Chapter 77

Lila’s POV

Silence.

It became the fourth presence in Drew’s penthouse, thick and heavy, pressing down on me like a fog I couldn’t escape. After that night in his office, after the way he caught me holding the frame that contained the sonogram, everything shifted. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t violent. No, Drew was far more ruthless than that.

He shut me out completely.

The next morning, when I woke up, I expected maybe some kind of conversation. Maybe anger, maybe questions, maybe even a demand for me to leave. But when I stepped out into the living room, the penthouse was empty. His briefcase was gone, I checked around and his shoes were also gone. He was gone. Just like that, without a word.

He had left before I even opened my eyes.

And when he returned that evening, the only sound was the quiet thud of the door and the low echo of his footsteps. I stood from the couch, relief rushing through me at the sight of him, and forced a smile.

“Welcome back,” I said softly.

Nothing. Not even a glance in my direction. He walked right past me, his broad shoulders rigid under his suit jacket, his expression unreadable. The air shifted with his presence, but he gave me nothing. No words. No acknowledgment. Just the sound of his footsteps fading down the hallway to his room.

That became our rhythm.

Every morning, he was gone before I woke up and in the night when he returned, he was silent and cold, brushing past me like I wasn’t even there. And every single time, I tried. I greeted him. I smiled. I waited, hoping for a flicker of the Drew who had tended to my bruises, the Drew who had forced me to eat when I hadn’t wanted to, the Drew who had sat across from me with his head in his hands like he was drowning.

But all I got was silence.

It began to chip at me, little by little. At first, I told myself to let it go that he needed space, that maybe I had crossed a line stepping into his office. But as the days crawled on, I could feel my patience thinning. The penthouse was too quiet, too calm, and the silence between us was louder than any argument we could have had.

And through it all, my mind kept circling back to that frame.

The sonogram.

That tiny, grainy black and white image haunted me. It wasn’t just a picture; it was a story I didn’t know, a piece of him locked behind walls he refused to open.

I couldn’t shake it off. Every time I looked at him, every time he ignored me, I wondered if the weight of that picture was what kept him silent.

So I started trying to piece things together.

The only woman Drew had ever been publicly linked to was Kimberley. From the stories I heard, they've been together for a very long time even though Kimberley’s parents were against the relationship. Drew wasn't always the rich, wealthy business tycoon with a large enterprise so her parents didn't want Drew for her.

But their breakup had been as sudden as it was clean. No scandal, no whispers, it just ended like that. And never once had there been mention of a child.

If the sonogram was hers, if it belonged to them… why had no one known? Why had it been hidden away, framed and tucked into the shadows of his private office?

But maybe it wasn’t Kimberley's at all. Maybe it belonged to someone else, someone the world never even knew existed.

The thought made my stomach twist.

Drew never talked about his family. Not once since I had met him. No parents. No siblings. Nothing. He was always just… Drew Sinclair, the man who built an empire out of thin air, the man who lived in steel and brass fortresses where no one could reach him.

So I did the only thing I could do. I searched.

I picked up my phone, my hands trembling slightly as I typed his name into the search bar.

“Drew Sinclair.”

The results were exactly what I expected. Article after article about his company, his wealth, his ruthlessness in business. Flawless headshots, press interviews, boardroom photos where his expression was sharp and unreadable.

But nothing else.

No family ties. No mentions of parents. No casual photos. No soft edges.

So I searched again.

“Drew Sinclair's family.”

The screen blinked, refreshed, and for a moment, I held my breath.

But the result was blank.

No records. No mentions. Nothing but silence staring back at me.

It made my heart pound harder. How could a man so visible to the world leave no trace of where he came from? How could there be nothing, not even a whisper of the people who made him who he was?

I dropped the phone onto the couch beside me and pressed my palms to my eyes. None of it made sense. The frame, the silence, the blank pages of his past. It was like he had erased every trace of himself except the empire he built.

And yet… when I thought of the way he had looked at that sonogram, the way his knuckles had gone white around the frame, I knew it wasn’t erased.

It was buried.

The clock ticked quietly in the corner of the room, the sound almost mocking in the stillness. I sat there for what felt like hours, curled into the couch, lost in thoughts that refused to quiet down.

That was when I heard it, the familiar sound of the lock turning and the door swinging open.

Drew was back from work.

I straightened quickly, smoothing my cardigan, as though preparing myself for another round of being invisible. His figure filled the doorway, sharp lines and silent shadows. He set his briefcase down with practiced ease, loosened his tie, and began walking toward the hall.

I stood. My heart thudded.

“Welcome back,” I said, my voice a little firmer this time.

Just like before, he did not answer. His stride didn’t falter. His eyes didn’t even flick in my direction. He just kept walking, the same heavy silence trailing behind him.

Something in me just snapped.

“Are you not tired of this silent treatment game?”

The words left my mouth sharper than I intended, cutting through the air like a blade. I wanted to take back the words immediately but the damage had been done already.

His steps faltered. He stopped mid stride, his back still to me and his hand tightening around the strap of his briefcase.

He had stopped.

And for the first time in days, I had his attention.