CHAPTER 208: FALL OF VALTAIR [4]

Heavy boots struck the marble floor. The sound echoed through the manor’s corridors.

Count Casten Valtair moved with purpose. Dark hair with grey threading caught the lamplight as he passed. His jaw set tight. Grey eyes stormy with barely contained frustration.

Beside him, his aide struggled to keep pace. Clutching a ledger against his chest. Papers threatening to spill with each hurried step.

"Seventeen shipments delayed in the eastern district alone, my lord. And the western routes—"

"I can read numbers, Mark." Valtair’s voice came clipped. Sharp. "What I want to know is why?"

"We’re investigating, my lord. It appears—"

"It appears?" Valtair stopped. Turned. His eyes fixed on the aide with intensity that made the man flinch. "I don’t pay you for appears. I pay you for answers."

"Y-yes, my lord. Of course." the aide swallowed hard. "The initial reports suggest... coordinated interference. Multiple small disruptions that—"

"Someone’s sabotaging us."

"It’s possible, my lord. Though we haven’t identified—"

"Then identify them!" The words cracked like a whip. "Go. Find out what’s happening. Who’s behind this. And do it fast. I want names. Connections. Evidence."

His hand sliced through the air. Dismissive. Final.

"Before the gathering tomorrow night. Understand?"

"Yes, my lord. Immediately."

Marcus bowed. Scurried away down the corridor. His footsteps fading quickly.

Leaving Valtair standing there. Alone in the hallway.

His jaw clenched. Unclenched. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

Revenue bleeding out. Partners questioning his reliability. Whispers starting among the other noble houses.

Who would dare!

His thoughts spiraled. Anger simmering beneath the surface. Ready to explode.

Then—

Soft footsteps appeared.

Arms wrapped around him from the side. Gentle. Familiar.

The scent of jasmine perfume.

"Casten."

The voice carried warmth. Concern underneath.

Countess Vivienne Valtair.

His wife.

She pressed against his side. Her cheek resting against his shoulder. Dark auburn hair falling in waves down her back.

"You’re going to pace a hole through the floor if you keep this up."

Some of the tension bled from his shoulders. Just slightly.

His hand came up. Covered hers where it rested on his chest.

"The networks are falling apart, Viv." His voice came quieter now. Tired. "Everything I’ve built. Is just... crumbling."

"I know." She squeezed gently. "Mark will find answers. He always does."

"And if he doesn’t? If this continues?"

"Then we adapt. Like we always have." Her tone stayed steady. "You’ve weathered worse storms, my love."

He wanted to believe that. Tried to.

But something about this felt different. More deliberate. More... personal.

Vivienne pulled back slightly. Enough to look up at his face.

"The gathering is tomorrow night." She said it softly. Redirecting his thoughts. "The Five Houses will be there, you’re still planning to attend?"

"I have to." His eyes met hers. "Can’t show weakness. Not now. The others will be watching. Looking for cracks."

"Then we go." Her hand came up. Cupped his cheek. "And we remind everyone why House Valtair is not to be underestimated."

Despite everything, his lips twitched. Almost a smile.

"You really are the strategic one, huh?"

"I married you, didn’t I? Had to learn eventually. Besides, someone needs to keep your head on straight when you’re ready to burn the world down."

He caught her hand. Brought it to his lips. Kissed her knuckles gently.

"What would I do without you?"

"Probably declare war on half the kingdom by now."

This time he did smile.

She leaned into him again. Let him hold her for a moment longer.

The manor settled around them. Quiet except for distant servant movements. The crackle of lamps.

"We’ll figure this out." Vivienne murmured against his chest. "Together. Like always."

"Together." He echoed.

"And don’t forget..." She looked at him, eyes glinting. "We have them, backing us."

Valtair smirked and nodded.

"Yeah... nothing to worry about."

Whoever is planning this...

His jaw tightened again.

Once I found them!

He brought his hand up, a vicious black mark appeared on his palm, and began glowing.

They’ll wish they’d never crossed paths with me.

He clenched his fist.

After few minutes, they separated.

She kissed his cheek gently. Then guided him toward the study.

"Rest, dear. You need it." Her voice stayed soft. Caring. "Tomorrow will be demanding."

He nodded. Allowed himself to be led. Exhaustion finally catching up with the anger.

The door closed behind him.

Vivienne stood there for a moment. Then she turned. Moved down the corridor in the opposite direction.

Away from the main halls. Toward the estate’s older wing.

Her footsteps stayed measured. Graceful. Nothing hurried.

She reached a corner. Turned down a narrower passage.

The door at the end was plain. Storage or unused quarters.

She pushed it open. Stepped inside.

Closed it behind her with a soft click.

The room beyond was dim. Single lamp burning low. Casting long shadows.

Then...

"Kya!" She yelp escaped as a strong hand grabbed her arm. Spun her around and pinned her against the wall.

One hand caught behind her. Held firm. The other pressed beside her head. Caging her in.

A tall road-shouldered man who looked to be in his early thirties loomed over her. He was handsome, but in rough kind of way, the kind of looks that came from years of training and discipline rather than noble breeding.

Captain of House Valtair’s guard.

"Stop shouting." His dark eyes held hers.

"You want to make others hear you?" His

Vivienne struggled at first, then relaxed. Her lips curved.

"No one’s here in this quarter." Her voice dropped to match his. Breathy. Inviting. "You can make me regret, if you want..."

His jaw clenched, grip tightened on her wrist behind her back.

She made a small sound. Half gasp, half laugh.

He leaned closer. His face inches from hers.

She didn’t pull away. Just watched him with those knowing eyes.

Then his mouth crashed against hers.

She kissed him back immediately. Despite being pinned. Despite the position. Her free hand came up, grabbed his collar. Pulled him closer.

A string of saliva hung between them as they pulled back. She was breathless, cheeks burning red.

Then pressed her against the wall, his grim firm on her head.

"I’ll make you scream my name whole night." He whispered, breath hot against her skin. Sending shivers down her spine.

"Quite bold—"

She topped mid-sentence as his hand unbuckled his pants, letting his shaft hang out in the air.

But then he leaned again and kissed her lips. And whispered at his mouth.

"Beg for it."

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