Mrs. Willow's expression shifted to one of concern as she replied, "Pascal, you're still fixated on those who wanted you dead?"
Valentine Anderson's brow furrowed deeply in frustration – this was not the acknowledgment he had hoped for. With a chill in his voice, he corrected her, "Don't call me that. My name is Valentine Anderson."
Unperturbed by his frosty demeanor, Mrs. Willow casually slid a series of photographs across the table. Upon seeing the contents, Valentine's eyes widened in sheer disbelief. He rubbed his eyes as if to clear them from a trick of the light, but the images remained unchanged.
With hands shaking, he picked up one of the photographs. The sight of Andrea, Lucas, and a child named Pete, all smiling like a perfect family, was more than he could bear. In a fit of anger, Valentine threw the photo aside, slammed his fists onto the table, and stood up abruptly, his roar filled with rage and his eyes bloodshot. "You're lying! Andrea wouldn't betray me. This has to be a doctored photo; Andrea doesn't have a child," he spat out, his entire frame quaking with emotion.
Mrs. Willow simply laughed softly, unfazed by his turmoil. She pressed play on a voice recorder, and Valentine's heart sank as he recognized Andrea's voice followed by the innocent tones of a young boy and the unmistakable voice of Lucas Anderson, his own twin brother. His hands clenched into fists, his chest seething with a caustic mix of betrayal and fury.
As the recording played – "Pete, I love you, I love you and Daddy. Pete, we are going to live as one big family today" – Mrs. Willow watched Valentine's world crumble.
"Andrea has moved on with your brother, Lucas, right after her father's funeral. She came back to Vegas City for him, to get revenge on you, and to wrestle away Val. Corp. They were behind the bombing," Mrs. Willow said with a twisted smile, observing his reaction.
Valentine's face reddened with each word, his anger boiling over as he bellowed, "Shut up!" The confusion and disbelief were palpable, but the pieces were falling into place in the cruelest way.
It was true; Andrea had not been pregnant during their divorce, and she certainly hadn't mentioned a child upon her return to Vegas. The realization that he had been deceived and made a fool of hit him like a physical blow. He stumbled backward, then collapsed to the floor, his face ashen.
"Andrea!" he cried out, his voice a mix of heartache and rage as he pounded the floor with his fists.
A sly grin spread across Mrs. Willow's face as she savored the chaos she had orchestrated. She hadn't expected Valentine to believe her completely.
When Valentine suddenly rose to his feet and made for the door, Mrs. Willow's composure flickered with panic. "Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.
Valentine halted and turned to face her, his eyes cold and resolute. "I'm going to see Andrea. I need her to tell me why she betrayed my love and trust."
Mrs. Willow's chuckle was dismissive. "You don't even resemble the Valentine Anderson she knew. Do you think someone who allegedly wants you dead would offer explanations?"
He knew she had a point; his appearance had changed drastically, and Andrea might not recognize him. Yet his determination was unyielding.
"I don't care," Valentine declared, his voice hardened with resolve. Ignoring her, he yanked the door open and strode out into the looming uncertainty.
Mrs. Willow's eyes narrowed briefly, a flicker of concern passing over her features before she composed herself and smiled. Rising from her seat, she followed Valentine Anderson.
Valentine Anderson dashed out of the grand mansion, his mind racing as he took in the distance to the gate and felt the weight of his empty pockets. Without a phone, the likelihood of reaching Andrea seemed to dwindle to nothing.
Ensnared in his thoughts, he barely registered the sudden voice until it cut through his reverie, "I will take you to meet her, but you have to promise me," it said.
Startled, Valentine turned to face the speaker—it was Mrs. Willow. She represented his only link to understanding the tangled situation he found himself in, and in his desperation, he asked with a grave tone, "What is it that you ask of me to promise?"
"If Andrea turns you away, you must come back with me to claim leadership of the Willow Group," Mrs. Willow replied, her eyes betraying a fleeting glint of something deeper.
Valentine weighed her words. He owed his current opportunity to Mrs. Willow's prior acts of kindness and felt a strong obligation to repay her. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded in agreement.
"I promise," Valentine said firmly, "but on the condition that you won't interfere with my actions in Vegas."
Mrs. Willow's lips curled into a sly smile, content with her victory. Extending her hand, she announced, "Welcome on board, partner."
Shaking her hand, Valentine felt a mixture of relief and resolve. Mrs. Willow gestured towards her car, signaling the beginning of their journey. They entered the vehicle together and soon after, they were on their way to the airport, to take a flight to Vegas City.
After the plane touched down and they disembarked, they arranged for a taxi to take them to a car dealership. Once there, Valentine Anderson purchased a vehicle, facilitating his mobility around the city.
He navigated the streets until he reached the Singers' mansion. Parking outside the gates, Valentine exited his car and approached the gateway.
"Hello, Sir, is Andrea Singers present in the mansion?" inquired Valentine Anderson.
The gatekeeper scrutinized Valentine, assuming he was a businessman here to see Andrea, and thus addressed him courteously. "Hello, Mr...." he began, pausing for a moment before continuing, "You're in luck, sir, they're currently behind you."
As Valentine turned back towards his car, his eyes caught sight of an approaching motorcade. His vehicle was inadvertently obstructing the procession. A mix of emotions swept across his face – nervousness, anxiety, and fear – as his heart pounded with anticipation.
From one of the cars, Andrea stepped out, followed by Lucas Anderson, who was carrying Pete. Witnessing the three of them together, Valentine Anderson's complexion turned pale, his face reflecting the shock and discomfort he was feeling.