Page 18 of The Rancher's Second-Choice Wife

Valerian spent the next hour making calls, none of which lasted less than a minute. News didn't just have wings in their world. It spread like a fucking virus, more so when billions of dollars were involved.

Everything Camelia had thrown at him earlier was the truth. He had never made the effort to play nice with anyone, and he had never given a fuck about other people's feelings. He had taken a lot of risks that could have blown up in his face, and he would've had no one to blame but himself.

It was just fucking ironic that what was now being labeled as this century's greatest financial nightmare had nothing to do with his high-risk approach to investment.

Two years ago, he had won a bidding war that crowned Rossfield Inc. as the exclusive supplier of oil for the Arabian kingdom of Risto. Everyone had applauded the victory, and it was one of the few times when his entire board was in full support of his decision to take out a massive loan for the venture.

Now, it was the opposite, with everyone on their high horse as they labeled the loan as Valerian's most unforgivable act of gross negligence. His business rivals had been granting interviews left and right, saying that Valerian had it coming for being an arrogant SOB who never listened to reason. Economists wanting to make a name for themselves had also been working hard, producing short-length videos that deliberately twisted the truth for the sake of going viral.

Everyone was acting as if Valerian should've been able to see the future and predict the assassination of Emir Sheikh Aminullah, and that anarchy would sweep over the once-peaceful streets of his kingdom.

Valerian had never been much of a drinker, and he hadn't much respect either for people who took to the bottle to escape their problems. But just this once, the temptation to take the easy way out overtook him.

His chest started to tighten painfully as a familiar sickening sense of restlessness started buzzing in his mind.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Camelia had a wine bar installed at the corner of his office a few years ago, insisting that it was necessary to impress any guests they had who loved to drink. Tonight was Valerian's first time to use it for himself, and a few sips were all it took to dull his senses.

Fuck.

He threw the glass away, and he watched it smash into pieces against the wall. Even though he hadn't done anything stupid yet, it still disgusted him that he had sunk so low as to do—-

(what his mother did)

—-what others did.

Never again.

Monty was the only driver on duty when Valerian got to the basement parking of his building, and the graveness of the older man's expression wasn't lost on him.

Valerian waited until he was in the backseat before addressing the big fucking elephant in the room—-or in this case, his limo.

"You've heard about what happened."

"I did, sir. And we both know there was no way you could've seen it coming."

"The whole world begs to differ."

"You know what the whole world loves more than an underdog? It's seeing great men like you fall. It makes them feel better about being mediocre."

A ghost of a smile touched Valerian's lips at the contempt in Monty's voice. "People keep telling me I should hold back with my words. I should've let them know that it's their "sweet" dear Monty who taught me all about social etiquette and manners."

"Sure you can," Monty said with a grin, "but no one's gonna believe you."

"You're probably right."

Monty glanced at his passenger over his shoulder. "You sure you okay? You shouldn't be alone right now."

"I won't be. Heather's looking after Silver."

Monty nodded in approval. "Good. She's a lot smarter than you are. Be sure to listen to whatever she has to say."

"I will."

Monty winced upon hearing those words. That's not good. It was his first time to see Valerian less than sober, and he had no idea what the young man could get up to when drunk.

Valerian firmly rejected Monty's invitation to walk him up to his apartment. "You're worrying for nothing. I'm not stumbling or swaying, am I?"

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