Chapter 297 - 0297: You Knew

Chapter 297: Chapter 0297: You Knew

Elena’s Point Of View

The silence that followed the slamming of the lobby doors pressed down like a physical weight, thick with Matilda’s cloying perfume and the metallic tang of a situation that had just exploded. My employees stood frozen, their gazes bouncing between me and the man who had just dismantled the Sinclair patriarch as casually as someone might discard trash.

I could see the questions forming behind their carefully neutral expressions, the shock rippling through the crowd like stones dropped in still water. Someone near the reception desk had their phone half-raised, as if debating whether to capture the moment or pretend it had never happened.

I drew a deep, shuddering breath, smoothing my blazer with hands that trembled despite my best efforts to steady them. The familiar texture of the fabric grounded me, if only slightly. My fingers traced the lapel... a nervous habit I’d developed during my first board meeting years ago, when I’d been the youngest person in the room and everyone had expected me to fail. I had promised myself back then that I would never let anyone see me rattled again. That promise felt like ash in my mouth now.

Around me, the lobby felt too bright, too exposed... every eye a witness to my unraveling composure. The fluorescent lights seemed to intensify, casting harsh shadows that made everything feel surreal, as though I’d stepped sideways into someone else’s nightmare and couldn’t find my way back. "Back to your posts, everyone," I announced, projecting a professional calm that felt like the performance of my life. Each word required effort, as though I were speaking through water. "The situation has been resolved. I apologize for the disruption."

I turned to my assistant, whose wide eyes betrayed her shock. Clara had worked for me for three years and had never seen me lose control... not during hostile takeovers, not during the media scandals, not ever. Her hands twisted the hem of her cardigan, a small, helpless gesture that somehow made the whole scene feel more real. "Clara, get someone to clean up that glass immediately," I said, keeping my voice level despite the chaos churning inside me.

Without waiting for acknowledgment, I pivoted on my heel and strode toward the executive elevators. The rhythmic click-clack of my heels echoed through the lobby like a countdown to something inevitable. Each step felt measured, deliberate, a desperate attempt to maintain the illusion of control when everything inside me screamed to run.

Behind me, whispers had already begun... soft, speculative murmurs that would spread through the building like wildfire, morphing and growing with each retelling until the truth became unrecognizable. I didn’t need to glance back to confirm Jaxx was following.

His presence radiated behind me, that heavy, magnetic pull that usually wrapped around me like armor but now felt like a noose tightening with each step. The heat of his gaze burned between my shoulder blades, and I found myself counting my own footsteps just to keep from breaking into a run.

The elevator ride stretched into an eternity of polished chrome and suffocating silence. I kept my eyes fixed on the ascending numbers, watching them climb with agonizing slowness: twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Each floor felt like a small victory and a step closer to confrontation. I refused to meet Jaxx’s reflection in the mirrored walls, though I could feel him watching me with that intense focus that usually made my pulse race.

Now it only made my stomach clench with dread. My jaw ached from clenching it so tightly, and I could taste blood where I’d bitten the inside of my cheek. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small, traitorous voice whispered that I already knew this conversation would change everything, and that no amount of bracing myself would soften the blow.

We reached my office, a sanctuary of glass and steel that represented every sacrifice, every sleepless night, every battle I’d fought to claim my place in this world. The space had always been my fortress, the one place where I felt truly in command. Today it felt more like a cage, the glass walls offering no escape from what was about to unfold.

The city sprawled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, indifferent to the chaos unfolding within these walls. Somewhere down there, people were going about their ordinary lives, blissfully unaware that mine was imploding.

The moment we crossed the threshold, I heard the heavy thud of the door closing, followed by the distinct click of the lock. That sound... so final, so ominous, sent a shiver down my spine. I whirled around, my purse landing on my desk with a force that rattled the picture frames and sent a pen rolling to the floor.

The small crystal award I’d received last year for Businesswoman of the Year teetered dangerously close to the edge, and some distant part of me almost hoped it would fall, just to give the moment the shattering soundtrack it deserved.

"Start explaining, Jaxx. Right now," I demanded, my voice sharp enough to cut. The words came out harsher than I’d intended, but I was beyond caring about tone or diplomacy. "What the hell was that circus down there?" My mind churned through a chaotic slideshow: Sebastian’s terror-stricken face, the way his skin had paled to the color of ash; Matilda sprawled on the marble floor, her designer dress hiked up in a way she would have found mortifying under different circumstances; and that single word... ’father’ reverberating through my skull like a death knell.

The image of Jaxx’s hand slapping Matilda played on repeat, each replay adding another layer of questions I couldn’t answer. I’d seen Jaxx angry before, protective even, but never like this. Never with such cold, calculated violence.

"Why did he call himself your father? How is he connected to you?" The questions tumbled out, each one laced with the betrayal burning in my chest like acid. My hands found the edge of my desk, gripping it until my knuckles turned white and my fingernails dug crescents into my palms.

The pain helped, somehow... gave me something concrete to focus on when my thoughts threatened to spiral completely out of control. "Start talking, and Jaxx, if you hide even a single syllable from me, I swear to God we’re finished." The threat hung in the air between us, and I meant every word. I’d compromised enough, bent enough, trusted enough. No more.

