The Panic at Hayes Manor

Alexander’s POV

The Mercedes Maybach hit eighty on the private mountain road before I even touched the brakes. My knuckles tightened around the steering wheel while Caleb sat beside me, staring straight ahead with his palms pressed against his knees to hide their trembling.

Neither of us had spoken since leaving Sinclair Tower.

My mind kept replaying fragments of memories. Isabelle in her oversized sweaters, arranging fresh flowers on the breakfast table. Isabelle quietly pouring my tea while my mother criticized her manners. Isabelle sitting alone at the drafting table late into the night, rubbing her tired eyes as she worked on the load calculations for the Grand Hayes atrium.

The sole heiress of Sinclair Enterprises.

"It's a con," I muttered, the words scraping my throat. "It has to be. Spencer Sinclair is using her. They found out she drew the layouts and paid her to pretend she's their sister."

Caleb turned toward me, his face pale. "Mr. Hayes, Lancer doesn't represent impostors. Spencer and Lyon Sinclair bowed to her. That family controls half the deep-water shipping lanes and eighty percent of the commercial debt along the coast. You can't buy that kind of loyalty with a divorce settlement."

"Shut up," I hissed, swerving through the iron gates of Hayes Manor.

I put the car in park before the entrance, threw open the door, and took the steps three at a time. The moment I entered the foyer, I heard someone crying upstairs. The sound echoed through the house.

"Alexander!"

My mother rushed down the staircase, her face pale and her lavender gown crumpled. She looked almost frantic with fear.

"Tell me it's not true!" Eleanor cried, grabbing my forearms with trembling fingers. "Tell me that ungrateful wretch was lying!"

"She called you?" I demanded.

"I called the sitting room to see if she had come back for her jewelry!" Eleanor shrieked. "And she answered! She said she was at Sinclair Tower! She said she owned the debt, the buildings, everything! Alexander, call Judge Harrison! Have the police arrest her for fraud!"

"The governor receives his political donations from Sinclair holding funds, Mother," I snapped, pulling away from her. "Who told you to call her?"

A door opened along the gallery.

Vanessa stepped out, wrapped in a white robe, one hand resting gently on her stomach.

"Alexander..." she whimpered, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. "Is it true? The servants say the company is in trouble because of me. The stock has dropped twelve percent, and everyone is calling you a thief. If I'm ruining your life, I'll take the baby and leave..."

Seven hours ago, her tears would have stirred my instinct to protect her. Now, looking at her, I felt only a sickening pressure building behind my temples.

"Go back to bed, Vanessa," I said flatly.

She blinked, her tears stopping. "Alexander?"

"Go back to your suite," I repeated, throwing my jacket onto the settee. "I have five hundred shareholders demanding answers by six o'clock. I don't have time to play nurse."

Vanessa shrank against the wall as if I had slapped her.

"Alexander, how can you speak to her like that?" Eleanor scolded, though her voice lacked its usual confidence. "She's carrying your child!"

"And who pays for this house when the banks freeze our funds, Mother?" I roared, turning on her. My anger made her stumble backward. "Who pays the mortgage? Who pays four hundred employees when the commerce bureau shuts down the Grand Hayes tomorrow at noon?"

The foyer fell silent.

Eleanor's hand flew to her throat. "It's... really her? That quiet girl... the orphan who served my tea?"

"She was never an orphan," I said through clenched teeth. "She was Katherine Sinclair's daughter. And we threw her out with nothing but a duffel bag."

Caleb stepped through the front entrance, still clutching his tablet.

"Mr. Hayes," he said quietly. "Three private equity firms have just withdrawn their syndicated bridge loans, citing the intellectual property investigation. The secondary bond market is also selling off our commercial notes at forty cents on the dollar."

Forty cents. In six hours, our market value had dropped by nearly fifty million.

"Call Sterling Capital," I ordered, pacing across the marble floor. "We have fifteen regional properties—"

"The regional properties depend on the income from the Grand Hayes," Caleb interrupted bluntly. "If Harynx calls in the forty-five million in callable notes, every dollar in our accounts could be seized. We won't even be able to meet Friday's payroll."

"She wants to destroy us," Eleanor whimpered, sinking onto the bottom step. "She wants to throw us out onto the street..."

I stopped pacing.

I loved you, Alexander. I wanted a man who valued me for who I was, not for the Sinclair billions.

Her words echoed in my mind. She hadn't shouted or lost her temper. She had sat there with the cold composure of an empress, watching me dig my own grave.

"She won't let the company go into liquidation," I said, trying to hold on to a desperate hope. "She spent seven years building this brand with me. She loved me. You don't erase seven years in twenty-four hours. She's angry. She wants to see me sweat. She wants me to crawl back and beg."

I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

The call didn't ring. Instead, an automated voice informed me that the number was no longer in service.

A knot tightened in my stomach. I cursed under my breath and immediately called Lancer's private office. The phone rang four times before someone answered.

"Lancer speaking."

"Put her on the phone," I demanded, struggling to catch my breath. "Tell Isabelle I'm ready to talk. I'll give her fifty percent equity in Hayes Hospitality Group. I'll publicly credit her on every blueprint in the country!"

A long silence followed.

"Mr. Hayes," Lancer finally said, his voice smooth and professional. "Miss Sinclair does not negotiate with insolvent debtors. Furthermore, the board has just appointed Miss Isabelle Sinclair as Executive Vice President of Sinclair Global Developments."

My breath caught. "What?"

"Her first official act," Lancer continued, "was to sign the acquisition mandate for Hayes Hospitality Group's distressed debt notes. We now hold eighty-five percent of your company's total liabilities."

I heard the faint rustling of paper on the other end.

"Miss Sinclair asked me to relay a personal message to you, Mr. Hayes."

"What message?" I choked out.

"She says, 'Keep your fifty percent equity. Within thirty days, I will buy your entire kingdom from the auction block for a penny on the dollar.'"

The line went dead.

My phone slipped from my numb fingers and hit the floor with a sharp crack that echoed through the foyer.