The silence stretched between us, thick with something unspoken.
Dominic’s jaw was tense, his fingers gripping the phone so tightly I thought he might crush it. His eyes—dark, intense, unreadable—were locked on mine.
I forced myself to breathe. “Who was she last seen with, Dominic?”
He hesitated.
Then— “Julian Hale.”
The name hit me like a slap.
I swayed slightly, gripping the edge of his desk. “That’s not possible.”
Julian Hale was a ghost from my past. A name I hadn’t heard in years.
A man I had once trusted—once loved.
He had been my closest friend in college. The golden boy with an easy smile and a mind sharp enough to cut through steel. We had been inseparable—until he vanished without a word, leaving behind only whispers of scandal and betrayal.
And now, my sister had disappeared, last seen with him?
My stomach twisted.
“What the hell does Julian have to do with this?”
Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what I intend to find out.”
I shook my head. “No. I intend to find out.”
His eyes flashed. “Sinclair—”
I cut him off. “You knew Thea was missing. You knew she was supposed to be your wife. And yet, you didn’t tell me.” My voice was ice. “So forgive me if I don’t trust you to handle this alone.”
His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “Trust me or not, you need me.”
I hated that he was right.
But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
I crossed my arms. “Fine. Then let’s start with the obvious—where the hell is Julian Hale now?”
Dominic’s expression darkened. “That’s the problem.”
My pulse quickened.
“He’s missing too.”
****
We didn’t waste time.
Thirty minutes later, we were standing in front of a high-end apartment complex on the Upper East Side. It was sleek, modern, and eerily silent for a building that housed some of New York’s wealthiest residents.
Dominic’s security team had already swept the place. The door to Julian’s penthouse was unlocked.
We stepped inside.
The air was stale, like no one had been there for days. The living room was immaculate—too clean.
Like someone had wiped it down.
Dominic prowled through the space, his gaze sharp. “Something’s off.”
I nodded. “Yeah. This place doesn’t look lived in. It looks… staged.”
We moved deeper inside. The kitchen was spotless, the fridge nearly empty except for a few bottles of water and expensive liquor. The bedroom—minimalist, barely personal. No framed photos, no scattered clothes.
It was like Julian had vanished into thin air.
And then, in the study, we found it.
A single note.
Slipped under a paperweight on the desk.
I picked it up, my fingers trembling slightly as I read the message.
You’re asking the wrong questions.
Thea didn’t run.
She was taken.
I felt the breath leave my lungs.
Dominic read over my shoulder, his expression turning to steel.
“Taken by who?” I whispered.
Neither of us had an answer.
****
We barely made it down to the parking garage before everything went to hell.
The moment we stepped out of the elevator, I felt it.
A shift in the air.
A presence.
Then—
Bang.
A gunshot shattered the silence.
Dominic shoved me behind him, his body pressing mine against the concrete wall as another bullet ricocheted off a parked car.
“Move!” he ordered.
I didn’t argue. We darted between vehicles, keeping low. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to make sense of what was happening.
Who the hell was shooting at us?
Dominic reached for the gun holstered beneath his jacket and returned fire. The shots echoed through the garage. Tires screeched as a black SUV peeled out of a parking spot, speeding toward the exit.
“Get the plate number!” Dominic barked.
I squinted through the dim lighting, barely catching the first few digits before the vehicle disappeared.
We were left standing in the eerie silence, the acrid scent of gunpowder lingering in the air.
I turned to Dominic, breathless. “They were waiting for us.”
His jaw clenched. “Someone doesn’t want us asking questions.”
I swallowed hard. “Then we must be getting close.”
****
We drove back to Dominic’s penthouse in silence.
I stared out the window, my mind racing. Thea hadn’t run. She had been taken. And Julian—was he involved? Or had he disappeared trying to protect her?
Too many questions. Not enough answers.
By the time we arrived at Dominic’s place, I felt the exhaustion settling into my bones. But the moment we stepped inside, my phone buzzed.
A blocked number.
I hesitated. Then answered.
“Elena Sinclair.”
A voice I hadn’t heard in years filled my ears.
Low. Smooth. Unmistakable.
“Hello, trouble.”
My breath hitched.
“Julian.”
Dominic’s head snapped toward me.
I gripped the phone tighter. “Where the hell are you?”
A chuckle. “Still fiery, I see.” A pause. Then, voice darker— “You need to stop looking for Thea, Elena.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“Walk away. Forget this ever happened.”
Rage flared through me. “Like hell I will.”
Another pause. Then—
“Then you’ll end up just like her.”
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone slowly, my hand shaking.
Dominic’s voice was low, deadly. “What did he say?”
I turned to him, my heart pounding.
“He told me to stop looking for Thea.” I swallowed. “Or I’d end up just like her.”
Dominic’s eyes burned with something dark. “Then we’re closer than I thought.”
A chill ran down my spine.
Because if Julian was warning me away…
It meant we were walking straight into the lion’s den.
****
The room was heavy with silence.
Then—another buzz.
A text message.
I glanced at my phone. My pulse spiked.
It was from Julian.
Meet me. Alone. Midnight. The docks.
Dominic saw the message over my shoulder.
His grip on my wrist was firm, his voice edged with steel.
