Chapter One Hundred And Twenty Two

Chapter 122

The air around the Valerian estate was heavy and thick with the aftermath of chaos. Smoke curled lazily into the sky, the faint orange glow of the wreckage casting long shadows over the once beautiful garden. Jemima sat in the library, staring blankly at the cracked windowpane. The world outside felt distant, unreal, like a nightmare she couldn't wake from.  

Jay's voice echoed from the hallways, sharp and commanding. He was still organizing the guards, trying to piece together the broken shards of their ruined evening. His determination was admirable, but Jemima couldn't help the bitter taste that rose in her throat every time she thought about him.  

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her chair as the library door creaked open. Jay stepped in, his face a mask of exhaustion and tension.  

"Jem," he said softly, closing the door behind him.  

She didn't look at him. "If you're here to justify what happened, don't bother."  

Jay sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'm not here to justify anything. I just want to talk."  

"Talk? What could we possibly talk about Jay?” Jemima turned to him, her green eyes flashing with anger. "What would have happened if Ava’s children died? Do you have any idea how many people died tonight? How many families are grieving because of this? And for what? A wedding we could've postponed?"  

His jaw clenched. "Postponing the wedding wouldn't have stopped Mancini, Jem. He's been planning this for months. You think delaying would've made him change his mind?"  

"I don't know!" she snapped, standing up. "But maybe it would've given us more time to prepare. Maybe those guards out there wouldn't have died. Maybe, nobody would have gotten hurt. Maybe—"  

"Maybe it wouldn't have made a damn difference," Jay interrupted, his voice rising. "Mancini isn't some petty criminal. He's ruthless, and he would've come after us no matter what. Do you think I don't regret what happened? You think I don't feel responsible for every life lost tonight?"  

Jemima's lip trembled, but she refused to back down. "What if I died Jay? What if you died? What if it was Marcus or Ava? My sibling! What if—“

“But none of that happened did it?” Jay's temper was almost palpable but it didn’t deter Jemima. “Jem can you see that you’re basing this all on false what-ifs?”

“Then why does it feel like you're always charging ahead without thinking about the consequences? I begged you, Jay. I begged you to wait, and you ignored me."  

“I didn’t ignore you!”

“Well, I felt ignored. You only listened to what I had to say and not what I felt in my heart because if you did you’d have been able to hear and feel just how scared I was but no! Your incessant need to charge into things head-on and always be in control wouldn’t let you be. Now take a look at where that has landed us!” 

Jay stepped closer, his dark eyes burning with frustration. "Because I thought I was protecting you! Everything I've done has been to keep you safe, Jem. Don't you see that?"  

She turned away, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But at what cost Jay McIntyre Black? At what fucking cost? I never asked you to protect me like this. I never asked for any of this."  

Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. Jay's shoulders sagged as he exhaled slowly.  

"I'll fix this," he said quietly. "I don't know how, but I will."  

“You keep saying that but now it’s just starting to sound like a repetitive false statement! Just get lost!” She whispered, her energy depleting as she saw a mixture of hurt, anger, and sadness play on Jay’s face. 

“Jem…” Jay tried to comfort her, he needed her. He reached for her but Jemima didn't respond. She turned away, staring out of the window, her heart aching with a mixture of anger and sorrow as she heard Jay’s footsteps retreat. 

Later that night, the estate was eerily silent. Most of the guards had retreated to their posts, and the guests had long since been escorted to safety. Jemima wandered the darkened halls, her thoughts a tangled mess.  

The garden drew her in, its shattered beauty reflecting the turmoil inside her. She walked among the ruins, her bare feet brushing against the cold, damp grass. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of smoke and roses.  

She stopped near the fountain, its once-elegant structure now a broken heap of stone. Her fingers brushed against the edge, her mind replaying the events of the night over and over.  

A soft rustling behind her made her freeze. Her heart raced as she turned, her eyes scanning the shadows.  

"Who's there?" she called, her voice trembling as she reached for her gun behind her back. She knew not to walk alone, especially with Mancini on the loose but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel terrified. 

