The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me-Chapter 238: Accountability

While the cheers were still echoing through Gray & Milton’s halls, my mind couldn’t help drifting to the other side of the city, where the atmosphere wouldn’t be nearly as bright.

I knew Val would be dealing with the aftermath in her own building, in her own way.

And I could picture it perfectly.

Gianna slipped into Val’s office just as she ended her call.

"Ma’am?" Gianna said quietly. "Mr. Chairman is asking for you. His office."

Val paused, fingers still resting on her phone. "Now?"

] "Yes ma’am. He said immediately."

Val nodded, rose, smoothed the front of her blouse, and walked out. Gianna followed her to the elevator, then stayed behind as the doors closed.

As Val stepped into the executive floor, the air was heavier. Everyone already knew the results were out. Everyone already knew the loss.

And everyone understood why the Chairman wanted his two children—and the man who led the project—together in the same room.

She pushed the door open.

Philip was already seated across from her father’s desk, shoulders tight, jaw clenched.

Charlie George Moreau leaned back in his leather chair, expression unreadable, one hand drumming on the armrest.

"Sit," her father said.

Val obeyed, taking her seat without a word.

Silence thickened the room for a few seconds before the door opened again.

Lucien walked in.

He looked irritated, tired, and defensive all at once. He shut the door harder than necessary before taking his place beside Philip.

Charlie didn’t waste time.

"Well," he said, voice quiet, but never gentle. "Let’s talk about the Meridian Development Initiative."

His gaze slid to Lucien and Philip. "You want to explain to me how a company with our resources, our standing, and our name managed to lose the biggest government project of the decade?"

Philip swallowed. Lucien’s jaw locked.

Charlie’s fingers tapped louder. "I’m listening."

Lucien exhaled sharply. "Father, the review board—"

"Don’t blame the review board," Charlie snapped. "They don’t owe you anything. They assess what you present to them. And what you presented?"

His eyes narrowed. "A disaster."

Philip cleared his throat. "Sir, we adjusted the capital model because—"

"Because what?" Charlie cut in. "Because you didn’t have your numbers straight? Because you didn’t review your own documents properly? Or because none of you bothered to question anything before submitting it?"

Philip flinched.

Lucien leaned forward. "You’re being dramatic. The loss wasn’t because of us alone. Gray & Milton—"

"I don’t care about Gray & Milton!" Charlie snapped, slamming his palm once on the desk. "I care about my company."

Silence fell. The air shifted.

Val sat still. She wasn’t asked to defend herself. Charlie never even looked at her yet. He didn’t need to. He knew which of his children had dropped the ball.

Charlie let out a slow, disappointed breath.

"I never should have put you in charge," he said to Lucien.

Lucien froze.

The words hit harder than yelling. Harder than insults. Harder than anything else.

Philip looked like he wanted to disappear.

Lucien’s voice scraped out, "So that’s what this is?"

"That’s exactly what this is," Charlie replied. "You were given a responsibility and you failed it. Like always."

Lucien’s hands curled into fists.

Charlie pushed up from his chair. "Get out. Both of you."

Philip stood immediately. Lucien didn’t. He stared at his father for a long, heavy moment before he scoffed under his breath and finally rose.

Neither of them looked at Val as they walked out.

When the door clicked shut, Charlie finally turned to his daughter.

"Couldn’t you have kept your brother in check?" he asked.

Val blinked once, then deadpanned, "You put him in charge."

Silence again.

Charlie pressed a hand to his forehead as if she’d given the most inconveniently correct response imaginable. He lowered himself back into his chair.

"Sit," he said—though she already was.

He looked at her for a long moment. Calm now. Too calm.

"Celestia," he said, "you are the new Chief Operating Officer of Moreau Dynamics."

Val stared.

That was not how organizational decisions were made. Not in a structured company. Definitely not in this company.

She leaned back, almost stunned into a laugh.

"...Just like that?" she asked.

"Yes," Charlie said without hesitation.

> "That’s not— Dad, that’s not how any of this works."

"I know exactly how it works," he said coolly. "And I also know that I’m surrounded by dummies. You’re the only one who understands the direction this company should go. The only one with sense."

> "Lucien is—"

"Lucien is too emotional," Charlie cut in. "And demoting him publicly would be a stain on my leadership. So we won’t do that."

There it was.

He continued, "But I can promote you. And I will. Everyone will answer to you except me. This is not a debate."

Val inhaled slowly. "Dad—"

"I’m the owner," Charlie said, voice turning sharper. "If I want to make the janitor the next CEO, I can. Don’t lecture me on structure."

Val looked at him, realizing—once again—that the company had always been built around how he ruled it, not how it should function.

She closed her eyes briefly.

There was no use.

"...Fine," she said quietly.

He nodded once, satisfied. "Good."

Charlie leaned back, clasping his hands.

"Now," he said, tone shifting, "what about the Benjamin Otavio matter? You didn’t tell me everything the last time we discussed it."

Val stilled.

Charlie’s eyes sharpened. "What is it you’re not telling me, Celestia?"

Her heartbeat slipped into a slower, heavier rhythm.

Her gaze fell to her lap.

She didn’t respond, not immediately. She only sat there, holding the truth in her hands and choosing silence over surrender.

Seconds stretched—heavy, suffocating, the kind that made even the air feel like it was listening.

Finally, she spoke.

"Dad..." Her voice was controlled, but soft. "I... I think Lucien might have sold his shares."

Charlie froze.

The stillness lasted only a breath.

"What?" His voice cracked through the room like something sharp. "Lucien did what?"

Val lifted both palms slightly, instinctively trying to calm him. "It’s not— it’s not confirmed. I don’t know for sure. It’s just... it looks like it. It might not be what it seems."

"So you’re guessing?" Charlie snapped.

"I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt." Her jaw remained steady even though her heartbeat wasn’t. "There were indicators. Movements. Nothing official."

Charlie pushed back in his chair, his hand dragging across his jaw as a storm settled behind his eyes. "If he sold anything to Benjamin Otavio..."

Val swallowed. "Dad—"

"If he sold," Charlie cut across her, voice low and grave now, "then he might not be the only one."

Her breath caught. "You think someone else—?"

"I think," he said, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, "that if Otavio is making a move, it wouldn’t end with one person. And if your brother was reckless enough to entertain it, others might have too."

Val felt her stomach tighten.

She had known it was bad—she hadn’t realized it might be bigger.

Charlie pointed at her, not harshly, but with weight. "You need to get to the bottom of this, Celestia. Immediately. If there’s even a chance that shares were sold out from under this family—under this company—I want names. I want dates. I want proof."

Val nodded. "I’ll look into it."

"And I’ll make some calls of my own," he said, already reaching for his phone. "I’m not sitting on my hands while someone tries to destabilize what I built."

She rose slowly from her seat.

Charlie didn’t look at her—already dialling—and she knew the conversation was over.

"Dad," she said quietly, a final acknowledgment.

He lifted a hand in response, the closest thing to a dismissal he ever gave her.

Val stepped out of the office and pulled the door shut behind her.

The hallway felt colder.

Larger.

Heavier.

And as she exhaled, she knew one thing with chilling clarity...

Whatever was coming, this was only the beginning.

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To be continued...