The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me-Chapter 233: Between Confidence and Silence

We weren’t told the results when we left the room—no one ever is—but the energy in Gray & Milton’s camp was unmistakable. Relief. Quiet confidence. The kind of collective exhale that only comes after months of pressure and twenty minutes of answering for every decision you’ve made.

But the day didn’t stop because we walked out.

Presentations ran back-to-back with twenty minutes in between. Companies rotated in and out like a moving puzzle, suits passing suits, nerves brushing against nerves. By the time we settled into the waiting lounge again, five more teams had already gone in.

Moreau Dynamics was called seventh.

Everyone looked up when their name echoed through the hallway. A quiet shift—a recognition that one of the biggest players was stepping onto the floor.

Their proposal was strong. It should have been unbeatable.

But Lucien had torpedoed that future long before today.

Philip walked first, rigid and over-prepared, the kind of posture that tried to hide nerves but only highlighted them. The rest of the core team—five people—followed in tight formation, adjusting folders, smoothing their jackets, straightening badges.

Val was last.

Composed. Steady. But holding that quiet resignation in her shoulders that only I would have caught.

They walked into the room.

The doors shut behind them.

And the entire floor outside went still.

Philip had expected confidence to carry them.

Val had expected the truth to catch up.

Twenty minutes felt longer.

When the doors finally opened, the first thing she saw was Philip’s face—pale, tight, blindsided. The others trailed behind him, some shaken, some just exhausted.

Philip dragged a hand down his face. "They were... harsher than the preliminary round."

One of the analysts muttered, "Expected," but he didn’t sound convinced.

Philip turned immediately to Val. "You didn’t say a word. Not once. You were supposed to lead the integration segment."

Val’s tone was even when she answered him, calm in a way that always unnerved people who didn’t know her well.

> "Philip, everything in that integration section was built on numbers compromised two months ago. Any explanation I gave would have collapsed under the first follow-up question."

Philip blinked. "So you just... let the silence hang?"

"I prevented a bigger disaster," she said. "Director Hansley already noticed our baseline projections didn’t match our earlier benchmarks. If I’d elaborated, she would’ve dug into the foundation. And the foundation isn’t stable anymore."

That shut him up.

Not because he agreed—Philip hated losing control—but because Val was right, and he knew it.

She moved past him, disengaging from the post-presentation whirlwind the way only Val could: neatly, decisively, without apology.

Another team was being called already, the eighth company, their footsteps echoing down the hallway. Moreau Dynamics shifted toward the side of the corridor, making space.

Philip tried again, more careful this time. "Director Hansley... she looked surprised didn’t she?"

"She expected us to dominate the room," Val replied. "When we didn’t, she knew something was off."

Philip swallowed. "That answer you gave about submitting an amended breakdown... what exactly were you implying?"

"That we need time to restructure our foundation before anyone asks for numbers we can’t defend," she replied calmly.

Someone behind him let out a quiet breath.

Philip didn’t comment. Couldn’t.

He just nodded.

Val walked toward the seating area, choosing a quiet corner instead of returning to her team. They needed space—to process the hit, to recalibrate, to accept that the narrative had changed.

She didn’t linger though.

Without a word to anyone, she left the venue alone. One of the Moreau cars was already waiting outside, and she slid into the back seat, shutting the door with a finality that said she was done for the day.

The driver didn’t ask where to go. Val simply told him to take her home, her gaze fixed on the window the entire ride.

---

By the time I got back to the office, the mood on the floor felt completely different from the way Val’s car must’ve felt on her ride home. I didn’t know she’d already left alone—not yet—but even without knowing, the contrast between our worlds was clear.

The minute I stepped out of the elevator, I could feel it.

That... buzz.

Not loud. Not chaotic.

More like a quiet kind of electricity running under everyone’s steps.

People weren’t shouting or celebrating, but you could see the excitement in the way they carried themselves. Two analysts were talking near the glass wall, hands moving fast as if they couldn’t hold in their energy. A soft laugh came from the break room. Even the interns—who tried their hardest to act calm—had eyes that kept lighting up.

Everyone felt it.

We did well.

