"What my family does is beyond my control. I'm too old for this," Sinclair said coldly. "As long as they keep the family safe and the business thriving, I want no part in it."
"So, you don't care about the life of a stranger whose taken bullets and poison ant for your real granddaughter?"
"You've benefited from that life. You were an orphan, and my son saved you. He gave you a na, a status — everything most girls can only dream of."
"He didn't save — he used . And now he plans to discard ."
Sinclair's face remained as hard as stone, as if I were speaking to a statue.
Why were the n in my life all like this?
I wondered.
"If you don't help , then Sebastian will die."
Sinclair paused, his piercing eyes locking onto mine. "And pray tell, how is my dog's life connected to yours?"
This was it — the mont of truth. I was betting everything on this one card, foolish and reckless, but there was no turning back now.
"I know sothing about Sebastian that could potentially save his life. If you help live, I'll tell you what it is."
Sinclair's expression didn't waver. "If you an Sebastian's cancer, I already know."
". . . "
I felt the world collapse around . The walls closed in, suffocating with the weight of my own foolishness.
"You . . . you know?"
Sinclair's eyebrow arched as a smirk tugged at his lips. "Judging by your reaction, I assu that's the big secret you were holding onto. Too bad — I've known for a long ti. And he couldn't be save. You're already a year too late," he finished like he could read my plans.
How could this be?
I was certain Sinclair didn't know. If he did, wouldn't he have done everything in his power to save Sebastian long ago? Or had I been wrong? Had he tried to save the dog, only for it to die in the end?
"I've known about Sebastian's cancer," Sinclair continued. "I kept it a secret to prevent anyone from using his sickness against . But what baffles is how
you
know. Only Victor and a few trusted experts are aware of his condition."
How did I know?
Simple — I've regressed and seen the future, but there was no way I could tell him that. He'd have committed to an asylum.
"Who told you?" Sinclair's voice was sharp like a knife.
"Is that really important right now?"
Sinclair's eyes narrowed as he picked up his cane. "You're right. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you leave my sight before I have security throw you out."
He stood, his cane tapping the floor with finality. "And never co back."
I bit my lip, the anger boiling inside . My fists clenched as I fought the urge to grab him and force him to listen. But I knew better — Sinclair wouldn't be swayed by emotion. My plan had failed, but I wasn't giving up. If I couldn't reach him with sentint, I'd appeal to his true nature — business.
"
Wait
!" I dropped to my knees, swallowing my pride as I begged. Every nerve in my body scread to get up, but my life was on the line, and I had to endure. "Loan ten million dollars!"
Sinclair froze mid-step.
"Loan ten million, and I'll return half a billion within six months. All I need is for you to take under your protection!"
I heard him chuckle, but he didn't turn around. To him, I must have sounded insane. What business skills did I have? How would a seventeen-year-old possibly gather that much money in such a short ti? It must have seed like a joke.
"And why would I want to do that? As you can see, I can easily get that amount of money, even if, by so miracle, you manage to accumulate it."
"Because it will prove that I'm valuable to be discarded!" I shot back. "Getting that amount of money in that short ti will prove my skills and earn my place here."
I could sense a shift in the air. Sinclair valued money, but he valued people who could be useful to him even more.
"All your propositions are based on
'what ifs,'
with no concrete evidence of your abilities. I'm not about to shell out ten million dollars on a gamble. Get out."
"They are 'what ifs,'" I admitted. "But wasn't it 'what ifs' that built this empire? Didn't everyone dream and started in 'what ifs' first? Ten million is just a drop in the bucket compared to what you'll gain if I succeed!"
There was a tense silence before Sinclair's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Victor!"
Victor appeared within seconds.
"You called, sir?"
"Escort her out," the old man ordered, the thud of his cane growing fainter as he walked away.
I closed my eyes, my heart sinking.
This was it.
I had failed.
". . . and deposit ten million dollars into her account."
My eyes shot open, wide with shock. Victor's mouth hung agape.
"One billion by six months," Sinclair finished. "Or I'll personally see that you drown on so forgotten island."
And with that, he was gone.
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