Semua Bab Twisted Vows Of Desire : Bab 61 - Bab 70

I once thought that justice was found in a courtroom with a judge and a gavel. However, as I stood in Dominic's private conference room, its walls thick enough to hold secrets that could topple empires, I realized the truth. Justice is often delivered in hushed tones. It manifests in meticulously prepared papers, in shattered admissions, and in the way Olivia Sinclair avoided her husband's gaze while gripping a flash drive containing three decades of deceit.Senator Richard Sinclair—my father—was going down. But he didn’t know it yet.“What if he doesn’t show?” I asked, glancing at the clock for the fourth time. We had thirty minutes until the meeting. A fabricated “private Sinclair-Caldwell family summit,” arranged by Dominic with a subtle whisper through our shared PR team.“He will,” Dominic said, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit. “Your father likes to believe he’s still in control. This meeting gives him the illusion of power.”“You’re sure this is the only way?”He

The press conference was already flooding the headlines.I stared at the screen in stunned silence as my father, Senator Richard Sinclair, stood behind a sleek podium, flanked by American flags and two grim-faced aides. His face was a mask of composure, the perfect image of a wronged public servant. But I knew that look. It was the same expression he wore when he lied to an entire room without blinking.“…The recent allegations against my family and my name are nothing but calculated fabrications, conjured up by a man desperate to protect his crumbling empire,” he declared, gesturing toward a blown-up headline of Caldwell Enterprises on fire. “Victor Caldwell will stop at nothing—even dragging up long-dead scandals and forging evidence—to keep the spotlight off his own crimes.”Dominic’s jaw twitched beside me. We were seated in the corner of his private office, the blinds drawn, the air stale from too many secrets and not enough truth. But there was no ignoring what we were seeing no

The old security tape played on the massive screen in Dominic’s study, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The room was dead silent except for the soft whir of the projector and the pounding of my heart. Dominic stood behind me, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze glued to the screen. I sat at the edge of the leather couch, fingers clenched together, trying not to blink.The footage was grainy, the timestamp barely legible—August 17th, 1999—the year before everything in my world fell apart.My mother appeared first. Olivia Sinclair. Younger, but unmistakably her. Dressed in a soft blue coat, her dark hair pulled back in an elegant twist. She looked nervous. Anxious. She kept glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to be followed.Then he appeared.Victor Caldwell.Tall, commanding, and heartbreakingly handsome, even in the pixelated footage. He walked toward her, and the second their hands touched, the air in the room changed.My breath hitched.There was no denying

The moment the screen flashed SECURITY BREACH, my heart stuttered.“Dominic…” My voice trembled, barely above a whisper.He was already on his feet, pulling a drawer open to retrieve a concealed weapon, his movements quick, practiced. Liam stood by the window, peeking through the blinds as the wind howled outside, bringing with it the crackling of leaves—too calculated to be natural.“They’re here,” Liam confirmed grimly. “Two vehicles. No plates.”“Stay inside. Both of you,” Dominic growled, his eyes narrowing as he checked the chamber of his gun. “If they get past me, you run. Do you hear me, Elena?”“No.” I stood too, fury surging through my veins. “I’m not leaving you. Not again.”He turned sharply, grabbing my wrist. “This isn’t a debate—”“It never was!” I snapped. “I’ve been used, lied to, manipulated. If someone wants me dead, they’ll have to go through me this time. I’m done being collateral damage.”Liam raised a brow. “She’s got your fire,” he muttered to Dominic.“Worse,”

The smoke curled in the air, dancing like a wicked omen.I stared at the man I had called “father” for twenty-eight years—Senator Richard Sinclair—now standing in the doorway of Charles Barron’s study, a smoking pistol in his gloved hand and blood on his conscience. The man I had defended through scandals. The man I had nearly destroyed myself trying to protect.He looked at me like a stranger.“Why?” I croaked, barely able to speak over the thundering pulse in my ears. “Why did you kill him?”Richard stepped forward calmly, as if he hadn’t just shot the only man who could’ve unraveled the twisted threads of my existence.“He was a liability,” he said simply. “And liabilities must be removed.”Dominic moved protectively in front of me, but my father didn’t even glance at him.“This doesn’t make sense,” I said, voice breaking. “You knew Victor was my real father. You knew—and you still arranged the marriage. You let me fall into this nightmare.”Richard’s eyes darkened. “You were never