Page 95 of Daddy Brigadier

He stands tall, his gaze locked on the gravestones. “No, Lexi.”

I feel my shoulders sag as the rain eases, my clothes clinging uncomfortably. “I could have sworn I saw someone,” I murmur, doubt creeping in.

“It’s been a long day. Let’s get you home,” Lev encourages, holding the door open for me.

I silently nod and step inside.

As we drive away from the curb, I glance out the window, but all I can see is the impenetrable darkness, a shroud of blackness surrounding me.

I grip the envelope tightly, feeling as though Valentin’s letter is my only lifeline to him. That’s when I notice something else tucked inside. I pull it out and discover another sheet of paper. As I unfold it, a sleek black keycard slips out, landing in my palm.

I hold it up, confusion swirling in my mind. “What the hell?” I whisper to myself.

Scanning the paper, I find a bank account number typed, and next to it, an astonishing balance: $1 billion.

“Valentin!” I whisper.

I sink into my seat, tracing his initial on my throat with my wet fingers.

With my eyes closed, I let the tears flow freely.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

LEXI

I stand outside the towering skyscraper on a bustling street, where cars honk and life rushes by. Yet, amidst the clamor behind me, all I can focus on is a mesmerizing hum that draws me in.

I went to Seattle, and it became clear that it was no longer home—not without my sister by my side. For weeks, I found myself sitting in the coffee shop my sister now owns.

The workers thought I was losing my mind as I spent hours there, overwhelmed by memories of Valentin, tears cascading down my cheeks. But one phone call from Elise, and they left me alone, ensuring my coffee cup never went empty or cold.

One day, something inside me snapped. Seattle and that coffee shop is part of my past. It was time for me to start living for the future.

After a month, it was time for me to return home—not to the city of our childhood, but to the place where my heart belongs—New York City.

I take a deep breath and step toward the entrance.

As I enter, the lobby quickly becomes overwhelming. Security personnel in sharp black suits are scattered about, and people chat animatedly, coffee cups in hand, each seeminglyon the brink of rushing off to their next destination. Glancing around, I notice a woman at a desk nearby.

I approach the receptionist, who greets me with a welcoming smile.

“How can I help you today?” she asks.

“I’m looking for the Savin Corporation,” I say quietly, hoping this is the right spot. I recall that when I was tracking Valentin, he frequently visited this building for meetings with Andrei.

She casts a curious glance my way, staring at how my black tights hug my curves, paired with a stylish black crop top and striking knee-high leather boots. As I survey my surroundings, it’s clear that I must stand out amidst the sea of business professionals bustling around me.

“Are you meeting someone?” she inquires, her tone hinting at a desire to be courteous, while still implying, I’m out of place here.

“Elise Walsh,” I answer, tapping my fingers rhythmically on the wooden desk. She narrows her eyes in confusion. “Oh, I meant Elise Savin,” I swiftly clarify.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, glancing at her computer.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, but appointments are required.”

She offers a terse smile that seems to say, ‘Leave. You’re not welcome here.’