And now all we had to do was wait for Monday.

"Monday can’t come quick enough," a voice said somewhere behind me.

And yeah... that was the truth.

Results Monday.

Three days of waiting.

Three days of pretending to be normal.

I dropped into my chair, let my back sink into it, and let the air leave my chest in one long stretch. My computer screen lit up with the usual dashboard, but honestly? I didn’t feel like looking at numbers yet. Not after the rush of finishing that pitch.

A second later, I heard the familiar squeak-thump of the chair next to mine. Derrick’s chair. That sound always gave away his arrival before his voice ever did.

He didn’t turn to me at first. He just leaned back, hands behind his head, letting the chair tilt like he owned the whole floor.

"So," he said, dragging the word out. "How did it go, Professor?"

I let out a small laugh. "Pretty good."

"Pretty good? That’s it?" He tilted his head toward me, eyebrows raised. "You came back walking like you solved world hunger. Don’t ’pretty good’ me."

"It went great," I admitted, feeling the smile I’d been holding break through. "Everything hit exactly where we aimed. No glitches. No awkward pauses. No confused looks from the board. The system demo ran smooth too. They were locked in."

Derrick whistled low. "Look at you. First project with your new team and you already talking like one of the veterans."

I shrugged, but inside?

I was glowing.

Not loud glowing.

The quiet kind... the one that warms your chest and makes you sit a little taller.

Derrick spun in his chair once, then leaned forward on his desk. "So basically, you guys cooked."

"We cooked," I repeated. "Yeah. We really did."

"Love that for you." His tone was half genuine, half teasing—classic Derrick.

We sat there for a moment, both of us letting the normal office background noise settle in around us. Keyboards tapping. Printers starting and stopping. Someone walking fast down the hall like they were late for something but probably weren’t.

The good, steady kind of workday noise.

Then Derrick nudged my chair with his foot.

] "So... how do you think Moreau Dynamics did?" he asked casually.

Too casually.

And it hit me like someone flicked a switch.

My good mood didn’t vanish, not completely. But it dipped—just a small shift, like the light in a room dimming for half a second. Most people wouldn’t even notice it.

Derrick wasn’t "most people," though.

He saw my reaction. His eyes narrowed a bit, but he didn’t say anything.

"Why’re you asking me that?" I said, trying to deflect it with a small laugh. "You think I got some spy in their office giving me updates?"

"You’re married to one of the heirs of the company," he replied, deadpan.

"And?" I shot back.

] "And that means you know things."

"I don’t."

Which was true.

I didn’t know anything about how their presentation went. I didn’t know how the board reacted. I didn’t know if they hit their points or if something went wrong. I didn’t even know if Val spoke once or stayed silent the whole time.

I didn’t know anything. Not yet

But something tugged at me anyway.

But I wasn’t going to unpack that here. Not now. Not with half the office walking around.

I leaned back, forcing the playful tone back into my voice. "Anyway, Monday will tell us everything. No need to stress now."

Derrick gave me a look. One of those I heard what you said but also what you didn’t say looks.

But he let it go.

"Fine, fine," he said, waving a hand. "I’ll wait till Monday like a normal human being. Just know that if we win, I’m rubbing it in somebody’s face."

I shook my head, still smiling. The two of us fell into the usual rhythm—small jokes, small comments, small distractions from the work waiting on our screens. It was comforting.

But every now and then... something hit the back of my mind.

Val.

Not her voice. Not her face.

Just... the thought of her.

Was she still at the venue?

Did her team stay behind to regroup?

Did they go back to the office as a group?

Did she eat?

Did she talk to someone?

Was she okay?

I pushed those thoughts aside.

Not because I didn’t care.

But because my workday wasn’t done yet, and thinking too much wouldn’t help.

Besides, I planned to check on her after work.

After things slowed down.

After I got out of here.

Not knowing she was already home... already in silence.

Already dealing with a weight she had expected, and a disappointment she never said out loud.

But that part...

I wouldn’t learn until later.

For now, all I had was the buzz of victory in my office, Derrick’s sarcasm beside me, and the strange, quiet feeling that the day wasn’t over yet.

---

To be continued...