“You’re not going alone.”
I met his gaze.
“Try and stop me.”
The smoke curled in the air, dancing like a wicked omen.I stared at the man I had called “father” for twenty-eight years—Senator Richard Sinclair—now standing in the doorway of Charles Barron’s study, a smoking pistol in his gloved hand and blood on his conscience. The man I had defended through scandals. The man I had nearly destroyed myself trying to protect.He looked at me like a stranger.“Why?” I croaked, barely able to speak over the thundering pulse in my ears. “Why did you kill him?”Richard stepped forward calmly, as if he hadn’t just shot the only man who could’ve unraveled the twisted threads of my existence.“He was a liability,” he said simply. “And liabilities must be removed.”Dominic moved protectively in front of me, but my father didn’t even glance at him.“This doesn’t make sense,” I said, voice breaking. “You knew Victor was my real father. You knew—and you still arranged the marriage. You let me fall into this nightmare.”Richard’s eyes darkened. “You were never
The silence in the room was suffocating.I stared down at the DNA report, my hands trembling as the implications unraveled inside my mind like a bomb detonating in slow motion. The file said it plainly: a female child was born from Victor Caldwell and Olivia Sinclair. Identity redacted.Dominic stood frozen beside me, the file still open in his hands, but his entire body had gone rigid.I backed away, pulse racing.“This—this has to be a mistake,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “It’s probably someone else. I mean… it could’ve been another child. Someone who died. Maybe it’s not—”“Elena,” Dominic said, his voice tight, low, like it was strangling him. “You were born the year after my father vanished from public life. Right after Olivia disappeared.”“No.” I shook my head, stepping further away, the cold wall biting my back. “Don’t. Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”He slammed the file shut. “We don’t know anything for sure. Not yet.”“But if it’s true,” I choked, “if I’m h
The moment the screen flashed SECURITY BREACH, my heart stuttered.“Dominic…” My voice trembled, barely above a whisper.He was already on his feet, pulling a drawer open to retrieve a concealed weapon, his movements quick, practiced. Liam stood by the window, peeking through the blinds as the wind howled outside, bringing with it the crackling of leaves—too calculated to be natural.“They’re here,” Liam confirmed grimly. “Two vehicles. No plates.”“Stay inside. Both of you,” Dominic growled, his eyes narrowing as he checked the chamber of his gun. “If they get past me, you run. Do you hear me, Elena?”“No.” I stood too, fury surging through my veins. “I’m not leaving you. Not again.”He turned sharply, grabbing my wrist. “This isn’t a debate—”“It never was!” I snapped. “I’ve been used, lied to, manipulated. If someone wants me dead, they’ll have to go through me this time. I’m done being collateral damage.”Liam raised a brow. “She’s got your fire,” he muttered to Dominic.“Worse,”
The vehicle sped through the night like a bullet slicing through the darkness. Rain pounded against the windshield, with the wipers working relentlessly back and forth, yet the constant swish did little to ease the anxiety building in my chest.I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the message on my phone:"You’re next. Just like your mother."Who on earth sent it? How did they know we were so close to the truth?Liam shot me a glance from the driver’s seat, his jaw clenched. He hadn’t said much since we departed from Dominic’s penthouse, but the tension radiating from him in waves spoke volumes. "We’re almost there," he said, his voice sharp. "It’s a Caldwell property. Off-grid, untraceable."I nodded, holding my phone tightly in my lap. My mind was racing—Dominic. The video. My mother. My father’s betrayal. The reality that someone had actually placed a target on my back.“I shouldn’t have left him,” I whispered.Liam’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “He told you to leave. You kn
The old security tape played on the massive screen in Dominic’s study, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The room was dead silent except for the soft whir of the projector and the pounding of my heart. Dominic stood behind me, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze glued to the screen. I sat at the edge of the leather couch, fingers clenched together, trying not to blink.The footage was grainy, the timestamp barely legible—August 17th, 1999—the year before everything in my world fell apart.My mother appeared first. Olivia Sinclair. Younger, but unmistakably her. Dressed in a soft blue coat, her dark hair pulled back in an elegant twist. She looked nervous. Anxious. She kept glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to be followed.Then he appeared.Victor Caldwell.Tall, commanding, and heartbreakingly handsome, even in the pixelated footage. He walked toward her, and the second their hands touched, the air in the room changed.My breath hitched.There was no denying
The rain was a relentless drumbeat on the glass walls of Dominic’s penthouse. Thunder cracked in the distance, nature’s fury echoing the storm inside me. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the woman looking back at me barely recognizable. I wasn’t the same Elena Sinclair who walked into Caldwell Enterprises to take down a dynasty. No. That woman had believed in lines—clear ones, bold ones. Right and wrong. Truth and lies. Love and hate.But now?Now, everything was a blur. A twisted mosaic of betrayal, secrets, and stolen moments.Behind me, the door creaked open, soft footfalls padding into the room. I didn’t need to turn to know it was him.“Elena,” Dominic’s voice was low, hesitant, but still laced with that commanding undertone that always made my chest tighten.I met his eyes in the mirror. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his tie gone, his hair mussed from raking his fingers through it one too many times. But what stru