One Night in Valeria - Chapter 51: Chapter 51
You are reading One Night in Valeria, Chapter 51: Chapter 51. Read more chapters of One Night in Valeria.
Morning sunlight spilled across the studio floor, catching the edge of the sketchboard and Liam’s bare shoulders as he buttoned his shirt. Jessica emerged from the back room wrapped in his robe, hair tousled, skin still flushed from the night before.
But the man in the studio’s front office pulled her completely back to reality.
Rene Andor stood tall and calm, with a thin leather folder under his arm. His presence radiated both gravity and something deeply personal.
“You knew my mother,” Jessica said carefully.
“I was more than her lawyer,” Rene said. “I was one of the last people she trusted when the Conservatory turned against her. She left me instructions. To deliver this only when you reclaimed your name… on your terms.”
He handed over the folder.
Her fingers hesitated on the clasp.
“What’s in it?” she asked.
“Her will. The real one,” Rene said. “And her final sketch. One she never showed the world.”
They gathered at the center table—Jessica, Liam, Celeste, and Rene.
The first page was handwritten in Klara’s signature calligraphy.
> “To my daughter, Jessica Hale: I leave everything I once created in silence now yours to shout.”
My personal collection is to be released only under her name.
All Hale royalties are to be redirected into a private trust for her independent fashion house free from August Hale, from the Conservatory, and from the shadow of my disappearance.
And lastly… the dress. Jessica looked up. “What dress?”
Rene unfolded the final page.
The sketch was like nothing she’d ever seen.
Klara’s lines, but looser. Edges blurred, chaotic. Fabric drawn like flame, bodice wrapped in handwritten notes from Klara’s old journals. The gown was stitched not with thread, but with words.
> Pain is an art.
You were never broken you were blooming.
Truth wears red.
It was titled simply:
> “Daughter.”
Jessica stared at it, breath catching.
“This… this was never meant for a runway,” she whispered. “This was meant for… me.”
Rene nodded. “She called it your crown. She said, one day, the world would try to define you and this would remind them who you really are.”
Liam was silent beside her.
Until finally: “You have to show it, Jessica. The world deserves to see it. But more than that… you deserve to wear it.”
And as Jessica traced the sketch with trembling fingers, she knew something deep in her bones:
Klara hadn’t just left her a legacy.
She had left her a revolution.
But the man in the studio’s front office pulled her completely back to reality.
Rene Andor stood tall and calm, with a thin leather folder under his arm. His presence radiated both gravity and something deeply personal.
“You knew my mother,” Jessica said carefully.
“I was more than her lawyer,” Rene said. “I was one of the last people she trusted when the Conservatory turned against her. She left me instructions. To deliver this only when you reclaimed your name… on your terms.”
He handed over the folder.
Her fingers hesitated on the clasp.
“What’s in it?” she asked.
“Her will. The real one,” Rene said. “And her final sketch. One she never showed the world.”
They gathered at the center table—Jessica, Liam, Celeste, and Rene.
The first page was handwritten in Klara’s signature calligraphy.
> “To my daughter, Jessica Hale: I leave everything I once created in silence now yours to shout.”
My personal collection is to be released only under her name.
All Hale royalties are to be redirected into a private trust for her independent fashion house free from August Hale, from the Conservatory, and from the shadow of my disappearance.
And lastly… the dress. Jessica looked up. “What dress?”
Rene unfolded the final page.
The sketch was like nothing she’d ever seen.
Klara’s lines, but looser. Edges blurred, chaotic. Fabric drawn like flame, bodice wrapped in handwritten notes from Klara’s old journals. The gown was stitched not with thread, but with words.
> Pain is an art.
You were never broken you were blooming.
Truth wears red.
It was titled simply:
> “Daughter.”
Jessica stared at it, breath catching.
“This… this was never meant for a runway,” she whispered. “This was meant for… me.”
Rene nodded. “She called it your crown. She said, one day, the world would try to define you and this would remind them who you really are.”
Liam was silent beside her.
Until finally: “You have to show it, Jessica. The world deserves to see it. But more than that… you deserve to wear it.”
And as Jessica traced the sketch with trembling fingers, she knew something deep in her bones:
Klara hadn’t just left her a legacy.
She had left her a revolution.
End of One Night in Valeria Chapter 51. Continue reading Chapter 52 or return to One Night in Valeria book page.