Chapter 28
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Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Dining Area
The estate felt different. Quieter. Not in the heavy way—but in the way a breath holds just before everything changes.
The dining area had become a slow-moving campsite of coffee, toast, and half-hearted banter. Kristina sat between Ash and Sebastian, her mug warm in her hands, the second pot of coffee already drained.
Vex had staked claim on the third carafe like it was personal territory, arms folded around it as if daring anyone to challenge him. Eli slouched across from him, scrolling through his tablet with jam-sticky fingers and muttering to himself.
“Okay. This just dropped.” Eli tapped a notification and flicked it toward the small wall screen behind him. A clean banner blinked to life:
INTERNAL COMMUNICATION From: PR and Internal Operations Subject: SD Annual Winter Gala – December 23
Sinclair Dominion’s Annual Winter Gathering will be held at The Marlowe Grand Hotel, 6:00 p.m. onwards, December 23. Venue: Imperial Ballroom, Level 39 Dress Code: Formal Attire – Black Tie Optional Transportation: Private shuttles available upon request. Security clearance required. Dinner will be catered. Music, drinks, and year-end remarks to follow. Attendance is encouraged.
Please check your assigned guest list responsibilities and confirm all security notes by 3:00 p.m. today.
Thank you, PR & Internal Operations
Vex squinted. “That’s tomorrow.”
Ash leaned back, smirking. “Gala time already. Guess that’s our yearly reminder we clean up well.”
Sebastian offered a mild shrug. “And our yearly reminder Lucian hates mingling.”
“I heard that.”
Lucian’s voice came from the hallway entrance. He entered with his sleeves rolled and his hair slightly damp—fresh from a run or a shower or both. He didn’t stop walking, just crossed to the espresso machine like nothing was out of the ordinary.
Eli grinned. “Okay but real talk—who’s taking bets on whether or not he shows up with a date?”
Lucian didn’t look up. “I’m not bringing a date.”
“Lame,” Vex said. “Boss move would be to walk in with two.”
Kristina snorted quietly into her coffee.
Ash glanced sideways at her, then back at Lucian. “You really planning to go solo?”
Lucian didn’t answer. Just sipped his espresso.
Sebastian looked at Kristina for a beat. But she didn’t say anything. Didn’t shift. Just watched the coffee in her cup swirl gently.
Eli leaned in dramatically. “It’s Kristina’s last day. Maybe she doesn’t want to spend it babysitting rich people in tuxedos.”
The joke landed—but it cracked something quiet underneath.
The silence that followed wasn’t long. But it was enough.
Ash cleared his throat. “We could all go. Team table. Back wall. Escape route mapped.”
Sebastian nodded once. “Might be the last time we do.”
That landed even heavier.
Kristina didn’t lift her gaze. Her voice, when it came, was quiet. Controlled.
“Is attendance mandatory for the security team?”
Lucian answered her, tone just as measured. “Not this year.”
She nodded once. Nothing else.
No agreement. No refusal. No reveal.
Just a quiet confirmation that she’d heard him—and nothing more.
Lucian didn’t move.
No one said what they were all thinking.
That by tomorrow, she might not be here.
That the gala might be a send-off no one had agreed to—but everyone would feel.
Eli tried to lighten it. “So… we’re saying tuxes, team selfies, free food, and emotional damage?”
Vex raised his mug. “Standard SD protocol.”
Kristina didn’t reply. Just took another sip of coffee—still, poised, unreadable.
Lucian met her eyes across the room. Quietly. Steadily.
He didn’t ask. She didn’t promise.
But something unspoken passed between them anyway.
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Office of the CEO
Late Afternoon
The city stretched gray and gold beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lucian’s office. The winter sun had begun its slow descent, and the glass walls soaked in its fading light, casting long shadows across the polished floors.
Lucian stood behind his desk, one hand braced against the edge, the other curled loosely at his side. A report sat untouched on his screen. The morning’s clarity—Kristina’s decision, her voice in the kitchen, steady and sure—should have brought relief.
