CEO's Regret: Losing Valentina

Friday – 6th February 2026 – Rossi Residence, Florida

Valentina

The black dress hung from the closet door while I stared at it like it belonged to someone else's life.

Funeral attire. I swallowed hard and folded another blouse into my carry-on before glancing automatically toward the clock on the wall. 1:42 p.m. My flight to New York left in three hours.

The house was quiet except for the muted television playing in the background while rain tapped softly against the gabled windows.

Rain. Always rain when my life hurt.

A bitter little laugh almost escaped me at the thought. I zipped the side compartment of my suitcase before pausing beside the kitchen counter where Dianne's funeral notice still lay beneath my phone.

DIANNE BAILEY - Beloved Founder of Bailey's Books

The ache in my chest deepened instantly. Dianne had been the first person to truly see me. Not as a foster kid. Not as some pretty distraction. Not as a charity case. She saw talent. Potential. Worth.

I had not been just another author on her roster. Even after I left New York, she never stopped checking on me. Phone calls. Emails. Birthday messages. Nothing to do with work, everything to do with being a true friend.

The last voicemail she'd left me three weeks ago before she was admitted to hospital still sat unanswered in my inbox. My contract with them was almost at its tailend. Neither of us could have dreamt how successful the book series would become in such a short space of time.

She wanted me to consider a bigger publishing house. More reach, bigger numbers. That was unthinkable to me.

Dianne was like family, so to me Bailey's Books was an extension of that. Financial stability was all I had needed, especially with my past. Chasing the biggest paycheck…abandoning ship…that was not me.

So, I had ignored it. Thought she would reconsider after some time - and just kept working on the next two books.

In retrospect, I wish I had called back. Because now…now there would never be another call. Another warm laugh. Another "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

Grief settled heavily against my ribs. I turned away quickly, reaching for my passport before the tears could come again.

The television volume suddenly rose. "—breaking news out of New York this evening—" I barely paid attention at first. Not until the familiar name hit me like a physical blow. "Nashian Blackthorpe, COO of Midas Media Group—"

Everything inside me froze. The passport slipped from my fingers onto the counter. Slowly...almost unwillingly...I turned toward the television.

And there he was...Nash. My Nash. Two years later and my traitorous heart still recognized him instantly. Tall. Perfectly tailored charcoal suit. Dark chestnut hair immaculately styled. Cold masculine beauty sharpened by age and power.

He stood behind the podium inside the Midas Media headquarters press room looking exactly the same. Those intense blue eyes sharp and intelligent, those s*xy lips curled into a small smile, his powerful athletic body loose and relaxed.

Maybe that was what hurt most. Because after two years, he seemed untouched, unchanged. And me? While I might look the same outwardly, I was nothing like the foolish girl he had destroyed.

A stunning slim blonde stood beside him with one manicured hand resting possessively on his arm. Tiffany Lawson. Soap actress. Media darling. Daughter of Edward Lawson, owner of Lawson Broadcasting Network.

She was beautiful. Polished. In a daring designer dress that hugged her curves and a satisfied smile playing on her scarlet tinted lips. The kind of woman who belonged beside powerful men in public.

The reporter on-screen continued enthusiastically. "Sources confirm the formal engagement celebration will take place Valentine's Day weekend at the Plaza Hotel, attended by celebrities, politicians and some of the biggest names in media and finance."

Valentine's Day. Of course. Another cruel twist. My throat tightened viciously.

Cameras flashed wildly across the room as Tiffany lifted her left hand to display a massive diamond ring. Then she smiled up at Nash. And he smiled back.

Not the cruel smile I remembered. Not cold. Not detached. But warm. Present. Intimate. Like a secret between two lovers. Which I suppose they were.

Something sharp and ugly twisted through my chest so suddenly I had to grip the edge of the counter. I had always known this day would come. Of course I did. Men like Nashian Blackthorpe eventually married women like Tiffany Lawson.

Women from powerful families. Women who elevated brands and media influence and corporate alliances. Not broken little girls from trailer parks who still flinched when voices got too loud.

Still...the heart is a fickle organ. Pain shot through me so violently it stole my breath for a second. Because some pathetic broken piece of me had apparently never fully stopped loving him. Even now. Even after everything.

I watched Tiffany lean closer toward him while reporters shouted questions. One reporter called out loudly. "When did you know Tiffany was the one?"

The camera focused tightly on Nash. And for one terrible second my heart betrayed me completely by remembering another February. A different ring. A hopeful proposal. A wish for a future I had foolishly imagined.

Nash gave a smooth, practiced smile and then looked deep into Tiffany's eyes. "When you know, you know."

The words hit like a knife sliding cleanly between my ribs. I looked away instantly. Oh God. Why now? When I was still reeling with the death of Dianne.

Humiliation burned through me. I shouldn't care anymore. I had rebuilt myself from the ruins he left behind. Built a career. Built a life. Built walls stronger than the girl who once waited every weekend for scraps of affection.

So why did it still hurt? Why did resentment still claw beneath my skin watching him give another woman the warmth, the affection he denied me?

I folded my arms tightly across my stomach, trying to bury the bitterness rising inside me. It didn't help.

Because suddenly I wasn't standing in my house in Florida anymore. I was back there. Back in Manhattan. Back in that penthouse. Back on my knees holding a titanium promise ring while the man I loved looked at me like I disgusted him.

And just like that...My mind dragged me back two years into the moment that everything fell apart.

2 years ago – Friday 28th February 2024

Valentina

The call came early on Friday morning.

Dianne, my publisher, breathless with excitement and enthusiasm had told me that we had done it. My breath caught…A million...the number seemed unreal for a series that had been out for just over a year.

We had sold a million books and had back orders. Told me to check my email and the confirmation of the bank transfer. "Do you know what that means Valentina? For you, for your future?" she asked.

I think I was still in shock. The books had been bringing in a steady income. I hadn't needed to sell any of my mom's paintings for the last eighteen months. "That's wonderful Dianne. You know how important financial stability is to me."

There was silence on the other end and then she sighed. "I know. The next time you open your banking app, you're going to be a millionaire my sweet girl. So cut yourself some slack and live a little." she said on a more serious note.<