2. The Valencia Second Son
1534 Words
Inside the Valencia mansion, the maid welcomed them in, offering seats and drinks while they waited for Madam Catherine.
“Grandchild, mind your manners. The Lady of the house is very strict,” Grandpa instructed.
Emily pushed aside the thought of searching Noah Valencia’s name and rubbed her palms nervously. How could anyone wrap their head around this? Single just yesterday, and now about to get engaged. Her thoughts tangled in chaos.
The old lady appeared shortly, wheeled into the living room by her maids. Emily and her grandfather rose to greet her.
“Please, Levi, dispense with the courtesy. We are soon to be one family,” the old lady said, her voice calm but edged with authority. Her gaze slid to Emily. “So, this is your granddaughter. As beautiful as I was told. A suitable match for my grandson. Come here, child.”
Emily rushed over, taking the old lady’s outstretched hand. “Good afternoon, ma. My name is Emily.”
“Levi, your granddaughter’s voice carries grace,” Madam Catherine observed. Then, with a pointed look at Emily, she added, “She and my grandson will give this family strong, healthy heirs.”
At the mention of children, Emily froze, though she forced a smile. The old lady withdrew her hand, her sharp eyes lingering before she turned away.
“Step outside for a moment, child. I must speak privately with your grandfather.”
Emily nodded quietly and stepped outside. Only then did the tension release from her body.
The Valencia mansion was breathtaking. Even under the harsh sun, the flowers seemed freshly watered. To the side, a small pond shimmered with colorful fish.
One of the maids approached with a tray of cookies and juice. “This way, miss.”
Emily was led to a tent where colorful parrots hung in cages from the center. “Do you need anything else, miss?”
She shook her head, and the maid left. Emily stared at the tray of cookies, but her mind felt heavy. Having children at this age had never been her plan. Would they even let her finish college before expecting her to get pregnant? The future she had carefully planned now seemed about to wash down the drain.
The Valencia family seemed deeply traditional, the kind to still prize the idea of a housewife.
A commotion broke her thoughts. Her eyes followed the sound. Several staff members clustered around something.
“Young Master, be careful…” a maid pleaded.
As Emily drew closer, she realized the maids were guiding a man—drunk, swaying in both directions.
“I need one more glass… one more glass of Hennessy…” the drunk man sang, pulling the staff down with him as he swayed and collapsed.
She instantly recognized the face—Nicholas Valencia. A gasp escaped her lips. His hair fell over his forehead, his sharp nose giving him a striking appearance. He was even better looking in person than in the papers.
Emily shook her head, chastising herself for finding him attractive. But Nicholas noticed her.
He shamelessly raked his eyes from her head to her toes, then smiled. “One of my pies? Waiting for zaddy?” he slurred.
The maids rushed in, apologizing in a flurry. “Sorry, miss. Our young Master is drunk—he isn’t always like this.”
Emily nodded and folded her arms across herself. The younger Valencia was really something—drunk in broad daylight, speaking shamelessly about women. He seemed hopeless.
“You’re one of my girls… Anita? Brenda? Yeah, that smile—I got your name right, babygirl,” Nicholas mumbled.
He suddenly stumbled forward, colliding into Emily and knocking her to the floor. Both his hands landed on her chest. “You so large, Mama.”
The staff gasped, quickly pulling Nicholas off her.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, her fists trembling at her sides. “Apologize. Now.”
Nicholas chuckled, still straining against the staff restraining him. “Feisty, Mama. Just my kind of woman. A wildcat.”
Emily’s palm smacked across his face. “Watch your mouth, jerk.”
The staff gasped at her outburst, but Nicholas only smiled. “You’ve got soft hands, Mama. I could show you how to use them.”
Emily bit back her retort as Madam Catherine and her grandfather walked out. The old lady’s face hardened as she pointed her walking stick at Nicholas.
“You wayward child! Must you always drag down the reputation of the Valencia family?”