But she hadn’t told him yet.
And waiting had never come easy to Lucian Sinclair.
A soft knock at the door pulled his attention.
He didn’t look away from the skyline. “Come in.”
The door opened, and the weight of presence alone told him who it was.
“Didn’t think I needed an appointment,” Harold Sinclair said as he stepped inside. He closed the door behind him with more care than necessary. Cane in hand, coat sharp as ever, he cut an elegant if aging figure—a man of reputation carved in iron.
Lucian turned just enough to greet him with a nod. “I thought you were in London.”
“I was.” Harold made his way toward the sitting area without waiting to be invited. “But the board’s full of old men who like to hear themselves speak. I’ve already heard it all before.”
Lucian allowed a faint smile. “And you decided I’d be better company?”
“I decided you’d be the only one who wouldn’t try to impress me.”
Lucian stepped around the desk and poured two fingers of Glenrothes into a crystal tumbler. He set it on the low table by the chair opposite Harold and took the seat across from him.
The older man took the glass, but didn’t drink. He studied Lucian instead.
“Something’s bothering you.”
Lucian didn’t answer immediately. “There’s a decision I’m not in control of.”
“Ah,” Harold said, not unkindly. “A woman, then.”
Lucian exhaled through his nose. “She hasn’t said anything yet. Not to me.”
“But she will.”
“I don’t know that.”
Lucian tensed, but gave no reply.
Harold finally took a sip of the whiskey. “Do you think I married your grandmother because it made strategic sense?”
Lucian blinked. “You told me you married her because she had the sharpest tongue in Paris.”
“I also told you never to let someone like that slip past you.” Harold leaned back in his chair. “But you only ever listened to half the lesson.”
Lucian lifted an eyebrow. “What was the other half?”
“Pride is louder than fear. But fear is more dangerous.”
Lucian sat back, letting that settle. “You think I’m afraid.”
“I think you’ve built an empire on control. And you’ve finally found something you can’t predict. Can’t outmaneuver.”
Lucian’s throat tightened. “I care about her more than I meant to.”
Harold’s mouth twitched, just barely. “That’s the only kind of caring worth anything.”
Lucian glanced at the window again, voice low. “If she walks out, I don’t know if I’ll come back from it.”
“Then you won’t,” Harold said. “But you’ll still go on. There’s a difference.”
Lucian looked at him, surprised by the gentleness in the old man’s voice.
“She’s not here because of what you built,” Harold said. “She’s here because of who you are underneath it.”
“And if that’s not enough?”
“Then that’s on her. Not you,” Harold said simply. “But I don’t think that’s the case.”
Lucian was silent for a long moment. Then: “You’re not usually this encouraging.”
Harold gave a dry chuckle. “I’m not usually this old.”
They sat in silence for a few breaths longer.
Then Harold rose—slowly, with the kind of care that comes when you’ve had a lifetime of ignoring your body’s warnings. He didn’t groan or complain. He just stood, adjusted his coat, and picked up his cane.
At the door, he paused.
“I won’t pretend to know what the right thing is,” he said, hand on the knob. “But if it’s something worth choosing, you’ll know.”
Lucian met his gaze. “And if I choose wrong?”
Harold’s reply was almost too soft to hear. “Then you learn to live with it. That’s what men like us do.”
And then he opened the door—
—and left.
Didn’t reach for the report. Didn’t return to the window.
He just sat there, the faint taste of whiskey on his tongue, and waited.
Waited for the moment to come—
For the knock that mattered.
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Lucian’s Study
The office had gone quiet again.
Lucian remained at his desk, one hand tracing the edge of the untouched report—though he hadn’t read a word. The shadows had lengthened across the floor, stretching with the fading light.
Still no knock. No message.
Kristina hadn’t told him her decision.
And the silence was starting to sound like an answer.
Then a knock came sharp and fast—followed by the door swinging open before Lucian could answer.
