
"Maybe," Wayne murmured. "But there was something."
King's gaze sharpened.
Wayne flipped to the last page of the report. "One of our people trailed a conversation inside a pharmaceutical distributor. He overheard talk about a rare calming pill, one that only came from a defunct formula not available on the market anymore."
King's head tilted. "The same formula?"
Wayne nodded. "We believe so. There's only one person who's ever brought that pill into the public light recently. Sophia Hudson."
Silence.
Wayne continued carefully. "She mentioned it during her negotiation with one of your subsidiaries. She claimed it helped her calm herself before making the pitch. It matched the scent from your hotel suite."
King stilled.
Sophia.
He'd dismissed her before—charming on the surface, predictable beneath it. Yet now she stood at the edge of a revelation. "You're saying she used the same calming pill... the one from my suite?"
"Yes," Wayne confirmed. "And she has a sister. Valerie Hudson."
The room contracted around him.
Valerie.
A name he hadn't known—but had always known.
He rose slowly from his seat, the file still open as his mind rearranged everything. Sophia. The calming pill. The girl who vanished without a trace.
"Sophia," he murmured, more to himself than Wayne. "Bring her here now."
---
The grand salon of King's city estate was dimly lit, the windows drawn, the scent of firewood faint beneath the coldness in the room. Sophia Hudson entered with the elegance of a woman who believed the world was built to adore her.
She found King standing at the far end, facing the fireplace with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a half-empty glass. He didn't greet her. He didn't turn.
Sophia cleared her throat delicately. "You called for me?" she asked with a smile, her voice light and teasing. "I knew you'd eventually come around."
King's eyes shifted slightly toward her, unreadable.
"Sit," he said simply.
Something in his tone made her pause. Still, she obeyed, lowering herself onto the velvet settee across from him.
King turned and came to stand before her, his frame casting a long shadow in the low light. "At our last meeting," he said, "you mentioned taking a calming pill before your pitch."
Sophia's smile widened. "Oh, that? Yes! Miracle stuff. I whipped it up myself actually—bit of a hidden talent of mine."
King's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "You made it?"
"Yes," she said quickly, flicking a strand of hair behind her shoulder. "I studied herbs for a while. I like to experiment. That formula was mine, down to the ratio. Why? Do you need some?"
His stare was unreadable. "You made it," he repeated slowly.
Sophia giggled, flattered by his attention. "Yes! Don't look so surprised. I'm full of little secrets. If you need help sleeping—or calming your nerves—I can make a fresh batch for you personally."
King let the silence draw out, studying her. "i will need one, Tell me about your sister."
The question caught her off-guard. "Valerie?"
He didn't respond.
Sophia laughed tightly. "She's... a problem child. Always has been. Standoffish. Never appreciated what the Hudson name gave her."
She leaned in slightly. "Honestly, I don't know what kind of karma my mother inherited giving birth to that one. Valerie's always been a burden. Quiet, rude, ungrateful. She only ever eats from our table. Never contributes. She walks around like she's better than all of us, but she's just a leech."
King didn't speak. His features remained still—too still.
Sophia took his silence as approval and continued, her tone becoming sharper, almost mean-spirited. "My mother says she must've been cursed at birth. Maybe she was. I mean, who disappears for weeks and leaves no message, no sense of duty? And when she's around, she's just... cold. Stubborn. Thinks she's better than everyone because she reads a few books and dabbles in strange things. Honestly, she should've been thrown out years ago."
A long pause.
King set his glass down, the sound louder than expected in the quiet room.
Sophia, smug, crossed her legs and tilted her head. "Why the sudden curiosity? Don't tell me she left an impression on you?"
King's expression was unreadable. "She might've."
Sophia laughed, sharp and dismissive. "Trust me, if you met her, you'd forget her in two minutes. Valerie has nothing on the women in your world. Or mine."
He walked away without another word.
Behind him, Sophia frowned, unsure if she had won or lost the conversation.
She didn't know the truth had just begun to unravel—and that her own words had sealed the certainty of King's growing obsession with the sister she despised.