Enid Sinclair Novelas e Histórias

My phone chirps, and I see a message from Sinclair. Stop bothering me – I found better company for the night. Then, immediately following the text, a photo appears. Sinclair is naked in a strange bed, his eyelids heavy over a sultry stare, his clothes from this evening slung over a nightstand. And there beside him, naked as the day she was born – is Lydia. _____________________

He ordered. I don’t know who died and made him the boss of me? What gave him the right to order me around? It made me furious, but again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Cain Cadell was known to treat witches like servants, and when they didn’t do his beddings, he killed them. Usually, in the most gruesome ways ever. I just want this night to be over with. I thought to myself, then said, “Just bring a shovel.” He gave me a Cheshire grin and nodded his head. The car ride was engulfed in a tense silence. He gave me a side glance, as we neared the cemetery, “How long have you lived in Midwick?” He asked out of the blue.

I sat down at my desk and opened up my laptop. Immediately, it started getting blown up with emails and I groaned. The hell was going on? “Oh no…Zach…” I looked up at Stacy, who was looking at me, wide-eyed, as was Jason. I looked down at the email that read, ‘Care to comment’ and pulled up the article. ‘Jennifer Sinclair, heiress to the Sinclair group and fiancé to Zachary Anderson, caught in bed with modeling agent Andre Forte.’ There was a lovely video of her naked, wrapped in bedsheets with her modeling manager, covering his assets with a bed pillow.

“Speaking of money… guess who just walked in?” Lucia barely glanced up as she poured. “Let me guess—another tech mogul with a superiority complex?” “Close. That’s Adrian Sinclair.” This time, Lucia looked. Across the room, a man sat with a confidence that made it clear he was used to being in control. Adrian Sinclair. Even if she hadn’t recognized him, the name alone carried weight. He was the heir to Sinclair Enterprises, a billion-dollar conglomerate that owned everything from luxury hotels to global media companies. His father’s empire had shaped industries, his mother graced magazine covers, and Adrian himself was the kind of man whose face belonged in a GQ spread.

The silence was thick—charged. Finally, Mr. Lark broke it. **MR. LARK** Report, darling. Enid didn’t waste time. **ENID** I had a clear shot. She stopped it mid-air. *Didn’t touch it.* Just... looked. Then the ground moved. It reacted to her—like it was alive. Aiden’s brow twitched. But it was Mr. Lark who leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. **MR. LARK** You’re certain? **ENID**

“Next time, try keeping your secrets in a better hiding place.” Adrian’s gaze flicked to the laptop on his desk, then back to her. His jaw tensed, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he knelt beside the intruder, yanking off the mask. The man was unfamiliar to Juniper, but Adrian’s expression darkened. “Damon Sinclair,” he muttered. Juniper crossed her arms. “Should I know that name?” Adrian let out a humorless laugh. “CEO of Sinclair Tech. And a royal pain in my ass.”

Home, corrected Lena from shelter video call on wall, toddler banging spoon in Detroit, Queens, Yonkers, Elena House, now one more spoon coming. Return complete. Revenge served warm, extra. Redemption month to month, mother to mother, now mother to baby. And tomorrow nine AM, Sinclair Tower would smell not like fear but like garlic potatoes extra for two, because foreman would bring paper boats to fifty-eighth floor boardroom, and Chairwoman would approve not loan but prenatal vitamins. Because kindness with power finally learned to make extra, even for baby conceived on cold steak night. Tomorrow, Julian's final motion would begin — to prove Chairwoman unfit to be mother and CEO — and Chair

"I have to marry his best friends grandson, Paul Sinclair.” I almost dropped my cup. Why were my broke ears hearing billionaire names. The Sinclairs were the richest family in Texas who owned nearly half of everything. I remember seeing Paul Sinclair in magazines. He was tall, blond and unbelievably handsome. For years women across Texas had voted him the state's hottest billionaire CEO. “My grandfather and Paul’s were good friends," Ivy continued, "so they decided each of their eldest grandkids would get married. But six months ago Paul had a terrible accident." She looked away. "He hasn't been the same since."

MISTRESS FED COMPANY SECRETS TO RIVAL WHILE CEO RAISED HER CHILD AS HIS OWN. EXCLUSIVE: THE WOMAN SINCLAIR DIVORCED WHILE SHE CARRIED HIS ONLY HEIR. I stopped at the last one. Read it again. The woman Sinclair divorced while she carried his only heir. I put the phone face down on the bed. Lay back. Pressed both hands over my face.

"Just give me a name, Robert." "Evander Sinclair," Robert stated clearly. The name echoed in the quiet room. I recognized it immediately. Evander Sinclair was a myth in the business world—a brutal, reclusive billionaire who had turned his family's shipping and tech empire into a global superpower before he even turned thirty. My father had spoken of him with immense respect, almost fear.