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Chapter 6 - Chapter six

The weight of that message lingered in my mind as I walked through the cold, sleek hallways of Reynolds Enterprises. It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my chest, leaving me numb, detached from everything around me. I shoved my phone back into my pocket and tried to focus, but the shadows of doubt crept in, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

I reached my office, taking a deep breath as I pushed open the door. The large windows overlooking the city were still covered in the early morning mist, but the view was stunning, as it always was. If there was one thing I had always appreciated about this building, it was the commanding presence it offered. It was mine. The empire my father had built and handed over to me, piece by piece.

But now, with Sinclair pulling the strings in the background, I wasn't so sure it was really mine anymore.

As I sat behind my desk, my thoughts kept drifting back to Aurora. It was easy to hate her father, to see him as the villain in this tangled web. But Aurora? She didn't deserve to be caught in the middle of all this. She had no idea what was at stake, what Sinclair was truly capable of. She probably thought I was just another arrogant businessman with no soul.

But the truth was more complicated. I wasn't just some cold, detached CEO. I was a man trapped by my past, by the choices my family made for me. And now, I was forced to marry the woman who represented everything I hated about my own circumstances.

It wasn't just about Sinclair anymore. It wasn't just about the blackmail.

It was about me taking control of my own destiny.

The door opened, and my assistant, Clara, walked in, a stack of papers in her hands. "Morning, Mr. Reynolds," she said, her voice cheerful as always.

I didn't respond at first. Instead, I motioned for her to place the papers on my desk, my eyes scanning over the top sheet. "Anything urgent?"

Clara hesitated for a moment, a small frown crossing her features before she nodded. "Yes, actually. You have a meeting with Sinclair in an hour. He's insistent about it."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Sinclair was always insistent, but that was to be expected from a man like him. I could practically hear his voice now, smooth and calculating, like the venomous serpent he was.

"I'll be ready," I said, standing up and walking toward the window. I needed a moment to collect myself before facing him again.

Clara lingered for a moment, clearly sensing my tension. "Is everything alright, Mr. Reynolds?"

I turned to face her, offering a forced smile. "Everything's fine. Just… handling some things."

She nodded, her expression still uncertain, but she knew better than to press. Clara had been with me long enough to understand when I needed space. She left the office without another word.

As the minutes ticked by, I found myself replaying the situation over and over in my mind. This marriage was more than a business deal—it was a trap, and Sinclair knew it.

But what if it wasn't?

What if I could turn the tables on him?

I didn't want to marry Aurora. But that was the least of my concerns. If I could somehow use this situation to my advantage, if I could uncover what Sinclair was really up to, I might still have a chance to control my fate.

But first, I had to face him.

---

The meeting with Sinclair went exactly how I expected. He was smooth, self-assured, and utterly disarming. He sat across from me with that same smug smile, making it clear he was enjoying every second of this.

"You seem to be taking this well, Daemon," he said, his fingers steepled together in front of him. "I expected more resistance."

I didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, I leaned back in my chair, adopting the cold, indifferent persona I had perfected over the years. "I'm not the one who's resisting here, Sinclair. You're the one who's forcing this."

His smirk deepened. "You know, I have to admit, I'm impressed by your composure. Most people in your position would have lost their temper by now."

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing. "What's your game, Sinclair? What are you really after?"

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Straight to the point. I like that. But you know, sometimes it's not about what I'm after. It's about what you're afraid of losing."

The words hung in the air like a threat, and I could feel my pulse quicken. I didn't flinch, though. I couldn't. I had to remain in control.

"You're playing with fire," I said, keeping my voice steady. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

He laughed softly, but there was no warmth in it. "Oh, I know exactly what you're capable of, Daemon. That's why you're here, in this position, trying to negotiate with me. Because you know you don't have a choice."

The words hit harder than I expected, but I masked my reaction. Sinclair had me by the throat, and there was nothing I could do about it—at least not yet.

"Just remember, Sinclair," I said quietly, "no one is untouchable. Not even you."

His smile faltered for a fraction of a second, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had come.

"You'll learn," he said, his voice low, almost intimate. "Everyone has a breaking point. Even you."

I stood up, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. "I'll be in touch, Sinclair. But know this—I'm not afraid of you."

He stood as well, his eyes never leaving mine. "We'll see about that."

As I turned to leave, I felt the weight of his gaze on my back.

And deep down, I knew he was right about one thing—I didn't have a choice. Not yet.

But I would.

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