“What did I do, Grandma? I’m only talking to one of my women,” he countered with a pout. Emily’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
The old woman knocked his knees sharply with her walking stick.
“Must you let everyone believe I raised a mad dog? One of your women! I never raised you to be so shameless.” Madam Catherine inhaled sharply. “Look—this is your sister-in-law. Learn to respect her and stay away from her.”
“Sister-in-law?” he asked, startled.
“Yes,” Madam Catherine nodded. “She is going to be Noah’s wife.”
Emily’s face fell at the statement — this marriage was really happening. The weight of it hit her like a slap. She tried to suck in a breath, but before she could steady herself, Nicholas suddenly draped an arm around her shoulders, the sharp scent of alcohol making her scrunch up her nose in disgust.
“Sister-in-law!” he slurred, grinning. “Grandma, can I test if she’s suitable for my brother? It would be such a tragedy if these big t**s were fake.”
The entire staff gasped. Emily’s jaw nearly hit the floor, and even her grandfather’s face drained of color at his audacity. Without thinking, she jabbed her elbow into his ribs. “Get off me.”
“Nicholas, I’ll break your head!” Madam Catherine barked, lifting her walking stick.
Nicholas only laughed, staggering back with a smirk. “I’ll be in my room, Grandma.” His eyes flicked to Emily, the mischief in them burning shamelessly. “See you around, sister-in-law.”
“Let’s go, Young Master,” one of the staff said quickly, grabbing hold of him. They struggled to pull him away as he chuckled all the way down to the house.
Madam Catherine let out a long breath, her posture softening only when Nicholas disappeared into the mansion. Her gaze turned to Grandpa’s horrified one. “That’s my second grandson,” she said quietly, “but I promise you, he isn’t always like that.”
“We would like to take our leave now, Madam Catherine,” Grandpa replied hastily, bowing low as he took Emily’s trembling hand. It was clear he was more shaken than she was.
“Paul, Paul…” Madam Catherine called after them, but Grandpa only tightened his grip and quickened his pace, leading Emily out of the mansion without looking back.
After they stepped out, Emily caught his hand. “Why did you leave so suddenly, Grandpa? We need the money—for Kevin’s sake.”
“Emily,” the old man groaned, his voice trembling, “my daughter must be weeping up there in the heavens. How could you cope in that kind of family? There’s so much chaos in that house. Too many people living under one roof—and you’d be staying there too!”
“You met someone?” she asked softly.
“I met Catherine’s two siblings,” he said, shaking his head. “They argued like children. I cannot—”
“Grandpa.” Emily reached for his arm. “We don’t have another choice. We can’t risk Kevin’s life.”
He hesitated, the lines on his face deepening before he sighed. “She invited us for dinner tomorrow. You’ll meet her grandson then, and we’ll proceed with the engagement.”
“But Kevin can’t wait that long. The doctor said—”
“Madam Catherine already called the hospital,” he interrupted gently. “His treatment has started.”
Emily exhaled in relief, her shoulders dropping. At least her brother was safe. “Let’s go home, Grandpa,” she whispered. “I feel like a mess.”
Back home, Emily stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection. A brown-haired girl with soft brown eyes gazed back at her. It used to excite her—seeing herself as the accomplished businesswoman she wanted to worked hard to become. But tonight, all she saw was an illusion. The life she thought she built was crumbling before her eyes. Still, could she really blame Kevin for being sick?
She sighed and turned away, pulling her shirt over her head. A sharp metallic scent hit her nose, making her pause. Her brows furrowed as she examined the fabric—and then she saw it. Blood. A large, dark stain, still wet.
Her heart lurched. Was she injured? She spun toward the mirror, frantically checking her back, her shoulders, her arms—but there was no wound, no pain. That’s when the memory struck her.
Nicholas. His arm slung over her shoulder.
Emily’s stomach twisted. Could this blood be his?
- Writer
