CHAPTER 230: HOURS BEFORE HISTORY

Morning found me before my alarm did—warmth against my shoulder, soft breath on my skin, and fingers gently brushing through my hair like she was memorizing every strand.

"Wake up, husband..." Val whispered, her voice still wrapped in sleep but somehow sweeter because of it.

I blinked my eyes open, and the first thing I saw was her smile—small, soft, and exactly the kind that made early mornings feel less like a responsibility and more like a reward. She pressed a light kiss to my cheek, then another just a little closer to my lips.

"It’s D-Day," she murmured.

I let out a breath that was half-groan, half-laugh. "Don’t remind me."

She kissed me again—this time fully on the lips, a warm encouragement rather than anything heated—and pulled back with a determined little nod. "Unfortunately for you, I’m reminding you. Up. You’ve got a contract to win."

She slid out of bed before I could argue, moving toward the wardrobe with that unhurried grace she had even when she was exhausted. The memory of last night flashed through my mind—her dead-tired posture, the blank stare she’d worn after a whole day of searching for answers about Lucien. But this morning... she was composed. Focused. Beautiful in that calm way that somehow made me calmer too.

I pushed myself up. "You’re too awake for someone who slept at 11:30."

She shot me a glance over her shoulder as she picked out one of my shirts.

"And you’re too dramatic for someone who almost slept in on an important day."

I stared. "I did not almost sleep in."

"You did," she said, completely confident. "If I hadn’t woken you, you’d still be face-down in the pillow, dreaming about spreadsheets."

Then she smirked—finally, the Val expression I always looked for.

She laid the clothes out for me on the bed: crisp charcoal slacks, the light blue dress shirt that somehow "brings out your quiet menace," according to her, and the navy blazer she’d ironed two nights ago "just in case."

"You planned this, didn’t you?" I said.

She shrugged lightly. "I plan everything."

She wasn’t wrong.

I brushed my teeth, showered, and got dressed while she applied a soft touch of makeup in front of the vanity. At some point, she hummed under her breath—one of those soothing, wordless melodies she only did in the mornings when she was feeling a tiny bit optimistic.

When I was done, I stepped behind her, adjusting my watch. "You’re fully dressed too."

"Of course I am," she replied, meeting my eyes in the mirror. Her outfit was simple—cream blouse, tailored black trousers, and her hair pinned neatly back. She looked like a woman ready to face an empire. "We both have places to be before the Presentation."

"Moreau Dynamics?" I asked.

She nodded, fastening her earring. "Dad wants an update... or as close to an update as I can give without telling him the entire disaster."

"And Lucien?" I asked quietly.

Her hands stilled for one second. "Not today. Today I don’t have the mental capacity to chase him. After the presentation, maybe."

"Val..." I murmured, reaching and gently resting a hand on her shoulder.

She covered my hand with hers, squeezed, and turned to face me fully. "Hey. Focus on your win today, okay? I’ll handle my end."

"You sure?"

She leaned up on her toes, kissed me—short, sweet, grounding.

"I’m sure. And... you need to get going. Hale is probably pacing."

"He should pace," I muttered, earning myself another soft smile.

She stepped back, looked me over from head to toe, and her face broke into a proud, almost playful grin. "Go get that contract, husband."

I inhaled deeply. "Yes, ma’am."

She followed me downstairs, Duchess padding sleepily along behind her. Aline peeked from the kitchen with her usual warm greeting, wishing us both good luck like she already knew today held weight.

At the front door, Val handed me my car keys, then smoothed my lapel like it wasn’t already perfect.

"You’re ready?" she murmured.

"With you prepping me? Always."

She rolled her eyes lightly but her smile gave her away. "Drive safe."

"You too."

We walked out together into the clear morning, the air cool but carrying that subtle Friday buzz—the world feeling like it was shifting forward all at once.

We reached my car first. She stopped with me, fingers brushing lightly against my sleeve before she stepped away toward her own car.

"Call me when you get to Gray & Milton," she said.

"And you when you get to the office."

She nodded, then hesitated. For a split second, she looked like she wanted to say something else—something heavier. But she swallowed it, straightened, and gave me one last confident nod.

"You’ve got this, Kai."

"And you’ve got me," I replied.

Her lips curved again—soft, warm, proud. "Always."

We both got into our cars. She started hers first, pulling out slowly with one last wave. I watched her taillights disappear past the gate before starting mine.

As I drove toward Gray & Milton, the roads looked familiar yet charged—like the day itself had its shoulders squared. This presentation was supposed to be the highlight of the quarter, the one that could change everything for me at G&M. Normally, I would have been running on adrenaline.

But all I thought about was her driving toward Moreau Dynamics, carrying the weight of her father’s company alone.

And for the first time since this whole project began, I wished the day would move slower—not because I wasn’t ready, but because I wanted to stay with her a little longer before everything shifted again.

---

Walking into Gray & Milton that morning felt different—like the air itself knew something big was about to happen. The lobby was buzzing with employees moving faster than usual, voices low, the kind of hush that follows expectation.

