Chapter 9: Cracks in the Armor

Chapter 9: Cracks in the Armor

Elena had spent enough time around Jason Sinclair to know one thing: he was always in control. Every glance, every word, every movement—it was calculated, deliberate. But something about tonight felt off.

It started at dinner.

Jason had barely touched his food, his grip on his wine glass a little too tight, his jaw clenched as if warding off an invisible attack. He had excused himself abruptly, leaving Elena alone at the table, which was unusual. Jason never left a scene unfinished.

Curiosity gnawed at her, though she told herself it was nothing. Jason's problems weren't hers to care about.

And yet, later that night, when she passed by his home office, she hesitated.

The door was slightly ajar, the light spilling into the hallway. Jason sat behind his desk, the glow from his laptop casting sharp shadows on his face. His suit jacket was draped over the chair, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone. But what caught Elena's attention wasn't his disheveled state—it was the sheer exhaustion in his eyes.

She had come intending to discuss a business matter—one of her mother's former suppliers had just been acquired by a Sinclair subsidiary, and she wanted answers. But as she watched Jason, that agenda faltered.

"When was the last time you slept?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Jason didn't look up, merely continued typing. "That's an interesting way to start a conversation."

Elena folded her arms. "It's a valid question."

Jason sighed, rubbing his temples. "I don't need sleep. I function just fine without it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Liar."

He finally glanced at her, amusement flickering across his otherwise fatigued expression. "I don't see how my sleeping habits concern you."

Elena exhaled. Maybe they shouldn't. But she had watched her father burn himself out like this—working himself into the ground, refusing to slow down until it was too late. And the wreckage left behind had been hers to clean up.

"You might think you're invincible, Jason, but even you have limits," she said, stepping further into the room. "Wouldn't want your empire to suffer just because its king refuses to rest."

Jason smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Are you offering to tuck me in?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. But I am suggesting that if you collapse in the middle of some high-profile meeting, it might not be great for business."

Jason exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "You really are relentless."

Elena tilted her head. "And you're not as untouchable as you pretend to be."

A Rare Moment of Vulnerability

Jason stood abruptly, stretching his shoulders before moving to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. Elena watched as he took a measured sip, his jaw tightening.

"You ever feel like there's too much noise in your head?" he asked suddenly.

Elena blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. "Sometimes," she admitted. "But I don't drown it out with whiskey."

Jason chuckled dryly. "No, you drown it out with stubbornness and impulsive decisions."

Elena smirked. "And yet, here we are."

Jason swirled the glass in his hand, his gaze distant. "I sleep less because it's easier that way."

Elena frowned. "Easier?"

Jason's grip on the glass tightened slightly. "Because when I close my eyes, the past has a way of catching up to me."

Elena's breath hitched slightly. She had expected deflection, maybe even sarcasm. But not this.

"What happened?" she asked, her tone softer now.

Jason looked at her for a long moment before shaking his head. "Nothing that concerns you."

Elena wanted to press further, but she knew better than to push a man like Jason Sinclair when he wasn't ready to talk. Still, the fact that he had admitted even that much meant something.

She sighed and turned toward the door. "Try to get some rest, Jason. Contrary to what you believe, you're still human."

Before she could leave, his voice stopped her. "Elena."

She turned back, surprised at the way her name sounded coming from him—less like a challenge, more like a… plea.

"Thank you," he said, so quietly she almost didn't hear it.

She didn't respond, just held his gaze for a moment longer before walking away.

And as she left, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just seen a part of Jason Sinclair that no one else ever had.