Chapter Sixteen: Shadows and Secrets

The days at Sinclair Enterprises blurred together—a tightrope walk between keeping Eleanor happy and keeping Liam hidden in plain sight.

Every time Mia passed Eleanor in the hallway, she felt a cold knot in her stomach, bracing for a question that never came—yet.

But today was different.

Today, Eleanor asked her to stay after hours.

The moment the request left the older woman's lips, Mia's chest tightened.

She tried to keep her face neutral, nodding as if this was just another long night of work. But as she sent a hurried text to the daycare, asking Miss Clara to keep Liam for just a little longer, her fingers trembled.

This wasn't good.

Mia knew something was coming. She could feel it.

She sat across from Eleanor in the dimly lit office, her pen poised, trying to take notes as her boss reviewed contracts in a slow, measured tone.

But the silence between words felt too thick—too dangerous.

Then Eleanor finally spoke.

"You have a child."

Mia's pen faltered mid-sentence.

For a split second, she considered lying—denying it, brushing it off—but Eleanor wasn't someone you could lie to.

"Yes," Mia said carefully.

A beat of silence. Then Eleanor's gaze sharpened, like a blade poised to cut through the truth.

"And his father?"

The room seemed to shrink around Mia.

Her grip on the pen tightened, knuckles white.

"Not involved," she said, keeping her voice steady.

But it was too late. The hesitation had already given her away.

Eleanor leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin.

"I see."

Mia felt like the floor had vanished beneath her.

The air in the office was heavy, suffocating.

Then—the words that nearly stopped her heart.

"And yet, there's something familiar about him."

Mia's entire body went rigid.

Every instinct screamed at her to stay calm, to play it off, to run.

But she forced a smile—tight, controlled.

"I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

Eleanor didn't reply.

She just sat there, watching.

Like a predator studying prey, waiting for the moment to strike.

Mia swallowed against the tightness in her throat.

She knows something.

And if she knew, it was only a matter of time before Adrian found out, too.

Adrian

A thousand miles away, Adrian Sinclair sat in his penthouse, another glass of whiskey untouched beside him.

Outside, the city lights stretched far and wide, but his world felt unbearably small.

It had been seven years.

Seven years of searching, of hoping, of chasing a ghost that had vanished into thin air.

And now, he was running out of time.

His grandmother's ultimatum echoed in his mind—

"Marry Victoria, or lose your place in this family."

Adrian clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the glass until the crystal threatened to shatter.

He didn't care about the company.

He didn't care about the legacy.

What he cared about was her.

Mia.

The woman who had left him with nothing but a memory—and a gnawing feeling that something was missing.

He ran a hand down his face, frustration curling inside him like a storm.

"Where the hell are you?"

Then—his phone buzzed.

He nearly ignored it, but something made him check.

Caleb.

His most trusted investigator.

Adrian answered immediately. "Tell me you have something."

Caleb's voice was tight.

"Sir… you might want to sit down."

Adrian's pulse spiked.

"What is it?"

A long pause.

"There's been… a lead."

Adrian shot to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor.

"Where?"

Another pause.

"Everdale."

The world tilted.

Adrian's breath came sharp and shallow. Everdale.

It wasn't much, but it was the first real lead in years.

"What did you find?" Adrian pressed, his voice a knife's edge.

Caleb hesitated.

"Not her. But… a woman at Sinclair Enterprises' Everdale branch. The assistant to Mrs. Sinclair."

Adrian's stomach dropped.

"And?"

Caleb exhaled slowly, like he was about to detonate a bomb.

"She has a son."

The room went silent.

The only sound was the distant hum of the city outside.

Adrian's grip tightened on the phone.

"A son?" he repeated, his voice hollow.

"Yes," Caleb confirmed. Carefully. Too carefully.

A slow, twisting dread curled inside Adrian's chest.

"How old?"

Another long pause.

"From what I've gathered… the boy is about six years old."

Adrian felt the ground rip out from under him.

The air left his lungs.

Six years old.

Six.

His mind raced back—seven years ago—to that night.

To her.

The way she had looked at him. The way she had disappeared without a trace.

A son.

A boy the right age.

Adrian's vision blurred.

His fingers curled into a fist, his pulse hammering.

"Sir?" Caleb asked cautiously.

Adrian could barely speak.

"You think he's mine."

Caleb hesitated.

"I think it's too much of a coincidence to ignore."

Adrian's entire world shifted.

Mia had disappeared for seven years.

Had she been hiding his child all this time?

Had she carried his son—raised his son—without telling him?

And if she had…

Why?