A figure emerged from the darkness, stepping into the faint moonlight. Jemima's breath caught in her throat as recognition slammed into her like a tidal wave.  

"Vanessa?"  

The woman before her was almost unrecognizable. Her once-polished appearance was gone, replaced by a rougher, wearier version of herself. Her hair was unkempt, her clothes plain and slightly tattered. But her eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—were unmistakable.  

"Hello, Jemima," Vanessa said, her voice soft but steady.  

This was her best friend— in person. Jemima’s eyes softened as tears glistened in the corner of her eyes. The emotions that welled inside her at seeing Vanessa again were immaculate. 
Vanessa wasn’t dead! She thought to herself happily and relived. And she was here, standing before her. 

Her best friend, The one that she has shared all her secrets with. The one she thought was dead. The one who betrayed her and sold her out to Jon. 

At that thought, Jemima's fists clenched at her sides, her gaze hardened and her grip tightened on her weapon. "What are you doing here? Haven't you caused enough damage?"  

Vanessa raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not here to fight. I swear."  

"Then why are you here?" Jemima demanded, her voice laced with suspicion.  

Vanessa hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground. For the first time, she looked vulnerable, almost human.  

"I came to ask for forgiveness," she said quietly.  

Jemima blinked, stunned into silence. Of all the things she had expected, this wasn't one of them.  

"You want forgiveness?" she echoed, her tone incredulous.  

Vanessa nodded, her expression earnest. "I know I don't deserve it. After everything I've done, I wouldn't blame you if you turned me away. But I've changed, Jemima. I've seen the consequences of my actions, and I... I can't live with myself anymore."  

Jemima narrowed her eyes, her skepticism clear. "And I'm supposed to believe you've suddenly grown a conscience?"  

"I'm not asking you to believe me," Vanessa said, her voice trembling. "I'm just asking you to hear me out. Please."  

Jemima crossed her arms, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to tell Vanessa to leave, to never show her face again. But another part, a quieter, more compassionate part, urged her to listen.  

"Fine," she said finally. "You've got five minutes."  

Vanessa exhaled a shaky breath, relief flickering across her face. She stepped closer, her movements tentative.  

"I made a lot of mistakes," she began. "I let my ambition and jealousy drive me to do terrible things. I hurt people—people who didn't deserve it but he had my sister. He had Zora, Jem! You know how much I love her and how much she means to me. I couldn’t let anything happen to her. Jon capitalized on my vulnerability and planted a seed of jealousy in me. He told me how you have everything and you’d always be in the spotlight."  

Jemima's jaw tightened. "If you believed him then I don’t think this forgiveness is going to work because for fuck’s sake Vanessa, we fucking grew up together. I knew about your shitty family and you knew about mine. We are from the same fucking plate and got lost in the woods. I shared more of myself with you than I ever did with Ava or Marcus, my twin! My fucking twin. And you go ahead and betray not just me but my family and trust too?"  

“I know, I should have told you about Zora. I know that now. I also know that it doesn’t make anything I did right…”

Jemima scoffed, “It sure as hell doesn’t!”

Vanessa flinched but continued. "I escaped to protect Zora. To make sure she was alright and I thought I could start my life over. But no matter where I went, the guilt followed me. Every face I saw reminded me of the people I'd wronged. I realized I couldn't move forward until I made things right."  

"And you think showing up here will fix everything?" Jemima asked, her voice cold.  

"No," Vanessa admitted. "But it's a start. I don't expect you to forgive me overnight. Hell, I don't even expect you to trust me. But I had to try. It’s worth a shot right?"  

The sincerity in Vanessa's voice gave Jemima pause. She studied the woman before her, searching for any hint of deceit. But all she saw was a broken, remorseful soul.  

Before Jemima could respond, a sharp crack echoed through the garden. Both women froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the noise.  

"What was that?" Jemima whispered, her heart pounding.  

Vanessa's expression darkened, her body tensing. "We're not alone."