One Night in Valeria - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

The committee hall was grand, imposing all white marble floors, gold-trimmed panels, and a chandelier that sparkled like it belonged to royalty. But beneath the glamour, the room reeked of politics. Of secrets.
Jessica stood just inside the doorway, her heels clicking sharply as she walked across the room. Her dark blue suit was structured, unyielding. Not soft. Not apologetic.
Liam walked beside her, dressed in black on black a silent echo to her presence. Their alliance wasn’t a declaration. It was a quiet threat.
The members of the Conservatory’s Fashion Fund Committee turned as they entered, murmurs starting like polite thunder.
“Miss Hale,” one of the older women said, adjusting her pearls. “This meeting wasn’t scheduled”
Jessica cut in.
“I’m aware. But it’s necessary.”
She stepped forward, placing a thick folder on the glass table. Inside were screenshots, dated sketches, Alaric’s signature, financial logs linking A.D. Atelier to August Hale — everything they’d gathered.
Liam added another folder, this one stamped with a seal from the Velaria Financial Authority.
One of the men picked it up, skimming the contents with narrowing eyes.
“This is a serious accusation,” he said.
“It’s not an accusation,” Jessica replied calmly. “It’s a fact.”
She looked directly at the committee chairwoman. “Your Midwinter Showcase is about to spotlight a brand built on stolen work. My mother’s work. My name. My legacy.”
“And who exactly is behind this… Atelier?” someone asked, voice uncertain.
“August Hale,” Liam answered, standing straighter. “Operating under multiple false entities. Selling designs lifted from Klara Hale’s lost archives.”
A silence fell.
Then the older woman with the pearls leaned forward. “That name hasn’t been spoken in this room in thirty years.”
“Exactly,” Jessica said. “He disappeared after accusing Klara of fraud. He’s been waiting for the right moment to return. And now, he’s using her death and my rise to finish what he started.”
Someone else at the table shifted uncomfortably. “This puts the Conservatory at risk. The showcase... the sponsorships...”
Jessica narrowed her eyes. “The risk isn’t me. It’s you turning a blind eye.”
Another silence. This one deeper. Tighter.
Then the chairwoman straightened her back. “We’ll need time to investigate.”
“You have three days,” Jessica said. “Or I’ll take this to the press myself.”
Gasps flared around the table, but Jessica didn’t flinch. Not this time.
Liam put a hand gently at her back not guiding, not controlling. Just... steadying.
She turned toward the exit.
But just before leaving, she paused and looked back.
“I was raised in the shadows of this city,” she said. “But I don’t belong there anymore. And neither did my mother.”
Then she walked out.
And this time, no one stopped her.
Outside the building, Jessica stood still for a moment, letting the cold wind brush against her cheeks.
Liam stepped beside her.
“You didn’t flinch,” he said.
“I couldn’t afford to.”
A pause.
Then: “You were brilliant in there.”
She didn’t answer right away. Just turned to him and asked softly:
“Why are you still helping me?”
He looked at her then — eyes raw, honest, tired.
“Because I was too late to save your mother.”
A sharp inhale caught in her throat.
“And I won’t be too late again.”