Chapter 61

The office was a storm waiting to happen. The air just felt different that morning, charged, tense and alive with the kind of energy that could either build something brilliant or tear it apart.

Even before I stepped out of the elevator that morning, I could feel it, the pulse of urgency humming through the air, the sharp clip of heels against marble, the tight voices carrying across the reception area.

Sinclair Enterprises always thrummed with energy, but this was different. This wasn’t the calm efficiency of a well oiled machine. This was pressure, coiling tighter by the day. The launch was close enough to touch, and everyone knew it.

People moved quickly through the hallways, clutching folders, tablets, and cups of coffee like lifelines. Everyone could feel the tension and it showed on every face I passed. Conversations were clipped, footsteps quicker, and no one lingered long enough to exchange anything more than a quick nod.

The receptionist barely had time to look up before handing me a folder, rattling off something about a supplier contract that needed immediate review. Down the hall, one of the junior designers was half running with a roll of mock up prints under her arm. Phones rang, printers whirred, voices traded updates in rapid fire moments.

For a moment, I let the chaos distract me. It was easier to keep my eyes on the shifting current of people than on the thought that had been stalking me all week which was that I still hadn’t told Drew about the baby.

The conversation with my parents still echoed in my head. My mom’s calm insistence that I tell Drew about the baby before Max used it against me and my dad’s fierce promise that I wasn’t alone. I had made up my mind that night. But making a decision and finding the right moment to act on it were two different things.

I had promised myself I would. I had even rehearsed how I would start, how I would keep my voice steady and my eyes level when I said the words. But every day I would walk into this building and find him already halfway through a meeting, or on the phone, or reviewing launch materials with a focus so sharp it felt wrong to interrupt.

This week has been worse. It was as though the closer we got to the launch, the further away he became. Even after I left for the night, his office light burned late, the shadow of his figure moving across the blinds while the rest of the building slept.

There was no space for a conversation like this, not between supplier negotiations, investor calls, and whatever else he was doing behind those closed doors.

And yet… I didn’t know how much longer I could wait.

Max’s silence was an alarm I couldn’t turn off. I didn’t know whether Drew’s plans had already reached him or whether they were still in motion, but the fact that Max hadn’t called, texted, or tried to corner me somewhere left me uneasy.

Max didn’t sit quietly when things went wrong. He would push back, lash out and make sure he gets back at you.

The longer the quiet stretched, the more certain I became that it would end badly.

I slid into my chair, pulling the folder closer, letting the neat black text blur into meaningless lines as my mind looped back to the same questions. If Max came for me, would he tell Drew? Would he make the baby sound like part of some plot? Would Drew look at me and see someone he couldn’t trust?

I shook the thought off and tried to focus.

The morning blurred into a rhythm of emails, cross checks, and hurried conversations with colleagues. The buzz of the office wrapped around me, its noise almost comforting. It wasn’t until I had been sitting for nearly an hour that I noticed the shift.

It started as a ripple, a pause in the flow of movement near the reception area, a subtle break in the hum of conversation. I heard the faint click of the outer door opening, followed by footsteps that didn’t match the usual tempo of the building.

Slow at first. Then faster.

I didn’t look up immediately, people came and went all the time but then a voice cut through the noise like glass breaking on marble.

“Where the hell is Drew Sinclair?”

My head snapped up so fast it made my neck ache.

Max.

He wasn’t just here. He was storming through the room, every inch of him radiating a heat that made the air feel heavier. His suit was perfectly in place, but there was nothing composed about the way he moved. His shoulders were tight, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the desk where Drew’s secretary sat frozen.

The whole office went still.

The conversations stopped. Phones stayed unanswered on the second ring. Even the hum of the printer in the corner felt like it had dropped away.

People didn’t just look at Max, they stared, watching as if they had just stumbled onto a car crash and couldn’t look away. Every head turned toward the man radiating anger in an office where control and composure were currency.

My stomach dropped.

Before I even knew what I was doing, I was out of my chair, weaving between desks, my pulse hammering in my ears. I reached him just as he came to a stop in front of the secretary’s desk.

“Max…”

His head snapped toward me, his eyes sharp enough to cut. “Where is he?”

The tightness in my chest spiked. “You need to calm down,” I said quickly, keeping my voice low. “Let’s go outside. We can talk there.”

His head snapped toward me, and for a moment I saw a flicker of something almost like betrayal in his eyes.

“No.” The word landed like a slam of a door. “I’m not going anywhere until I see him.”

“Max, please…” I tried again, my hand lightly touching his arm.

He shook it off like my touch burned. “Don’t please me, don’t start,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Do you have any idea what he’s done? Do you have any idea what kind of games he’s playing?”

The secretary flinched when his glare shifted back to her. “Call him. Now.”

She hesitated, her eyes darting toward me like I might have the authority to step in. “Mr. Sinclair is in a meeting”

“I don’t give a damn what he’s in,” Max said, leaning forward, his hands flat on the desk. “Either you call him, or I walk through that door myself.”

I glanced around, too many eyes, too much attention. “This isn’t the place for this Max”

“It’s exactly the place,” Max cut in, his voice rising. “I want everyone in this damn office to hear it when I tell him to his face”

“Max.”

A few heads popped up over the cubicle walls. I could feel the weight of the office’s attention pressing down on us, the unspoken curiosity sharp enough to prick my skin.

He turned on me again, and for a second, I saw something flicker in his expression, anger, yes, but something else too. A warning. “Stay out of this, Lila. This is between me and him.”

No, I thought. This was between all three of us. Whether I liked it or not.

The entire office was holding its breath now. Phones weren’t ringing, keyboards weren’t clicking. Every single person was pretending to keep working while shamelessly watching the scene unfold.

“Max, listen to me please”

“I said no!” His voice boomed, making the receptionist’s pen slip from her fingers and clatter to the desk. “This is exactly where this needs to happen.”

The tension was suffocating now.

And then

The sound of a door opening cut through it all.

The sound cut through everything, through the low hum of whispered speculation, through the static of my own panic.

Drew stepped out of his office, the light behind him casting his frame in sharp relief. He didn’t rush. He didn’t frown. He didn’t have to. The weight of his presence shifted the room instantly.

His eyes swept over the scene, the frozen secretary, Max boiling with rage, me standing too close to both of them.

The air felt like it was pressing down on us, nobody moved or said a word.

His voice was cold enough to freeze up glass.

“Who,” he asked, “the hell is disrupting business in my company?”