Chapter 121 Gratitude.
Veyra sat across from Wesley Wynn, her hands folded on the table. The words she had been about to say hung in the air. She had not finished her sentence. She had not said no. Not yet.
But Wesley already knew.
“I will humbly reject your offer.”
Wesley knows it, he knows she will reject his offer and that’s what had happened right now but he didn’t make any fuse instead he leaned back in his chair. His eyes were curious and his voice was soft.
"Mrs. Thorne," he said. "May I ask you something personal?"
Veyra hesitated. Then she nodded.
"Why didn’t you leave the Solenne family?" Wesley asked. "Back then. When they were oppressing you. When they controlled your life."
Veyra’s jaw tightened.
She thought about the years she had spent trapped in that house. The cold meals. The silent dinners. The way her stepmother had looked at her like she was a stain on the carpet.
She thought about her grandmother. The only person who had ever loved her. The only person who had believed in her.
She took a breath.
"I had no choice," she said.
Wesley tilted his head. "No choice?"
"They controlled my bank cards. All of them. Every account. Every cent. I couldn’t access a single dollar of my own money."
Wesley’s eyes narrowed. "That’s illegal."
"It didn’t matter, they had lawyers, they had connections and they also had the power to make any problem disappear."
Veyra paused. Her voice was quieter now.
"But that wasn’t the worst part."
She looked at her hands. The black gloves were still on her fingers. She had not taken them off.
"They had my grandmother’s ashes," she said.
Wesley’s face went still.
"She was the only one who ever loved me. She raised me. She sacrificed everything for me." Veyra’s voice cracked. "When she died, the Solenne family took her ashes. They kept them in a locked cabinet in my stepmother’s study."
Dorian’s jaw tightened. His hands were fists on the table.
"They told me that if I ever tried to leave, if I ever tried to run away, they would flush her ashes down the toilet."
The room was silent.
Wesley’s face was pale. His eyes were cold.
"That’s monstrous," he said.
Veyra nodded. "I stayed for some years. I stayed because I couldn’t bear the thought of her being treated like trash."
Wesley was quiet for a long moment.
Then he reached across the table. His hand hovered near hers. He did not touch her.
"You endured that," he said. "For many years."
"Yes."
"Without telling anyone."
"No one would have believed me."
Wesley’s jaw tightened. "I would have believed you."
Veyra looked at him. His eyes were serious. Sincere.
"Thank you," she said.
Wesley leaned back. He turned to Dorian.
"You knew about this?"
Dorian’s voice was flat. "Not the details."
"She was living with that. Every day. For many years." Wesley shook his head. "And you didn’t do anything?"
Dorian’s eyes were cold. "She didn’t tell me."
"She didn’t have to tell you. You should have asked."
Dorian said nothing.
Veyra spoke up. "It wasn’t his fault. I didn’t want anyone to know. I was ashamed."
Wesley looked at her. His voice was softer now.
"Ashamed of what?"
"Of being trapped. Of being weak. Of not being able to leave."
Wesley shook his head. "You weren’t weak. You were protecting something precious."
Veyra’s throat tightened.
Wesley leaned forward. His voice was low.
"Mrs. Thorne, if you ever need help, if anyone ever threatens you or your grandmother’s remains, I will personally ensure that problem disappears."
Veyra blinked. "You don’t have to—"
"I know I don’t have to. I want to."
Veyra looked at him. At the sincerity in his eyes. At the quiet intensity in his voice.
"Thank you," she said. "But I want to handle this myself. My family. My past. My grandmother’s ashes."
Wesley nodded slowly. "I respect that."
Veyra smiled. A small, tired smile.
"Thank you," she said again.
Wesley set down his wine glass.
"Mrs. Thorne," he said. "Will you tell me why you declined my invitation?"
Veyra was silent for a moment.
"It wasn’t because I wasn’t interested," she said. "I was. Very interested."
Wesley’s eyebrows rose. "Then why?"
Veyra took a breath.
"Because I have my own life plan. I want to build something. Something of my own. A company. A legacy. A future."
Wesley nodded slowly.
"And being the vice leader of the Ravenwood Syndicate would have interfered with that."
"Yes."
Wesley was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled.
"I understand," he said.
Veyra looked at him. "You do?"
"I do. I’ve spent my life building something. I know what it means to have a vision. To want to see it through."
Veyra’s throat tightened.
"Thank you," she said. "For understanding."
Wesley raised his glass. "To the future, Mrs. Thorne."
Veyra raised her water glass. "To the future."
She set down her glass.
She looked at Dorian.
He was still sitting beside her, his hands folded on the table. His face was calm. But his eyes were soft.
Veyra’s voice was quiet. "My life plan, I owe it all to you."
Dorian’s expression did not change.
"You gave me a home. You gave me a chance. You gave me the freedom to build something of my own."
Dorian said nothing.
"I was trapped before I met you. I was powerless. I had nothing." She paused. "And then you came along. And you gave me everything."
Her eyes glistened.
"Thank you," she said and she raised her glass.