Sinclair's Lost Heir[The Rise Of The Betrayed Son-in-law]

CHAPTER 6

Ethan’s POV

“That’s your great-grandfather,” Olivia said beside me. “And your great-grandmother.”

“They look…” I trailed off, searching for the right word. Regal. Powerful.

“Formidable?” Olivia supplied with a smirk. “That’s because they were. The Sinclairs have always been more than just businessmen. They didn’t just build empires. They protected them.”

I turned to her. “Protect them?”

She gestured toward another painting—a battle scene. Men in suits, wielding weapons, fighting alongside uniformed soldiers. “Every Sinclair is trained. Business, politics, combat. It’s not enough to be rich. Power without strength is meaningless.”

I studied the painting, realization dawning. Olivia’s voice softened. “And now, you’re one of them, as you always have been.”

“What happens now?” I asked.

She turned, motioning for me to follow. “Now, you get ready to begin your training.” We approached the martial arts hall. It was built for function, not luxury. The floors were lined with cushioned mats, the walls adorned with weapons ranging from traditional staffs to firearms encased in glass displays. Some men and women trained in the open space, their movements precise, controlled.

I exhaled. “So this is where I get my ass kicked?”

Olivia chuckled. “Something like that.”

She walked me to the center of the hall, where an older man stood, arms crossed. His eyes were sharp, his posture relaxed but ready—like a coiled spring.

“This is Master Han,” Olivia introduced. “He’s been training Sinclair heirs for decades. He’ll be overseeing your progress.”

Han eyed me with open scrutiny before nodding. “You’re late.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You should have started years ago,” Han said simply. “You have a lot of catching up to do.”

I glanced at Olivia, who merely raised a brow.

“Guess I better get to work then.”

Han nodded approvingly. “Good. We begin in three days. Be ready.”

I turned to Olivia as we exited the hall. “He doesn’t waste words, does he?”

She smirked. “Nope.”

As we walked back towards the mansion, Olivia turned to a corridor that led outside, towards another section of the palace.

“Where are we headed?”

Olivia giggled, “you will know when we get there.”

The corridor stretched before us, eerily quiet. Unlike the rest of the palace, which bustled with movement and chatter, this section felt untouched by time. The walls, though polished, held an air of solitude, as if they had been left to house only echoes of the past. The chandeliers overhead gleamed just as brightly as the ones in the main halls, but their light felt colder, more distant. Even the air seemed heavier here, thick with something unspoken.

Olivia walked with steady steps, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. I followed closely behind, my gaze flickering over the vast wooden doors lining the hallway. Each one was closed, sealed shut like the secrets they guarded.

Finally, we stopped in front of a set of double doors. Olivia hesitated, then pulled out a key from the pocket of her coat. She turned to me, her expression unreadable.

“This place belonged to George and Ruby Sinclair,” she said quietly. “Your parents.”

I felt my breath hitch slightly, my fingers clenching unconsciously. My parents. The words felt foreign on my tongue, distant yet suddenly so close. I had spent my entire life not knowing them. And now, standing in front of the remnants of their lives, I wasn’t sure if I was ready.

Olivia pushed the doors open, and the scent of aged wood and faint perfume washed over me. The room beyond was nothing like I had imagined.

The furniture was pristine, the space untouched, as if frozen in time. A large fireplace stood at one end, its mantle adorned with ornate carvings. A few bookshelves lined the walls, their contents dust-free, as if someone had been caring for them all these years. But it was the pictures that caught my attention.

Framed photographs and painted portraits hung delicately around the room. I stepped forward slowly, my heartbeat ringing in my ears. My fingers brushed against the edge of a photo frame, and I swallowed the lump in my throat as I looked at the image.

A woman smiled back at me, her eyes warm and kind, her features delicate yet strong. Beside her stood a man with a firm expression, his posture unwavering. And between them, a baby boy, barely old enough to sit up, wrapped in his mother’s arms. My stomach twisted.

“You look like her,” Olivia said, stepping beside me. “Your mother.”

I exhaled a small chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t know... she’s beautiful.”

“And so are you,” she teased, nudging me lightly. “In a very masculine way, of course. But the resemblance is there.”

A smirk tugged at my lips, but it quickly faded. “I wish I had met them,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. “Even just once.”

Olivia’s expression softened. “I know,” she murmured. “But if they were here, I think they’d be proud of you. You’ve come so far on your own, Ethan. That says something.”

I let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah. Maybe.”

She gave my arm a gentle squeeze before moving toward a large oak desk at the far end of the room. I followed, taking in the personal belongings laying atop it. An old watch, a fountain pen, a leather-bound journal. I ran my fingers over the surface, feeling the indentations of time left behind by the hands that once used them.

“They were powerful,” Olivia said, watching me. “But they were also human. They loved. They dreamed. And now, you’re part of that legacy.”

I turned to her, meeting her gaze.

For a few more minutes, we walked through the room, taking in every detail. I didn’t speak much. I just observed, memorizing every inch, every object. When it was time to leave, I took one last look around before stepping back into the hallway. Olivia locked the doors and then, without a word, turned to me, pressing the key into my palm.

“Hold on to it,” she said. “In case you ever want to come back.”

I stared down at the small piece of metal, then back up at her.

With a nod, I slid the key into my pocket and walked forward, leaving behind the past but carrying a piece of it with me.