“Why?” My voice was barely there.
He looked like he wanted to say something, finally tell meeverything. But all he said was, “Because I don’t know how to exist when you’re not somewhere in the world with me.”
And that—that—was enough to crack me open. My chest ached. All the reasons I shouldn’t give in, shouldn’t allow him back in—the lies, the secrets, the way he let me walk away without chasing me—melted under the heat of those words.
Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was plain fucking stupid. But I’d give him one last chance. I leaned in, closing the distance between us, needing to taste the truth of his words on his lips. He met me halfway.
His lips were warm, desperate, trembling against mine. No finesse. Just hunger and need. Just the collision of two people who didn’t know how to live without each other but kept finding ways to break anyway.
It wasn’t a promise.
It was a surrender.
And for now, that was enough.
CHAPTER 19
THEO
My life had become a high-stakes balancing act. Every step was a gamble, every breath a risk. I lived on the edge, clinging to the illusion of control while the world beneath me tilted with every lie I told, every mask I wore.
And I was running out of hands to juggle it all. There were two of me now. The one they saw: the golden boy, the heir, the obedient son who smiled when told, who dressed like power and moved like legacy. And the real me: the one who wanted Sin. The one who needed him.
Sin was the only thing that felt real in a world made of smoke and mirrors. His touch lit me up. His voice grounded me. He saw past all the polish, down to the cracked thing beneath, and didn’t flinch.
But the lies I fed him, dressed in good intentions and hollow promises, were starting to bleed. And I hated myself for every single one.
I was late again.
My phone buzzed with another calendar alert as I jogged across the lobby to the elevators, tie crooked, suit jacket rumpled. I’d spent the entire day smoothing over last-minutegala logistics, then my father called:“Meeting with the board. Be there in twenty.”
And when he summoned me, I came. No matter what it cost me, I jumped.
The boardroom felt like a cage. Sleek glass walls, clinical lighting, and a dozen wolves in suits pretending to be civilized. My father sat at the head of the table, like a king, a Rolexed wrist resting over neatly arranged briefing documents.
He didn’t look up as I slipped onto the chair next to him. “Glad you could finally join us.” His voice was smooth and razor-sharp.
I swallowed the vitriol that rose in my throat and forced a nod. “Apologies, father. The vendor meetings for the gala ran over.”
The corner of his mouth twitched and turned down. His disappointment was painted clearly on his face. It was predictable. Measurable. I learned long ago how to recognize that expression and the consequences that came with it.
“Then let’s hope you came prepared,” he replied, flipping to a report with exaggerated care. “We’re discussing the Whitmore acquisition. Something I assume you’ve been briefed on.”
I hadn’t. Hadn’t even looked at it. Not because I didn’t care—but because my life had fractured into pieces, and I was drowning beneath them all.
“We’re looking at their shipping division,” one of the board members offered. “They’ve got major bottlenecks. If we gut it, strip the current framework and restructure, it’s an easy 30% profit gain within two quarters.”
Everyone nodded. I tried to be invested. I really did. But the only thing echoing in my head was thoughts ofSin.
“Any thoughts, Theo?”
All eyes snapped to me. Expectant. Sharp. Predatory.
I cleared my throat. “They’re union-backed, aren’t they? That could create long-term complications if we cut too deep. Public perception’s already fragile after the last restructuring the company went through.”
A beat of silence. Then one of the board members scoffed under his breath. “Bleeding heart.”
There were a few polite chuckles. Followed by pointed looks. The disapproval that I looked at and valued anything else over bottom line profit was ridiculous. My father didn’t laugh. He stared at me like I was a smear on his clean glass table.
