The Sinclair Estate sat on two hundred acres in the Hamptons, a sprawling testament to old money and older power. As our car passed through the iron gates, I felt something in my chest loosen. I hadn't realized how tightly I'd been holding myself together until now.
My father was waiting on the front steps, silver-haired and distinguished in his tailored suit. At sixty-five, Richard Sinclair still commanded every room he entered. He was the CEO of Sinclair Global, a conglomerate with
holdings in technology, real estate, energy, and about a dozen other sectors. Forbes estimated our family's net worth at somewhere north of forty billion dollars.
Marcus's entire company could have been our rounding error.
"Livvy," my father said, opening his arms.
I fell into his embrace, breathing in his familiar cologne. "Hi, Dad."
"It's done?
"It's done."
He pulled back, studying my face
with those sharp blue eyes that had intimidated countless boardroom opponents. "Any regrets?"
"Only that I wasted three years."
"Not wasted." He guided me inside, where our housekeeper, Mrs. Chen—no relation to Marcus, thankfully—was waiting with tea service in the solarium. "You learned something important. You learned that hiding who you are only attracts people who can't appreciate who you really are."
I sank into the familiar comfort of the cream sofa, accepting the delicate china cup Mrs. Chen offered. "Is that your diplomatic way of saying 'I told you so'?"
"I would never." His eyes twinkled. "That's your mother's job. She'll be here for dinner, by the way. She's flying in from the London office."
My mother, Catherine Sinclair née Montgomery, was the COO of Sinclair Global and came from her own dynasty of British aristocracy. She'd been against my "social experiment" from the start.
"How much groveling will I have to do?""Minimal. She's just happy you're home." He set down his cup. "Now. Let's talk about your future. You've been away from the company for three years. Your position as VP of Strategic Acquisitions is still waiting for you, but if you'd prefer something else—"
"I want it," I said immediately. "I want to work, Dad. I need to work. I need to remember who I am."
"You never forgot, darling. You just put it aside for a while." He smiled. "Your first day back is Monday. I've already had your office prepared. And Livvy? I'm glad you're home."
That evening, dinner with my mother went better than expected.She took one look at me, said "Well, that's finished then," and proceeded to catch me up on three years of family business, society gossip, and the various men who'd been "absolutely devastated" when I'd disappeared to play house with Marcus Chen.
"The Whitmore boy never married, you know," she mentioned casually over dessert. "He's running his family's investment firm now. Quite successfully."
"Mom."
"I'm just saying, darling. You're only twenty-eight. Still plenty of time."
"I just got divorced six hours ago."
"Details." She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, and you'll need to attend the Metropolitan Charity Gala next month. The whole family is expected."
My father caught my eye across the table and gave me a sympathetic look.
After dinner, I retreated to my childhood bedroom, now preserved like a museum to my teenage self. I stood at the window, looking out over the moonlit grounds, and pulled out my phone.
I had thirty-seven missed calls. Twenty from my best friend Sophia, ten from my brother Alexander, five from various family members, and two from—
I stared at the screen.
Two from Marcus.
I deleted the notifications without listening to the voicemails.
A text came through from Sophia: EMERGENCY BRUNCH TOMORROW. 11AM. MASA TAKAYAMA. DON'T YOU DARE SAY NO.
I smiled and texted back: I'll be there.
Another text, this time from my brother: Heard you're back. Dad gave me permission to destroy Chen if you want. Just say the word.
Down, boy, I replied. But I'll keep that offer in reserve.
I fell asleep in my old bed, in my old room, in my family home, and for the first time in three years, I didn't have a single nightmare about not being good enough.