Chapter 72: Pages of the Past

The moment my fingers touched the leather-bound journal, a chill ran through me.

It was like reaching into the past and pulling forward a ghost.

“Elena,” Liam said softly, his voice uncertain. “You don’t have to read it now.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I do.”

The journal was heavy. Not just in weight—but in meaning. The cover bore my name, but the contents were clearly not mine. When I opened it, I expected business plans, maybe a list of blackmail targets—but what I found instead were journal entries.

Written by Olivia Sinclair.

My breath caught.

The first date at the top was July 19th, 1990. I read aloud, the sound of my mother’s written voice shaking me to my core.

I should stay away from Victor Caldwell. I tell myself this every time I see him. Every time we’re at a charity event or caught alone in the Capitol halls. But then he looks at me, and everything I know falls apart. I love him. God help me, I love the man I’m supposed to destroy.

My knees buckled. I sat hard in the nearest armchair.

Liam knelt beside me, his expression unreadable.

Victor, across the room, turned to stone.

And Olivia—my mother—closed her eyes like she could still feel every word she’d written.

“You lied,” I whispered, not looking up. “All these years, you told me he was the enemy.”

“I did what I had to,” she said, her voice barely audible.

I flipped the page. My heart thudded louder with each line.

Victor told me about the deal his father made with the Sinclairs—how they used Dominic’s mother to broker political leverage. How she died because of it. I didn’t believe him at first. I thought he was trying to guilt me into staying. But I found the documents. My father—Senator Richard Sinclair—sold her out for a seat at the cabinet table.

I stopped breathing.

“Wait.” My voice broke. “Are you saying… my father… caused her death?”

Victor’s gaze darkened. “That’s what I’ve always believed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.

He took a slow breath. “Because Olivia begged me not to.”

I turned to her, my voice trembling. “You knew what he did and you stayed married to him?”

“I didn’t have a choice, Elena. I was young. I was terrified. Your father was already grooming me for politics, and he made it clear that if I didn’t fall in line, I’d lose everything—including you.”

I opened to another page, heart pounding.

I’m pregnant. I don’t know if it’s Victor’s or Richard’s. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll raise the child as a Sinclair. Richard will never know. And if it’s Victor’s… maybe one day, she’ll understand everything I couldn’t say.

The room spun.

I stared at the page. Then at Olivia.

Then at Victor.

“No,” I said, voice cracking. “That’s not possible.”

Victor stepped forward slowly. “Elena…”

“Don’t,” I snapped, leaping to my feet. “Are you telling me there’s a chance you’re my biological father?”

The silence was deafening.

Olivia didn’t confirm it.

She didn’t deny it either.

“I don’t know,” she finally said, tears brimming in her eyes. “I never did a test. I never wanted to know. I thought… if I loved you enough, it wouldn’t matter.”

“But it does matter,” I choked. “You built your lives on lies. Both of you. And now I’m stuck in the fallout.”

Liam stood beside me, looking completely out of place in the emotional wreckage.

“I need air,” I muttered. I stormed outside into the cold night, the rain light now, misting the deck that overlooked the lake.

Dominic was already there, leaning against the railing.

He turned when he heard me, his eyes immediately narrowing in concern. “What happened?”

I walked straight to him and buried my face in his chest.

He wrapped his arms around me without a word. Just held me, like he knew the pieces of me were barely hanging together.

“My father might not be my father,” I whispered. “Victor might be.”

His arms tensed. “What?”

“My mother… she wrote about their affair. About a pregnancy. She never told either of them the truth.”

Dominic was silent for a long beat, and then: “If he is… what does that change?”

“Everything. Nothing. I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “It explains the obsession. The manipulation. Why Richard wanted to marry me off to you. He needed the Caldwells tied to him—permanently.”

Dominic tipped my chin up gently.

“And what do you want?”

I stared up into his stormy eyes. The man I was supposed to hate. The man I had every reason to fear.

But he was also the man who stayed. Who held me together when my world collapsed.

And suddenly, the answer was terrifyingly clear.

“I want the truth. I want justice. And I want you.”

His lips brushed mine—soft at first. Barely there.

And then with fire.

He pulled me close, kissed me like he’d been waiting his whole life for it. Our mouths met in desperation, not tenderness. Hunger. Frustration. Years of secrets and silence burning away with every touch.

When we finally broke apart, breathless and aching, I whispered, “We’re going to end them.”

He nodded. “Together.”

But before we could say more, Liam burst through the doors behind us, eyes wild.

“You need to see this,” he said, holding up a photo from one of the vault folders. “Now.”

We followed him inside.

He laid it on the table.

It was a grainy surveillance image.

From a private airport.

Dated a month before Dominic’s mother died.

It showed Senator Richard Sinclair… shaking hands with Victor’s father.

And in the background—barely visible but unmistakable—was Olivia.

Pregnant.

Eyes wide with fear.

My stomach dropped.

Dominic cursed under his breath. “They planned it. All of it. Our families didn’t just feud—they were complicit in a cover-up.”

I whispered, “We’ve been fighting each other… when the real enemy has been hiding all along.”

And for the first time, I realized—

This wasn’t just about revenge.

It was about rewriting a legacy soaked in blood and betrayal.