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B 5 vouchers
Connor, after running his mouth and consuming everything edible in sight, finally left but not before dropping the file labeled Venus Astor squarely on my desk. Typical of him. He couldn’t resist throwing in some dramatic flair.
Of course I wanted the file. I’m no fool. I need to know everything about her. Every detail, every shadow she hides in. I can’t afford loopholes not when I’ve come this far. Not when they are still out there thinking they can win. Not after everything they did to me. To \\my mother. They don’t get to walk away. Not this time.
I opened the folder and was greeted by a neatly compiled dossier, Connor’s work, undoubtedly. He’s thorough when he wants to be. Her records were all there: schools attended, from high school to college, every job she’s ever worked. A waitress at one point, which didn’t surprise me. That fire in her eyes? That wasn’t born from comfort.
Then came the family. Her father, a textbook drunk and gambler. No surprises there. Seems I’m not the only one with daddy issues. Her mother? Diagnosed with cancer. That explained why she accepted my offer. Desperation drives decisions faster than logic ever could. And it looked like whatever plan she had before didn’t quite pan out. That made me wonder: What exactly was her original plan? Did she intend to beg? Steal? Or maybe… something riskier?
She’s an only child. Has a best friend Gianna Geoffrey. Loyal to a fault, if Connor’s notes were anything to go by. Still, there was one glaring omission. Something that tugged at the of my mind: her birth details. No records of where she was born. No birth certificate, no hospital file, not even a fake ID
ation. She just appears in the system at age five. Suspicious. I’d have Connor dig deeper. If there’s something buried, he’ll find it. That’s what he does.
I was halfway through examining the attached photos–some of her at school, others from social media, a few candid shots that reeked of surveillance–when the door slammed open. No knock, no courtesy. Just noise, aggression, and an inflated sense of entitlement.
Richard Sinclair.
My sperm donor.
I didn’t even flinch. Instead, I calmly siid the folder into the drawer and closed it with deliberate ease.
“Is it true?!” he thundered.
I looked up with all the boredom I could muster. “Depends on what you’re alleging.”
“You kissed your PA in the lobby?!”
“Guilty,” I said with a lazy smirk, leaning back in my chair.
His face turned an impressive shade of red. “I told you to stop fucking around with your assistants! That’s why I personally hired this one. And now you’ve gone and screwed it up again. You’re dragging the Sinclair name through the mud.”
I tilted my head. “First of all, it’s my company now, not yours. Secondly, who exactly do you think you are, barging in here like a bad plot twist? And third… disappointed in your precious hire, huh?”
That last part hit. I could see it. He clenched his fists, and for a second, I thought he Wouldn’t be the first time we danced
might
that dance.
He sneered. “The company isn’t yours yet. Don’t forget the will.”
Ah, yes. The will. That dann clause that forced me to play this game. Three years of proving I could be a man in love—a man married -to inherit what I built alongside my grandfather from scratch while he drank champagne on someone else’s yacht.
“And I am still your father, he added, puffing his chest out like that meant something.
“Some father. I muttered, brushing imaginary lint off my lapel. “Now, unless you’re here to contribute something remotely useful. I live work to do”
“Get your act together, Aaron, or you’ll regret it.”
1 didn’t respond. Just turned my attention back to the keyboard and typed a random line in the open document. A dismissal, clear and cold. Eventually, he got the message and stormed out the same way he came in–loud, useless, and full of self–importance.
1 exhaled slowly before dialing Connor.
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11:06 AM P P
Chapter 12
“Miss me already?” he answered, voice laced with his usual mischief.
“The old man knows,” I said.
“That fast? Damn, Ronny boy, you don’t waste time.”
He’s the only person who can call me that and live.
“About Venus’s file, some details are missing.”
5 vouchers
“I noticed. It’s weird. It’s like she only started existing at age five. Nothing before that. I’ve been trying to trace any records hospital, school, census but there’s nothing. Either someone wiped it, or she was off the grid.”
That was troubling. I don’t believe in coincidences. Especially not ones this neatly stitched. I didn’t like what it implied. Hidden truths, concealed identities… it reeked of secrets. Dangerous ones.
“Keep digging,” I said. “I want everything. Birthplace, hospital, doctor’s notes, anything that explains that gap.”
“Aye aye captain”
“And Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“No one else gets access to that file. No one.”
“Cross my heart, boss man. I’ll be in touch.”
The call ended, and I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
Venus Astor. Mysterious. Desperate. Beautiful. And now, thanks to that little stunt in the lobby, officially under the scrutiny of Richard Sinclair. That changed everything.
If he thought I was playing a game, he was dead wrong. I was playing war.
Connor had suggested we go on a date tomorrow. A little public outing to solidify the narrative. He was right. Now that Richard was sniffing around, we had to make it look real. We had to sell it like the performance of a lifetime.
The funny part? I already knew so much about her. I could tell you what brand of shampoo she used, how she preferred her coffee, the cadence of her laugh when she wasn’t thinking. But she knew nothing about me. Not really.
And that’s how I like it.
Because the truth about Aaron Sinclair isn’t just messy–it’s a weap
And you don’t hand your weapons to someone you barely trust to hold your secrets.
Not unless you’re willing to bleed.