I took the elevator up to the twelfth floor, straightened my tie once, twice—okay, maybe three times—and stepped into the project wing.

Instantly, I could tell the team was in pre-battle mode.

Ji-ho was perched on the edge of his desk with his tablet, muttering something in Korean that sounded suspiciously like a pep talk to himself. Noah was typing quietly, analytical as always, expression unreadable. Tasha stood near the window, scrolling through a digital folder, her foot tapping—a sign only people close to her ever caught. And Gabriel, our Contracts Manager, was already halfway through his coffee, looking like he’d been awake since the previous century.

Then Hale walked out of his office.

That alone told me everything. Richard Hale didn’t leave his office before 9:30am unless something was serious.

He gave the room a once-over. "Morning, everyone."

"Morning, sir," a small chorus echoed.

His gaze landed on me. "Tanaka. Everything set on your end?"

"As set as it can be," I said.

Ji-ho perked up from his desk. "Translation: he checked the numbers ten times but still wants to check an eleventh."

I scoffed. "Please. It was twelve."

That actually got a laugh—quiet, but real. Even Noah’s lips twitched.

Tasha crossed her arms, eyes warming as she looked at me. "How’s Val taking everything? Your wife usually handles pressure like she was born for it."

The question was gentle—too gentle.

I shrugged a shoulder. "She’s... managing."

Tasha nodded without pushing. She tended to probe, especially with me. But today was too important for distractions.

Hale clapped once, calling us together. "We leave in fifteen. I want everyone in the van by then."

Gabriel raised a hand lazily. "Is this the part where you give the ’don’t embarrass me’ speech?"

Hale shot him a dry look. "You know me too well."

Ji-ho mumbled, "You said the exact same thing during Pre-Proposal."

"And you didn’t embarrass me then," Hale replied. "Let’s keep the streak going."

The team chuckled again, tension easing just enough.

I walked to my desk to grab the final folder—mostly symbolic at this point. Everything was digital, but holding something physical made the day feel more... real.

As I slid the last document into place, Tasha drifted over.

"You look unusually calm," she said quietly.

"Do I?"

She hummed. "You do. Like you’ve made peace with whatever happens today."

I paused... then gave her the simplest truth. "I did. This one matters... but it’s not the only thing that does."

Something flickered in her eyes—understanding, maybe. Or something close to regret. But she only nodded and stepped back.

"Good. Just... don’t disappear after we win," she added with a crooked smile. "Hale promised us celebratory dinner."

Before I could respond, Hale called out, "Team! Let’s move!"

We grabbed our things and filed out.

---

The Ride to Holloway Avenue

The van smelled like new leather and someone’s overly enthusiastic cologne—Ji-ho’s, judging by how he immediately pretended to admire the ceiling when everyone turned to stare at him.

For the Pre-Proposal Conference, we’d moved in a full convoy—black SUVs, security, departmental staff—all of them pairing up in official cars to look coordinated and put-together.

But today was the Final Presentations.

This time, the core team ditched the theatrics and piled into a single van so we could run through last-minute checks together. Slides, data points, handoff cues—everything had to be airtight. Our own cars were left behind for the moment, while our larger convoy followed in formation behind the van, a reminder that even when we traveled "casual," we never traveled small.

I took a seat toward the back. Hale and Gabriel sat up front discussing schedule, voice low. Ji-ho and Noah were across from each other—Noah scrolling through a spreadsheet, Ji-ho trying to look over his shoulder even though he couldn’t understand half the numbers.

Tasha slid into the seat beside me.

"Don’t start stressing now," she muttered.

"I’m not stressing."

"You tapped your foot five times before answering. That’s your tell."

I stared at her. "...Why do you know that?"

She smiled lightly. "Because you’re predictable."

I scoffed. "I’m efficient."

"Predictably efficient," she corrected.

The drive took almost forty minutes, traffic thick as always on a Friday morning. I watched the city roll by through the window—skyscrapers, morning sun catching on glass, the slow pulse of the City waking up.

And beneath all that movement, I could feel it: anticipation. Nerves. Months of work drawing to a single point.

I wasn’t sure if we would win. I wasn’t sure how Val’s day would go. I wasn’t sure what the next weeks would look like for either of us.

But I knew one thing for certain:

Today needed to go right.

For my team.

For my future.

For her.

As Holloway Avenue finally came into view—the familiar tall building, the conference banners, the line of black cars pulling in—I felt something settle in my chest.

Not fear.

Not panic.

Focus.

Hale glanced back at us as the van slowed. "Alright, team. This is it."

Tasha sat up straighter. Ji-ho pointed dramatically at the glass doors like we were entering a gladiator arena. Gabriel took the final sip of his coffee like a man preparing for war. Noah simply closed his tablet.

And me?

I exhaled once, steady.

We pulled up to the curb.

The doors opened.

And...we’d arrived.

---

To be continued...