Location: Vale Estate, Nevaris' Private Lounge
A week had passed since Celestine Vale's departure, yet the echoes of that dinner still lingered in Freya's mind. The Vale estate had returned to its usual stillness, a quiet luxury that seemed to breathe differently in the absence of its matriarch. But even with Celestine gone, her presence remained, woven into the very fabric of the place.
Freya hadn't expected to think about her so much, but Celestine was hard to forget.
That night had been a battle unlike any other—one Nevaris had clearly lost. She had watched the world's youngest trillionaire, the Demon of Contracts, be completely outmaneuvered at his own dinner table. It had been equal parts amusing and unsettling. Celestine hadn't just challenged Nevaris on his romantic life; she had cracked open something deeper, something raw.
And now, a week later, he had reverted to his usual nonsense as if nothing had happened.
Nevaris lounged on a sleek leather couch in his private lounge, scrolling through his phone with one hand and lazily tossing chips into his mouth with the other. Dressed in his usual undone dress shirt and expensive yet carelessly worn loungewear, he looked every bit the picture of a man who had abandoned all responsibilities—at least temporarily.
Freya stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out over the sprawling estate. The city lights twinkled in the distance, but out here, in the Vale family's isolated world, everything was eerily still.
She spoke without turning.
"Your mother mentioned your legacy," she said, her voice casual yet pointed. "But she didn't mention your father."
The crunch of a chip halted mid-bite.
A long pause stretched between them before Nevaris finally exhaled.
"My father," he muttered, setting his phone down. "Now that is a story."
Freya turned, arching a brow. "I have time."
Nevaris leaned back, rubbing his temple as if debating how much to say. Then, with a wry smile, he began.
"My father… is different from my mother," he admitted. "Where my mother is cold, terrifying, and makes me question my existence, my father is… well, he's serious but weak at the same time."
Freya frowned slightly. "Weak how?"
Nevaris scoffed. "Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. The man just exists in a perpetual state of exhaustion. The only reason people ever respected him was because he married her."
That answer wasn't what she expected.
"So," Freya mused, "your mother ran everything?"
Nevaris let out a short laugh. "Oh, she didn't just run things—she dominated them. My father was supposed to be the heir to Vale Corporation. But he wasn't… built for it."
Freya sat down across from him, intrigued. "What do you mean?"
Nevaris swirled the wine in his glass, staring at it for a moment before answering.
"He hesitated. He compromised. He wanted to be fair."
Freya tilted her head. "And that was bad?"
Nevaris smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "In this world? Being fair is just another way of telling people you're weak."
There was no arrogance in his voice, just cold certainty.
Freya had seen enough of the business world to know he wasn't exaggerating.
"What happened to your grandfather?" she asked after a moment.
Nevaris' grip on his glass tightened slightly.
"The old man never truly retired. He ran the company from the shadows, making sure my father didn't ruin everything. But when I was eighteen, he got sick. Terminally."
His golden eyes darkened as he continued.
"And in his infinite wisdom, he looked at my father and said—"
Nevaris dropped his voice into a deep, rasping imitation:
"'My son is a disappointment. I will entrust everything… to my grandson instead.'"
Freya's breath hitched slightly.
"He bypassed your father?"
Nevaris' smile was bitter. "Completely. He took one look at me—an eighteen-year-old kid—and decided I had a better shot at running a trillion-dollar empire than my own father."
Freya sat back, absorbing that. "That's… brutal."
Nevaris gave a humorless chuckle. "Oh, it gets worse. My father didn't even fight it. He just accepted it. No anger. No resentment. Just this quiet… defeat."
That, more than anything, unsettled Freya.
She had expected rebellion. A power struggle. But quiet surrender?
"Where is he now?" she asked, carefully.
Nevaris waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, still alive. He just… didn't come with my mother."
Freya blinked.
"…What?"
"Yeah," Nevaris said, smirking slightly at her reaction. "He's probably in some villa somewhere, reading philosophy books and contemplating his life choices."
Freya let out a slow breath. "You made it sound like he died."
Nevaris grinned. "Did I? Or did you assume?"
Freya groaned. "You are insufferable."
Nevaris placed a hand on his chest. "Why, thank you."
Freya rolled her eyes. But before she could change the subject, she noticed a rare expression on his face—one she couldn't quite place.
"And your grandfather?" she asked, softer now. "What kind of man was he?"
Nevaris' smirk faded.
He looked away, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.
"A warlord," he finally said. "A corporate predator. The kind of man who looked at people and saw numbers first. He once told me, 'Business is war. And war is won by those who don't hesitate to burn their enemies to the ground.'"
Freya nodded slowly. "That… tracks."
Nevaris exhaled, leaning back against the couch. "He trained me like a machine. While other kids were playing outside, I was memorizing mergers, analyzing contracts, learning how to dismantle competitors before they even saw the threat coming."
Freya remained quiet.
"Once," Nevaris continued, "when I was fourteen, I completely botched a strategy exercise he gave me. I expected him to tear me apart. Instead, he just looked at me and said, 'Well, boy, you're an idiot, but at least you're my idiot.'"
Freya blinked.
"That's… oddly sweet."
Nevaris snorted. "Sweet? He threw his cane at me right after saying that."
Freya burst into laughter. "You're kidding."
"I wish I was," Nevaris sighed dramatically. "The man had terrifying aim for someone who could barely walk."
Freya shook her head, still chuckling. "Your family is insane."
Nevaris stretched, yawning. "Oh, absolutely. But that's what makes us great."
Freya leaned back, watching him.
Celestine had been ruthless, but she had cared in her own way. And now, seeing how Nevaris spoke of his grandfather, she realized—
For all the brutality, for all the insanity, these people had loved him.
Just… in their own, deeply twisted way.
"So," Freya said lightly, "your mother is terrifying, your father is missing in action, and your grandfather was a corporate warlord."
Nevaris smirked. "Yup. And now you understand why I am the way I am."
Freya smiled, shaking her head. "Yeah. You had no chance of being normal."
Nevaris grinned. "And thank god for that."
The conversation faded into comfortable silence.
For once, the weight of legacy didn't feel so heavy.