ick
y my father's executive board and a handful of relatives who were looking at me like vultures waiting for a final breath. Today was the day John Sinclair's will would
the grave, was a man who
roup, alongside the management rights to the Chicago Mustangs, shall pass directly to my son, Garrick Sinclair. However, this transfer is stric
l over the room. Then
le scoffed. "Garri
the quiet arrangements he had made behind the scenes-it all clicked into place. He hadn't just known about my sudden mar
er to ensure you embrace the weight of family responsibility. Should this marr
her's legacy, and the team I had bled for would be ripped from my hands. I couldn't just walk aw
bell chimed overhead, and the humid air, thick with the scent of eucalyptus and damp earth, immedia
soil. When she looked up and saw me, her expression instantly shifted from peaceful to guarded. She was
er exactly what had just happ
clatter. "You're just telling me this now?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of disbeli
ather was just trying to manage a PR crisis. I had no idea h
stance herself from the madness of my world. We were
a respectful distance. "Just temporarily. Until the estate is fully settled
ation. "I am not one of your corporate assets, Garrick
for a better payout. She was furious because her autonomy had been stripped away. For the first time, I realized the depth of my mis
g. "Then you respect me. No more throwing money
n ears. "I will protect you from the board. I will protect you from
nounce the marriage so you get your team," she finally said, layi
ant armor I usually wore. "And Cecelia... I'm
instant forgiveness, but she gave a sin
flurry of notifications lit up the screen. The Sinclair media mac
at the break
ptain Garrick Sincl
of Chicago was tethered to a woman with absolutely no ties to our elite
/1/126867/coverbig.jpg?v=cfaf188ea646d23182e7767208d0586e&imageMogr2/format/webp)