Chapter 71: A War Declared

The press conference was broadcast live on all major news networks.

My image dominated the screen, with bold headlines declaring betrayal. The terms espionage, sabotage, and criminal investigation seared into my mind like acid. Senator Richard Sinclair stood behind a gleaming podium, flanked by flags and security personnel, his voice calm, authoritative, and tinged with malice.

"My daughter, Elena Sinclair, has acted against the interests of this nation, this family, and the people who placed their trust in her. I had no choice but to bring this matter to light. I will not tolerate corruption—even when it comes from within."

I was frozen in the living room of the Long Island estate, with Dominic beside me, his arm gripping my shoulders tightly. Olivia gasped quietly. Victor remained silent—just staring at the screen, as if he were witnessing a ghost rise from a grave he thought was sealed.

Liam muttered curses under his breath and hurled the remote across the room.

"He’s manipulating you," Dominic said in a low voice. "This is his retaliation. He realized we were on the verge of revealing him, so he struck first."

I stood up, my heart racing in my ears. "He has cast me as the villain. He has turned everything upside down. Who in the world does that to their own child?"

"Someone who has nothing to lose," Victor replied grimly.

Olivia nodded in agreement. "And someone who realizes that the walls are closing in."

I began to pace the room, my heart pounding, my mind already working through the implications. “If he’s doing this publicly, it means he’s concealing something larger. This is merely a distraction. A power move."

Dominic followed closely behind me, stepping in front until I had no choice but to look up at him.

“Elena. You need to keep a low profile.”

“I’m not fleeing—”

"I’m not making a request." His voice was low but held the sharpness I remembered from our earliest confrontations. "You’re being depicted as a traitor. The FBI will be all over this within twenty-four hours. If you stay in the city, it’s the end for you. No more journalism. No more identity. No more future."

My throat constricted. "So what—am I supposed to cower in the shadows while my father publicly destroys me?"

His hands tenderly held my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "No. You will remain in the shadows while I dismantle everything he has built. Piece by piece."

My eyes watered, but I held back the tears. "He’s still my father."

"And mine tried to kill the woman he loved," Dominic responded bitterly. "We are both children of monsters, Elena. But we don’t have to become like them."

A lengthy silence ensued.

Then Liam spoke up, “I know where Richard keeps his personal files. The real ones. Not the redacted nonsense. They’re stored in the private vault at the Sinclair family lake house in upstate New York.”

Everyone turned to him, stunned.

Victor raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been to the lake house?”

“Yeah,” Liam replied with a casual shrug. “A few years back. Elena invited me for the Fourth of July.”

I blinked in surprise. "That was forever ago. We barely even spoke that weekend."

"You were too busy hating me," he shot back with a grin.

I rolled my eyes, but a small smile began to form on my lips. "Well, some things never change."

Dominic cleared his throat rather loudly.

Liam raised both hands in defense. "Relax, brother. I’m not here to steal your girl. I just want to help take down her father."

"You’re such a romantic," I said dryly.

Olivia stepped forward. "That vault is digital. He used biometric access—fingerprint and retinal scan."

I frowned. "How do you know that?"

She glanced at Victor. "Because I helped him build it."

Of course she did.

"Can you still access it?" Dominic asked.

"Not without a retinal scan from Richard or Elena," she answered. "But if we can get close enough to the system, I can temporarily bypass it using Elena’s DNA and a bypass algorithm."

I raised a brow. “That sounded disturbingly easy.”

“It’s not,” she said. “But it’s doable.”

Victor turned to Dominic. “We’ll need a distraction in the city. Something big enough to keep the media busy while you’re at the lake house.”

Dominic nodded slowly. “Leave that to me.”

“Wait.” I crossed my arms. “You’re not seriously planning to split up, are you?”

“Elena,” Dominic said softly, stepping toward me again. “You’re already being hunted. If they know we’re working together, you’ll lose whatever shred of credibility you have left. But if you disappear now, it gives them less to chase—and gives us time to hit them where it hurts.”

I hated it. Every logical part of me agreed—but the rest of me? The emotional, reckless part that had fallen for the enemy? It screamed no.

“I don’t like this,” I muttered.

Dominic’s lips curved into a small, crooked smile. “That’s how I know it’s going to work.”

Twelve Hours Later – Sinclair Lake House

The storm hit just after midnight, shrouding the forest in thick clouds and thunder that echoed through the trees like distant gunfire. Rain hammered against the car's roof as we drove up the overgrown driveway.

“This place hasn’t seen a soul in years,” Liam commented, turning off the engine. “Which means we’re either about to find treasure… or walk into a trap.”

Olivia turned to him. “Optimism isn’t really your strong suit, is it?”

Liam grinned. “My strong suit is survival. So let’s move quickly.”

The house loomed ahead, dark and silent. The windows were boarded up. The front door creaked as we stepped inside.

Dust. Silence. History embedded in the floorboards.

I walked slowly down the corridor, my fingers gliding over the wood-paneled walls.

I had spent summers here. Learned to swim in the lake. Built sandcastles on the beach with a father who once felt invincible.

And now?

He had turned into my greatest enemy.

“The vault is in the study,” Olivia noted.

We reached the double doors at the end of the corridor and stepped inside. The study was untouched. A time capsule.

Victor flicked on the desk lamp, illuminating the painting above the fireplace.

“Behind that,” Olivia indicated.

Liam approached the painting and pressed a concealed panel. The wall clicked.

And slid open.

The vault door stood large, both gleaming and intimidating.

“Here goes nothing,” Olivia whispered.

She stepped forward, attached a small portable device, and gestured for me. “Elena, I need your eye.”

“Sounds foreboding.”

I leaned closer, allowing the scanner to read me. The device beeped.

Access granted.

The vault hissed open.

What we discovered inside left us all in shock.

Countless files. Tangible records. USB drives. Photographs.

But at the heart of it all—perched on a black velvet stand—lay a red leather journal.

Emblazoned with the Sinclair crest in gold.

And my name etched on the cover.

Elena Sinclair.

"What the hell..." I exclaimed in surprise.

Liam tried to grab it, but I stopped him.

This was not just a vault.

It was a confession.

And I wasn't sure I was ready for what it might reveal.