Eli stood there, slightly out of breath, eyes wide like he’d just sprinted the hall.
“Lucian. He’s here.”
Lucian straightened. “Who—”
“Maxim,” Eli cut in. “He’s in the living room.”
“With Kristina.”
Lucian was already moving.
His chair scraped back, the floor barely registering under his steps. He didn’t ask for more—didn’t need to. The panic had slipped through before he could stop it, cold and fast and far too late.
He took the stairs two at a time.
Below, just past the curve of the landing, three familiar figures stood gathered at the hallway’s edge.
Ash. Vex. Sebastian.
They weren’t blocking the stairs, but they might as well have been. Ash’s arms were folded, a crease between his brows that hadn’t been there this morning. Vex looked caught between curiosity and unease, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Only Sebastian remained still. Hands in his pockets. Watching. Silent.
Lucian’s eyes followed their gaze— —to the living room.
And there she was.
Kristina stood near the fireplace, coat folded over one arm, boots already on. Maxim was beside her—tall, composed, steady. His gloved hand rested lightly on the back of one of the armchairs, not possessive, not urgent. Just… there.
Kristina wasn’t speaking. Neither was Maxim.
But something unspoken hung between them.
And Lucian felt it like a cord wrapping around his ribs.
Ash looked at him as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “They’ve been talking for a few minutes. We didn’t want to interrupt.”
“He didn’t ask for anyone,” Vex added, voice lower now. “Just… showed up. It felt… I don’t know. Different.”
Sebastian didn’t say anything, but his gaze flicked toward Lucian—measured. Waiting.
Lucian didn’t break stride.
Didn’t ask what they meant.
Didn’t ask what they saw.
He just kept walking.
Toward the room where something had already shifted.
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | Living Room
Lucian stepped closer—and stopped.
His eyes caught on the suitcase first. Neatly packed. Standing near the edge of the couch like it had always belonged to departure.
Confusion flickered across his face, sharp and sudden.
“Kristina?”
She turned slowly. Her expression unreadable. Composed, but not cold.
Maxim stood a few feet away, hands clasped loosely in front of him. His voice was steady, but the undercurrent of worry wasn’t hidden.
“She called me,” he said. “Asked me to come get her. It’s her last day.”
Lucian didn’t even glance at him. His eyes were locked on Kristina’s.
“So… you’re not staying?”
His voice was level. Or trying to be. But tension threaded every syllable.
Kristina’s gaze didn’t waver.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then why leave now?”
She didn’t answer.
Maxim glanced between them, then gently stepped back. “I’ll give you both some space. I’ll be in the car.”
Neither of them moved. Neither of them looked away.
Maxim paused for a second longer—then turned and stepped out. On his way, he caught the others’ eyes.
“Come on,” he murmured.
Ash, Vex, and Sebastian followed without protest, leaving the room silent.
“Kristina.”
Lucian said her name again, softer this time. Almost like he wasn’t sure if saying it would make her stay—or make her disappear.
Kristina let out a slow, steadying breath.
“Because I need space to find out.”
She paused. “I’ll tell you when I know.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her.
Not with anger.
Not with blame.
Just the kind of ache that comes from trying not to fall apart in front of the one person who could undo him.
She took a step back—not away from him, but from the moment. From the weight of it.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I just… I need time.”
Lucian finally nodded, though it looked like it cost him something.
His voice was low when it came. Controlled, but frayed at the edges.
A pause. His throat worked.
“Just know… we’ll be waiting here for you.”
Another breath.
Then, even softer—just for her:
“I’ll be waiting.”
Kristina’s fingers curled slightly around the handle of her suitcase.
For a second, she didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Then—she gave the smallest nod.
Not a promise.
Not a goodbye.
Just a thread of understanding pulled taut between them.
And then she turned.
Lucian didn’t stop her.
He didn’t follow.
He just stood there as the door clicked softly behind her, and the silence that followed felt nothing like peace.
Because the ones we wait for… are always the ones who can undo us.
—To be continued.
