Valentine's Bite

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re on the brink of death. I always thought it was a cliché—something I’d scoff at while sipping champagne at an over-the-top party.

Funny thing is, lying here on the cold asphalt road, blood pooling beneath me, my life is flashing. Not as a neat montage, but in fragments and shards.

My name is Valentine Sutton. Valentine, because I was born on Valentine’s Day—yes, exactly the kind of overdone sentiment my mother adored. I have two older brothers, both taller, stronger, and—according to my father—better at everything. And then there was me. The youngest. The girl everyone underestimated.

Tonight should have been a celebration.

The Christmas party at my parents’ estate just outside New York City had been lavish. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, live jazz drifted through the ballroom, and waiters glided between guests with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres that cost more than most people’s rent. Women shimmered in evening gowns heavy with diamonds; men preened in tuxedos, flashing platinum cufflinks and watches worth small fortunes.

For once, it felt good to breathe—to laugh, to mingle, to pretend I wasn’t running on fumes. The Christmas season was our busiest time of year, and we’d earned this.

After changing into my gown in my old bedroom, I headed downstairs to see if I could help with anything. Passing my father’s study, I heard voices and slowed.

“Dad, are you sure about this?” my brother Dylan asked. “I know I’m ready, but I thought you’d stay on board for another year.”

“If I don’t step down now, I don’t think I ever will,” my father replied. “With all three of you together, the company’s in good hands.”

“What about Uncle Donovan?” Parker asked. “There’s evidence against him, sure—but should we really push him off the board? He’s family. He’s your brother.”

“That will be for the new CEO to decide,” my father said. “I love my brother, and I’ll help him however I can. Leave that to me.”

New CEO.

My father was retiring. Which meant I’d be reporting directly to one of my brothers.

They loved me—at least in the way older brothers love their baby sister—but to them I was more nuisance than necessity. They were close in age, barely two years apart, inseparable long before I came along.

When I joined the company, they were convinced I’d be dead weight. Instead, I became indispensable. Efficient enough that they could vacation in the Bahamas while I handled meetings, documentation, and transactions—reporting, always, to my father.

Still, I knew better than to dream. I would never be CEO. The Sutton name was temporary for me. Once I married—something my brothers conveniently reminded me of whenever ownership came up—my name would be hyphenated, or erased entirely, absorbed into my husband’s.

Dinner was exquisite. Creamy soup, crisp buttered vegetables, filet mignon cooked to perfection, and a chocolate soufflé so decadent it felt criminal to leave even a bite behind.

When the last plates were cleared, my father stepped onto the small stage in the ballroom, microphone in hand.

“May I have everyone’s attention,” he said. “First, I want to congratulate all of you on a job well done. Not only did we meet the demands of the Christmas season—we surpassed our projected profits.”

Applause rippled through the room. I clapped harder than most. December has meant two to four hours of sleep a night for me, thanks to my brothers. As usual, I’d carried the weight—because to them, I’d never truly proven I was capable of running a multimillion-dollar company.

“As they say, all good things must come to an end,” my father continued. “My father, my brother, and I built this company together. Before my father ever got to retire and enjoy life, he fell ill. I’ve spent my life building this company, and though it’s taken much of my time, I’ve been blessed with three smart, hardworking children—Dylan, Parker, and of course, my little Valentine.”

I glanced at my brothers at the nearby table. They wore smug, satisfied smiles—proud, confident, already celebrating what they assumed was inevitable.

“I don’t want my story to end the way my father’s did,” my dad said. “I want to enjoy life. Play golf. Teach my grandkids a thing or two. Walk in the park with my wife. Maybe even learn how to fly a plane while I’m still healthy. So tonight, before the new year begins, I’m announcing my retirement. I am formally stepping down as CEO of Sutton Shipping International, and I have chosen my successor to be…”

It would be one of my brothers.

I rose, intending to slip off to the restroom. It didn’t matter. I was used to reporting to them anyway.

“My only daughter, Valentine Sutton. Starting next year, she will be the new CEO of Sutton Shipping International.”

I froze mid-step, my heart slamming violently against my ribs.

“And there she is,” my father said as a spotlight found me. I turned, smiling on instinct, breath coming fast, eyes wide with shock. “Valentine Lorraine Sutton—your new CEO. Come up here, honey.”

My legs felt like lead as I walked to the stage. A server pressed a glass of champagne into my hand just as my father pulled me into a hug.

“I know with Valentine’s dedication, she’ll turn Sutton Shipping into a global logistics empire,” he said, raising his glass. “To you.”

I followed his lead and drank.

I pinched myself, half-convinced this was a dream.

Or maybe a surreal nightmare.

The tension in the room was unmistakable. My brothers clapped politely, their smiles tight and brittle. Their wives didn’t bother to hide their displeasure—their grim expressions said enough. At the bar, Uncle Donovan leaned back with his arms crossed, his jaw locked in a sour, unimpressed line I’d inherited from neither parent.

Smiling beside my father, I didn’t yet understand that by the time the world caught up, I’d be fighting for far more than a corner office.