Chapter 20: An inevitable sacrifice

Mason

However, one unanswered question kept gnawing at my mind.

If Miller could uncover the truth in less than a week with a few phone calls and a security audit, how had no one seen it six years ago?

The scandal had erupted across the entire corporate sector back then. It had rocked the Blake family board, dominated financial tabloids, and threatened a multi-billion-dollar succession vote. Silverstone was packed with high-ranking board members and security personnel that night.

A future CEO’s drink had been tampered with, and not a single soul had raised an eyebrow? It made no fucking sense.

Unless someone had deliberately buried it.

I buzzed Miller back into my office, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Find out who covered everything up back then."

Miller left without a word. Two hours later, he returned, setting a single piece of heavy paper on my desk. It was an internal non-disclosure agreement and a financial clearance authorization from the Blake Family Trust, dated six years ago.

At the bottom of the page, written in sharp, precise, elegant cursive, was the signature of William Blake.

My father.

My stomach dropped into a cold, bottomless pit.

My father was sitting behind his desk when I opened the door to his study, a glass of scotch resting near his hand. Ever since he handed the company to me, he rarely left the estate, even stayed away from family affairs that didn't affect the company.

He was the golden standard I held my life around. Calm, rational, a titan of corporate strategy who governed with logic rather than emotion.

"Mason," he said smoothly, not even bothering to look up from his papers. "You didn't call ahead."

"Did you know?" I asked immediately, not interested in pleasantries.

Father took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink before raising his gray eyes to meet mine. "You'll have to be more specific. I know a great many things."

"Six years ago!" I slammed both hands onto his desk, leaning over the dark wood. "The Silverstone! The media! Catherine! Did you know she had nothing to do with it?"

The room went dead silent.

My father didn't flinch. He didn't look surprised. He simply set his glass down on a leather coaster with a soft, dull sound.

"Why are you bringing up dead history now, Mason?" he asked softly.

"It's not dead history!" I shouted, the noise echoing off the high-vaulted ceiling. "My drink was drugged by Richard Vance! Catherine walked into the wrong room because of a broken door plaque! She was an innocent bystander, and you knew! You knew the whole damn time!"

"And what if I did?" Father replied, his tone chillingly level.

I stared at him, completely paralyzed by the utter lack of remorse in his eyes. "What if you did? You let me believe she set me up! You let the whole family treat her like a calculating gold-digger! Why didn't you tell me?"

Father leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers together.

"Because it didn't matter," Father said coldly.

"It didn't matter?" I choked out, a bitter laugh bubbling up in my throat. "She was just a girl! Her reputation was destroyed!"

"What mattered, Mason, was the survival of L&T Group," Father cut in, his voice hardening into steel. "The board was split down the middle. Vance was closing in. If the media found out you compromised a young girl and didn't take responsibility, you would have looked reckless, and unfit to lead."

He stood up slowly, tall and imposing, looking down at me with a cold, terrifying authority.

"A marriage to an innocent, pregnant intern was a story the board could digest," Father continued smoothly. "It turned a dangerous corporate hit into a domestic responsibility story. You stepped up, you protected the family honor, and you secured your seat as CEO. Did you honestly think you could have won that succession battle without marrying Catherine?"

"She suffered for six years, Dad!" I screamed, tears of pure fury stinging the corners of my eyes. "I spent every single day of my marriage hating her! I punished her! I made her life a living hell because I thought she ruined my life!"

Father walked around the desk, stopping a foot away from me. He looked into my face, his expression totally devoid of warmth.

"Did anyone ever explicitly tell you Catherine was the mastermind, Mason?" he asked softly.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

"No," Father said, a faint, mocking curve touching his lips. "No one ever told you that. I didn't tell you that. Your mother didn't tell you that. You reached that conclusion all by yourself."

"Because the media—"

"Because you were arrogant," Father interrupted, his voice slicing through my excuses. "You were humiliated, your ego was bruised, and you desperately needed someone weak to blame so you wouldn't have to admit you got outmaneuvered. She was an easy target, Mason. And you used her to protect your own pride."

The words hit me, knocking the wind straight out of my chest.

I backed away from him, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.

"You're a monster," I whispered.

"I am a strategist who ensured you kept your empire," Father replied calmly, turning back to his desk. "Go home to your wife, Mason. And stop acting like a victim."

The drive back home was a blur of flashing streetlights and suffocating darkness.

My father’s words kept screaming in my ears.

You used her to protect your own pride.

He was right. God help me, he was right. I hadn't investigated back then because I wanted her to be guilty. I wanted a villain. I wanted someone to carry the weight of my own vulnerability.

I pulled into the driveway. My hands were shaking as I stepped out into the night air.

I had to tell her. She deserved the truth. She deserved to know that the nightmare of her last six years wasn't a tragedy of her own making—it was a corporate hit, covered up by my father and weaponized by me. I was going to drop to my knees, lay the files at her feet, and beg for whatever mercy she had left.

I unlocked the front door and stepped quietly into the foyer.

The house wasn't silent.

Warm light spilled out from the living room archway, accompanied by the sound of high-pitched, infectious giggles.

"No, Mom! Don't let the monster get the dragon!" Mara’s voice squealed with joy.

I stopped near the edge of the hallway, shrinking into the shadows of the archway to look inside.

Catherine was sitting on the plush rug, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, wearing an oversized sweater. She was holding a green plastic dinosaur, making exaggerated, ridiculous roar sounds while Ethan and Mara tumbled over her lap, laughing so hard they were breathless.

"The dragon is too fast!" Catherine laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners, bright and entirely unburdened. "He's going straight for the ice cream mountain!"

Ethan threw his arms around her neck, pressing his face against her cheek, squealing with delight.

I stood in the dark, watching her.

She looked so light. So happy. The heavy, suffocating shadow that had hung over her for six long years was finally beginning to lift. She was building a life, rebuilding her joy, and finding her own peace within the walls of this home.

If I walked in right now and dropped six years of corruption, drugging, and family betrayal onto her shoulders... I would shatter her all over again. I would drag her back into the ugly, toxic mud of the Blake family politics she was finally breaking free from.

My hand rested against the cold frame of the doorway.

I couldn't do it. I couldn't interrupt her happiness.

I took a quiet step backward into the dark hallway, my throat tight, my heart breaking into a thousand jagged pieces as I watched my wife laugh with our children.

I had spent six years giving her hell.

And now, the only way I could protect her... was to carry the guilt alone.​