2026-08-20 19:24:34
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Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEENNate opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could leave his lips, Preston lunged forward.He was loud and frantic, his voice cutting through the silence. "Mr. Sinclair, do not listen to him. You are making a terrible mistake. This man is a criminal. He is a fraud, and a convict. He killed a man. He spent two years in prison, he is lying to you."Preston's face was red. His hands were shaking, he was not in control of himself. He had lost the polished composure he wore like a mask. He pointed at Nate with a trembling finger. "He is nobody. He has always been nobody. He was a servant in my house. He scrubbed our floors. He washed our dishes. He did what he was told because he had nothing else. He has always had nothing. He will always have nothing."Harold stepped forward, backing his son. "Preston is right, Mr. Sinclair. This man is a liar. He has been lying his whole life. We took him in when he had nowhere to go. We gave him food. We gave him shelter. We gav
Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVEAlexander Sinclair walked through the entrance like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Eleanor was on his arm, her face graceful but tired. Victoria followed close behind, her eyes sharp and alert, scanning the room with the practiced precision of someone who had learned to be wary of everyone.The room went quiet as everyone knew who they were. The wealthiest family in the country, and the most powerful and untouchable. And they had never set foot in the Ashford mansion before.Harold rushed toward them, his hands extended, his face beaming with a pride that made him look ten years younger. "Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair! What an honor! What a privilege! Welcome to our home. We are so grateful you could join us for this special occasion. Please, allow me to introduce you to my son, Preston."Margaret followed close behind, her hands clasped together, her smile so wide it looked painful. She pushed Preston forward, practically shoving him into the Sinclair
Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVENNate sat in the living room of the Sterling estate, a book open in his hands. He had not turned a page in over an hour. His mind was elsewhere, it was always elsewhere these days.Celeste sat across from him, her laptop open on the coffee table, her fingers moving across the keyboard. She was reviewing documents, running an empire from the comfort of her home. She did not look up when the butler entered the room.The butler was an older man with silver hair and a posture that spoke of decades of service. He carried a silver tray with a single envelope resting on it. The envelope was heavy and cream colored, sealed with wax."Madam," the butler said, his voice calm and polite. "An invitation has arrived for you."Celeste looked up, then slowly set her laptop aside and took the envelope from the tray. She examined the seal, the handwriting, and the weight of it. Then she held it out to the butler."Read it," she said.Nate set down his book and turned his attention to the
Chapter Ten
Celeste's heels clicked against the pavement as she walked toward them. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes were cold and sharp. She stopped a few feet away and looked at Vanessa. Then at Vanessa's arms wrapped around Nate. Then back at Vanessa's face."I asked a question," Celeste said. Her voice was quiet but it cut through the night air like a blade. "What is going on here?"Vanessa's eyes narrowed. She did not let go of Nate. She looked at Celeste with open hostility, sizing her up the way she sized up every woman who might threaten her position. "Who do you think you are?" Vanessa asked, her voice dripping with contempt. "This is between me and Nate. You have no business here."Celeste did not flinch. She did not raise her voice. She just looked at Vanessa with the kind of cold dismissal that was more insulting than any shouted insult could ever be. "I have every business here," Celeste said calmly. "Nathaniel is my guest. He is under my protection. And I do not appreciate find
Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINEThe restaurant was the kind of place Nate had only ever seen through windows, with crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths and waiters in tailored suits who moved like ghosts. The kind of place where one meal cost more than most people made in a month.Nate sat in the corner of the private dining room, his back against the wall, his eyes scanning the exits. Old habit from prison. August had taught him to always know the way out.Celeste had brought him here because she had a meeting with an old friend. Someone from her university days. A wealthy businessman who had reached out to her about a potential investment opportunity. Celeste had asked Nate to come along. She did not say why. She just went with him when was done with her work. He had not asked questions, he had just gotten in the car.Across the table, the businessman was deep in conversation with Celeste. He was handsome in a polished, predatory way. He had an expensive suit on with perfect hair, and a smile that d
Chapter Eight
Preston burst through the front door of the Ashford mansion with such force that the heavy oak slammed against the wall and rattled the frames of the paintings hanging in the hallway. His face was flushed, his hands trembling, his expensive Italian suit disheveled as if he had been running. He stood in the entrance, breathing hard, his eyes wild and unfocused.The family was gathered in the living room as they always were at this hour. Harold sat in his leather armchair, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, the evening newspaper spread across his lap. Margaret was on the couch, her legs crossed, a cup of tea cooling on the table beside her. Marcus and Catherine occupied the loveseat, scrolling through their phones, barely looking up. Vanessa was in the armchair by the window, her face illuminated by the glow of her tablet.Harold looked up first. He set down his whiskey and folded his newspaper. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, his voice sharp with annoyanc
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