Chapter 73: Smoke and Mirrors

If truth were a matchstick, then tonight we’d set the entire house of Sinclair and Caldwell ablaze.

I stared at the photo Liam had just placed on the table—my mother, pregnant, in the background of a deal I was never meant to know existed. A deal between the man who raised me and the father of the man I might now call mine.

Victor Caldwell was silent, jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might snap.

Olivia couldn’t even look at me. Her eyes were locked on the image like it might pull her backward into time and give her a second chance.

It wouldn’t.

“Why now?” I asked, voice hollow. “Why keep this from us for so long?”

“I tried to protect you,” Olivia finally whispered.

Dominic stepped beside me, his palm brushing mine. His touch was grounding, but nothing could fully tether me in this storm.

“Protect me?” I snapped. “By lying? By feeding me to the wolves? I was a pawn in a war you started and then walked away from!”

“Your father threatened Victor’s life,” she said. “He said if I told anyone about the baby, about what really happened to Eleanor Caldwell… he’d destroy him. I believed him. I knew what he was capable of.”

“I thought Richard was just corrupt,” I whispered, staring at the grainy photo again. “But this… this is evil.”

Victor finally spoke. “He was never going to let go. That man built his empire on control—political, financial, personal. You were always a piece of his strategy, Elena.”

My stomach twisted. “And the arranged marriage to Dominic?”

Victor gave a bitter laugh. “That was the cherry on top. The Sinclairs and Caldwells joining forces publicly, despite decades of bad blood? It’s the kind of optics Richard lives for. A smoke screen to distract from the rot underneath.”

Liam swore under his breath. “And I bought into it. I let him spin me into his web too.”

Dominic’s hand gripped mine now, tight. “Not anymore.”

I looked around the room at the wreckage—of truth, of illusions, of the lies we’d all been living in. We were standing in the eye of the storm, and I knew something with gut certainty: we had two choices. Let it consume us… or tear it all down.

I straightened. “We need to go public.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack,” I replied. “But not yet. If we do this wrong, my father will spin it again. We need more—proof, witnesses, records.”

Dominic’s eyes glinted. “And I know exactly where to start.”

Hours later, we were back in Manhattan, navigating a cold, glass building that once felt like a fortress of power. Caldwell Enterprises.

But tonight, it felt more like a battlefield.

We slipped into the private elevator and descended two floors underground, where Dominic’s most confidential archives were stored. I’d never been here before, but the sterile walls and biometric locks told me all I needed to know—this was where secrets lived.

Dominic punched in the code, then scanned his palm.

When the steel doors opened, we were greeted by floor-to-ceiling shelves, security cameras in every corner, and the soft hum of refrigeration.

“This place gives me chills,” I muttered.

He offered a faint smile. “Good. It should.”

We moved past locked cabinets and glass cases until he stopped in front of one labeled Black File: SC-91.

“SC for Sinclair?” I asked.

He didn’t answer—just opened the drawer and pulled out a folder thicker than I expected.

Inside were documents—letters, communications, internal memos—detailing decades of exchanges between my father and Victor’s father.

Most damning of all were audio recordings.

We played the first one.

Richard’s voice crackled through the static. “Make sure Eleanor disappears before the press catches wind of anything. I don’t care how. If we’re going to profit off this merger, she can’t be a problem.”

I gasped.

Dominic’s hand tightened on my waist. “We knew it. But now we can prove it.”

“That’s premeditated murder,” I whispered. “We’re talking life in prison.”

“Which is exactly why your father will do anything to bury this,” Dominic said. “We need to move fast.”

I pulled out a thumb drive from my purse and copied everything.

The file transfer bar crawled slowly.

I glanced at Dominic. “Are you scared?”

He hesitated, then said, “Yes. But not of him.”

“Then what?”

He looked me dead in the eyes. “Of losing you.”

It wasn’t the words that wrecked me. It was the way he said them—so raw, so honest, that I forgot how to breathe.

I leaned in, pressed my forehead to his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.

Our lips met—slow, deep, aching with everything we hadn’t said.

This wasn’t the war zone kiss from before. It was quieter. Like surrender. Like home.

But then the lights in the archive flickered.

We pulled apart.

Dominic turned toward the hallway. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

Footsteps echoed.

Then a voice.

“Well, isn’t this touching.”

I froze.

Senator Richard Sinclair stood at the entrance, flanked by two guards and a smug smile.

“I wondered how long it would take you to come sniffing around,” he said, stepping inside like he owned the place. “I knew Olivia was slipping. That journal was supposed to be destroyed.”

“How did you—?” I started, but he cut me off.

“I always knew you’d go digging, Elena. You’re your mother’s daughter after all. But I’m disappointed in you, Dominic. I thought you were smarter than this.”

Dominic stepped in front of me protectively. “You’re finished, Senator.”

“Am I?” he said with a chuckle. “You’ve got evidence, sure. But you also have everything to lose if this goes public. Your company. Your reputation. Your… fiancée.”

I glared at him. “Don’t you dare threaten me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sneered. “I’m not threatening you. I’m reminding you. You think you’re in control now? I built you. Every opportunity, every deal, every step up the ladder—you took it from me.”

“You used me,” I spat.

“I raised you,” he roared, finally letting the mask slip. “You think I liked turning my daughter into a pawn? You think I wanted to choose between protecting my legacy and loving you?”

“You never loved me,” I said coldly. “You only loved your power.”

A silence stretched.

Then he smiled again. “Then I suppose I have nothing left to lose.”

He snapped his fingers.

The guards moved forward.

And then—

BANG!

The room exploded into chaos.

Dominic tackled me to the ground as another shot rang out. Glass shattered, papers flew, and the smell of smoke filled the air.

Alarms blared.

Screams echoed from the corridor.

And Richard Sinclair disappeared into the smoke like the devil he was.