Chapter 72: The Sinclair Family’s ATM

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I stared at her, the weight of her words hitting me harder than expected. "You weren’t the one locked in your bedroom for days, shut up."

"You had food."

I felt something twist inside me, an old anger mixed with a newer exhaustion. "You actually want to go there?"

Lydia cut in before Blair could respond, her voice sharp. "We didn’t come here to argue."

"Then why did you come?"

Richard exhaled, heavy with the weight of unspoken truth. For the first time since walking in, his mask slipped slightly, revealing the practical calculation beneath.

"The advertising company is struggling."

I waited, letting the silence press against him.

"We’ve had some losses."

"How unfortunate."

"Alex."

"What?"

"We need your help."

I looked at him, the pieces finally falling into place. "How much?"

Father hesitated, the pause long enough to confirm what I already suspected. "Twenty million."

For a moment, I thought I hadn’t heard him right. The figure hung in the air between us like something utterly impossible. "Twenty million what?"

"Dollars."

I stared at him...then I looked at Lydia. Then at Blair. None of them seemed the slightest bit ashamed.

Twenty million dollars. They walked into my room after I’d nearly been shot and stabbed and asked for twenty million dollars as if they were requesting a cup of tea. I almost admired the timing.

"You want me to ask Lorenzo for twenty million."

"It would be an investment," Father said quickly, the words spilling out as if saying them faster would make them sound more reasonable. "An investment."

"Yes."

"In what?"

"The company."

"The one that’s on the brink of collapse?"

Richard’s face tightened, the lines around his mouth deepening. "It’s facing temporary difficulties."

"Right." I nodded slowly. "And what about my bride price money?"

Silence, my gaze shifted from one face to another, observing the small shifts that revealed everything I needed to know.

Father looked away first. Blair suddenly became very interested in the floor. Lydia adjusted her sleeve, as if the fabric required her full attention. I understood.

"The money you sold me off for is gone, isn’t it?"

Richard cleared his throat, the sound rough. "There were financial complications."

"Financial complications, sure."

"It wasn’t as simple as you think."

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound dry and devoid of humor. "You gambled it away, stop with the lies."

Richard’s eyes snapped to mine, concern shifting to something sharper. "Watch your tone."

"So you did."

"We made some investments."

"You gambled."

He didn’t respond and I glanced down at my hands, noticing the faint tremor still lingering from last night and the new one beginning now.

Something strange happened then: my anger vanished for a moment, not because I forgave them, but because I suddenly understood...a clarity that felt almost cold.

They hadn’t come to check on me after I was attacked. They hadn’t come because they missed me or whatever.

They hadn’t come because they remembered how to be parents or because the idea of their son being hurt finally pierced through the years of distance.

No, they were here because I was still useful. I was still married to Lorenzo. Still valuable, still connected to money and still someone they could lean on when the accounts ran dry and the previous windfall wasn’t enough.

The realization was quieter than I’d expected, and it hurt more than I thought it would too.

After everything I’d faced, some stupid part of me had apparently still wanted them to come because they actually deep down cared about my ass.

That part of me was clearly an idiot, and I mentally noted to get rid of it as soon as possible.

I looked back up. "No."

Richard blinked, the refusal landing harder than he anticipated. "What?"

"No."

"Alex, my son... think this through."

"I have."

"You don’t grasp the seriousness of this situation."

"I understand perfectly."

"You’re Lorenzo’s husband and he adores, you have access to him."

"So?"

"You should be able to convince him."

I laughed, sharper this time. "You still don’t get it."

Richard leaned in, urgency creeping into his posture. "Then explain it to me."

"I am not asking Lorenzo for twenty million dollars."

"Why not?"

I shrugged with a smile, "Because I don’t want to."

Lydia’s expression hardened, maternal concern giving way to something colder. "After everything we’ve done for you, this is how you repay us?"

I stared at her, her words unlocking a door I’d kept firmly shut. "Everything you’ve done for me? You mean reminding me every day that I was an illegitimate child?"

"That’s not what we did."

"You mean locking me away whenever I embarrassed you?"

"You were a difficult child!"

"You mean telling me my existence was a stain on the family name?!"

Richard’s face flushed with anger, color creeping up from his collar. "Enough."

"No." My voice trembled despite my best efforts to stay calm. But I continued, the words pouring out, long overdue. "You want twenty million from me because the money you got for selling me wasn’t enough."

"We never sold you," Richard snapped, the denial spilling out automatically. "It was a marriage arrangement."

"You knew I didn’t want it."

"You benefited from that marriage. You have a better life now."

"I almost got killed yesterday."

"That wasn’t our fault."

"I know." The words came out sharper than I intended, slicing through the air between us. "But you know what is your fault? The fact that I spent my childhood believing I had to earn my fucking humanity and my freedom!"

Lydia stood up suddenly, the motion jarring. "Don’t talk to us like that!"

"Why not?!"

"Because we raised you!"

"And you never let me forget it."

Her mouth opened, ready with some defense, but I didn’t give her the chance to interrupt.

"You fed me and labeled it a sacrifice! You clothed me and called it a sacrifice! You kept me locked away and said it was for my protection! You blamed me for things I didn’t do and called it discipline! You made me feel indebted for every meal, every shirt, every birthday, every breath I took!"

My chest tightened, the familiar pressure building behind my ribs. My hands trembled, the twitch visible now if anyone cared to notice.

But I couldn’t stop. The words kept coming, driven by a force that wouldn’t be silenced any longer.

"You didn’t raise me out of love. You raised me because I was your duty, and you made sure I understood that every single day!"

Blair stood up too, a mix of outrage and fear on her face. "You’re so ungrateful, Alex. How could you speak to mom and daddy like that?!"

I turned to her, fiery frustration making everything feel sharper. "You better shut your ass up, Blair. I mean it"

Lydia scoffed, the sound dismissive. "We took you in after your mother disappeared the second you were born."

I leveled my gaze at her, old warnings barely contained. "Don’t."

"You would have had nothing."

"I said don’t."

"You were an illegitimate child with no other options!"

"Don’t hold that against me."

"We gave you a home!" Lydia’s composure finally shattered. "We sacrificed everything for you!"

"What did I ever ask you to sacrifice?"

No one answered. The silence weighed heavier than the argument that preceded it.

I swallowed hard, the motion painful against the tightness in my throat. "That’s what I thought."

Father abruptly stood, the chair scraping against the floor. "You’ve become arrogant! You think because you’re married to Lorenzo Castelli, you’re above us?!"

"No." I locked eyes with him, unwilling to look away even as instinct urged me to shrink. "I finally believe I’m above begging for your love."

The room fell silent. I could hear the faint ticking of the clock on the mantel, my own uneven breathing loud in the stillness.

Even the air felt too still, like the estate was holding its breath with us. Richard stared at me as if seeing me for the first time, the carefully crafted mask of a concerned father slipping further away with each passing second. Then his expression shifted.

The softness faded, revealing something I recognized from years of avoided memories.

For a horrible moment, I caught a glimpse of the man I remembered from childhood...the one whose anger always arrived like clockwork.

I steeled my gaze and I pointed to the door, "Now, get out of my house."