He moved toward me with that fluid, predatory grace that usually sent heat pooling in my stomach. The way he moved had always reminded me of a panther... all coiled power and dangerous beauty. Now it only stoked my fury. His eyes held something I couldn’t quite read... regret, perhaps, or calculation, or maybe a mixture of both that made my chest tighten with fresh anxiety. His hand reached out, hovering near my waist as though he could pull me back into that protective embrace where nothing else mattered, where the world narrowed to just the two of us and everything made sense.

"Don’t," I snapped, retreating until the edge of my mahogany desk dug into my thighs. The pain was sharp, real, something to anchor me when everything else felt like it was dissolving into smoke and mirrors. "Stay exactly where you are and start explaining."

My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a painful reminder of how exposed I felt. How foolish. How naive. I’d let myself believe I knew this man, that the connection between us was built on something solid... honesty, trust, mutual respect. Now that foundation crumbled beneath my feet like sand, and I was falling, falling, with nothing to catch me.

"My head is spinning, Jaxx. I feel like I’m trapped in a fever dream where everyone knows their lines except me," I said, hating how my voice cracked on the last word. The vulnerability in that crack made me want to scream, to throw something, to do anything to release the pressure building inside my chest. I’d worked so hard to be strong, to be unshakeable, and here I was, trembling like a leaf in a storm. "And I’m tired of being the only one in the dark."

I straightened my spine, forcing myself to meet his gaze without flinching. My father had taught me that... to never show weakness, never let them see you break. Whatever he was about to tell me, I would face it standing tall. I’d built an empire from nothing... clawed my way up from a cramped studio apartment and student loans to this corner office with its million-dollar view. I could survive this truth, no matter how devastating. I had to believe that, because the alternative was unthinkable.

He stopped, dropping his hands to his sides. When he looked at me, his eyes appeared dark and unreadable, the shadows of the office dancing across the sharp angles of his face. Something flickered there... pain, perhaps, or defiance, but it vanished before I could name it. "Yes," he said, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to resonate in my chest. "He is my father... just in name. A biological technicality that I’ve spent my entire life trying to erase." The words hung between us, heavy with years of unspoken history.

"What does that even mean?" I demanded, my voice rising despite my effort to maintain control. "You don’t just ’erase’ a father, Jaxx. Not when he shows up in my lobby screaming that you’re a bastard." The word tasted bitter on my tongue, but I needed him to understand the chaos he’d brought into my world.

Jaxx let out a short, harsh laugh that lacked any hint of mirth. The sound cut through the tension like broken glass. "He rejected my existence, Elena. Denied it from the moment I drew my first breath. My mother wasn’t Matilda." He paused, and I watched his jaw tighten, a muscle ticking beneath skin stretched tight with old fury. "She was someone he deemed ’beneath’ the Sinclair dignity. I was the secret.

The stain on their precious, polished name. They threw us away like yesterday’s news when the scandal got too close to their bank accounts." I could hear the old wounds in his voice, raw despite the years that must have passed, and for a moment I almost reached for him before I caught myself.

My anger wavered, confusion rushing in to fill the gaps. I stared at him, the pieces starting to rattle around in my brain, trying to find their slots. Nothing made sense. Everything made too much sense. "I still don’t understand, Jaxx. I don’t get how this leads to... to this." I gestured between us, encompassing everything we’d built, everything that now felt like it might crumble.

"Graham is my half-brother," Jaxx said, the name coming out of his mouth like it was coated in poison. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "But just like his father, he doesn’t see me as a brother. To them, I’m just the mistake that refused to stay buried. He..."

"So you knew," I cut him off, the realization hitting me with the force of a physical blow. The air in the room felt suddenly thin, freezing. My heart, which had been racing with adrenaline, now felt like a heavy stone in my chest, dragging me down into a darkness I’d thought I’d escaped. "You knew who I was. You knew exactly who Graham was to me." The betrayal washed over me in waves, each one colder than the last, and I had to grip the desk again just to stay upright.

"Elena, wait," Jaxx said, stepping forward again, his expression fracturing for the first time. I saw something break behind his eyes... desperation, regret, fear. "Let me explain the context, let me..."

"Explain what exactly?" I snapped, my voice cracking with a mixture of shock and burgeoning rage. My hands trembled, and I pressed them against my thighs to steady myself. "That you knew I was married to your brother? That you knew every bit of the history I was trying to run away from?"

The questions poured out of me, each one sharper than the last. "Was this all just a game to you? A very elaborate, very cruel way to twist the knife in your father’s side?"

I gestured wildly toward the door, toward the lobby where the ghosts of my past had just been standing, their voices still echoing in my ears. "Did you come to me just to get back at them? Was I just a convenient tool for your revenge? A way to take the one thing Graham actually managed to hold onto for a few years? Is that it?"

My voice broke on the last word, and I hated myself for it. I hated that he could still affect me this way, that despite everything, some part of me desperately wanted him to deny it all, to tell me I had misunderstood, to give me some version of this story where I hadn’t been a fool from the very beginning.