One Night in Valeria - Chapter 23: Chapter 23
You are reading One Night in Valeria, Chapter 23: Chapter 23. Read more chapters of One Night in Valeria.
The silence of the studio wasn’t empty. It was full.
Full of memories that hadn’t been hers until recently.
Full of voices — soft, distant, unfinished.
Klara’s laugh. The sound of scissors gliding through fabric. The hush that followed heartbreak.
Jessica stood in the middle of it all, barefoot on the cold floor, wrapped in the quiet hum of her thoughts. Her coat lay on the floor beside her, the black envelope resting atop it like a warning.
“I became you.”
That line that cruel, twisted echo had followed her all the way from Eastbridge. She’d read it again on the train ride back. Again when she unlocked her door. Again just before she dimmed the lights and pulled out her sketchpad.
And now… she was sketching without stopping. Hands moving faster than her breath.
Each line was sharper than the last. Harsher.
She tore through one sheet, then another. And another.
Until finally her hands slowed. The storm inside her softened.
She drew a woman.
Not Klara. Not herself.
But something between them. Something more.
The figure wore a sleeveless gown high collar, low back, crimson with black-thread embroidery flowers breaking apart like shrapnel from the waist down.
Powerful. Disturbed. Unapologetically bold.
She titled it:
“Inheritance.”
The sound of her pencil scratching against paper was the only noise in the room.
Jessica didn’t cry. She hadn’t for years. She didn’t even feel close to tears.
She felt clear.
Whoever was behind A.D. Atelier… they didn’t just want her gone. They wanted her erased.
But she’d seen now what that cost Klara.
And she wouldn’t let them rewrite the story.
When the piece was finished, she pinned it to her mood board. It stood out instantly — more brutal than anything she’d ever designed before. Less commercial, less wearable.
But it was hers.
And for the first time in weeks, she saw herself in her work again.
Not a pawn.
Not a scandal.
But a designer.
A survivor.
A Hale.
Far outside, the city lights flickered, indifferent to the battles fought inside one small studio.
But Jessica stood taller now.
Still alone.
But not lost.
Not anymore.
Full of memories that hadn’t been hers until recently.
Full of voices — soft, distant, unfinished.
Klara’s laugh. The sound of scissors gliding through fabric. The hush that followed heartbreak.
Jessica stood in the middle of it all, barefoot on the cold floor, wrapped in the quiet hum of her thoughts. Her coat lay on the floor beside her, the black envelope resting atop it like a warning.
“I became you.”
That line that cruel, twisted echo had followed her all the way from Eastbridge. She’d read it again on the train ride back. Again when she unlocked her door. Again just before she dimmed the lights and pulled out her sketchpad.
And now… she was sketching without stopping. Hands moving faster than her breath.
Each line was sharper than the last. Harsher.
She tore through one sheet, then another. And another.
Until finally her hands slowed. The storm inside her softened.
She drew a woman.
Not Klara. Not herself.
But something between them. Something more.
The figure wore a sleeveless gown high collar, low back, crimson with black-thread embroidery flowers breaking apart like shrapnel from the waist down.
Powerful. Disturbed. Unapologetically bold.
She titled it:
“Inheritance.”
The sound of her pencil scratching against paper was the only noise in the room.
Jessica didn’t cry. She hadn’t for years. She didn’t even feel close to tears.
She felt clear.
Whoever was behind A.D. Atelier… they didn’t just want her gone. They wanted her erased.
But she’d seen now what that cost Klara.
And she wouldn’t let them rewrite the story.
When the piece was finished, she pinned it to her mood board. It stood out instantly — more brutal than anything she’d ever designed before. Less commercial, less wearable.
But it was hers.
And for the first time in weeks, she saw herself in her work again.
Not a pawn.
Not a scandal.
But a designer.
A survivor.
A Hale.
Far outside, the city lights flickered, indifferent to the battles fought inside one small studio.
But Jessica stood taller now.
Still alone.
But not lost.
Not anymore.
End of One Night in Valeria Chapter 23. Continue reading Chapter 24 or return to One Night in Valeria book page.