Chapter 63
The air pressure in the hospital room seemed to crash to freezing in an instant.
James's tall frame went rigid, his gaze locked on Jasper's thin, pale stomach—on the mess of bruises there, blue and purple layered over each other, some already turning a terrifying blackish red.
It felt like the oxygen had been sucked clean out of the room.
Just a few steps away from Isabella, James stood half in shadow, his expression almost blending into the night beyond the window. The violence rolling off him spun out of control, a dark storm that felt like it could grind the entire building into dust and swallow even the bones.
Aubrey Hagen, the special assistant who had been waiting outside, sensed something was wrong inside the moment he cracked the door open. The wave of icy pressure that hit him made his whole body shudder; cold sweat broke across his back at once.
Ever since Isabella had run away from home with Jasper, none of them had had a peaceful day. Now, someone had actually dared to do this to Jasper right under James's nose?
The level of fury this time was enough to burn all of Novaria to the ground.
Aubrey shut his eyes for a second in despair. His legs were trembling. "Mr. Sinclair—"
"Find out who did it."
"In ten minutes, I want to know exactly who laid a hand on him at Noble Dreams Academy. If you're one second late, you can jump off the roof yourself."
Aubrey bolted out of the room, stumbling over his own feet.
Inside, Isabella's face was cold as she gently pulled Jasper's shirt back down, covering the bruises again.
She didn't look at James, but her chest was tight with bitter mockery.
For those three dark, endless years, whenever something happened, all she had done was complain to him like some pathetic, resentful wife, only to be met with his impatient, stony face.
She'd long since stopped counting on him. And now he wanted to put on this killing-father act—for whose benefit, exactly?
Less than five minutes later, Aubrey rushed back in, breathless and sweating, a tablet clutched in his hands.
"It's clear." His Adam's apple bobbed; even his voice shook. "It was a group of upperclassmen. The ringleader's name is Jack. The cameras show they locked Jasper in the boys' bathroom and used a soccer ball to hit him."
"Who does he belong to?" The black rage in James's eyes churned violently.
"He's the youngest son of the Wilson Family." Aubrey dragged his sleeve across his forehead, forcing himself to go on. "Mr. Sinclair, the Wilson Family is our key partner on that ten-billion-dollar energy deal in the Amber District. The board is very focused on that project, if we—"
Isabella's lashes lowered as she silently turned those words over in her mind, a humorless smile tugging at her lips.
Of course. In a man like James's world, what could ever outweigh ten billion dollars in profit?
He was, after all, a businessman who worshiped the bottom line. How could he possibly risk offending a major client over a son he'd ignored for six years?
With that thought, Isabella lifted her eyes, her movements lazy, already about to suggest she take Jasper to get justice herself.
"Pull out."
Aubrey's eyes flew wide. "Mr. Sinclair, what did you say?! If we unilaterally terminate, we'll have to pay a billion dollars in penalties. The board—"
"Do you need me to repeat myself?"
James's sidelong glance cut over like a blade, that cool gaze filled with a bloodthirsty ruthlessness. "Notify Legal. Effective immediately, terminate all cooperation with the Wilson Family. Every single hole in their finances, you can find—send it all to the FBI."
Aubrey sucked in a sharp breath. This wasn't just cutting ties with the Wilson Family. This was throwing them straight into the meat grinder.
Isabella froze, stunned, her eyes drifting toward the man almost against her will.
Was he really walking away from a ten-billion-dollar deal?
James didn't spare a glance for Aubrey's horrified expression. He turned instead and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, slid his arms under Jasper and lifted him from the hospital bed.
Cradling Jasper against his chest, he lowered his head and looked at Isabella. The icy severity in his eyes had softened, replaced—almost unbelievably—with a hint of cautious, tentative pleading.
"Change your clothes," James said quietly, his voice gentler than she'd heard in years, like he was afraid of startling her. "I'll take you both to the school. Whatever Jasper went through, I'll make sure they pay it back a thousand times over."
Half an hour later.
Noble Dreams Academy, principal's office.
The office looked warm and pleasant on the surface, lamplight soft over polished wood and leather.
Hestia Sharp sat perched on a leather sofa in an expensive custom suit, coffee cup balanced delicately in her manicured hand. She stirred it lazily, eyes half-lidded with boredom.
"And for something this minor, they had to drag me down here in person?" Hestia's tone was casual, almost amused. "It's just kids messing around with each other. That Sinclair kid is a loner. A few bumps and bruises are inevitable."
"Yes, Mrs. Wilson, you're absolutely right." The principal's face folded into a servile smile.
"I heard that so-called stepmom of his is about to have a kid of her own," Hestia sneered. "Who's got time to care whether he lives or dies?"
She let out a cold little laugh. "Besides, the Sinclair Group needs us right now. The Wilson Family is their lifeline on this deal. They wouldn't dare make trouble with us, even if you gave them a hundred spines."
The words had barely left her mouth when a deafening crash split the air. The heavy double doors slammed open, wood banging against the walls as if someone had driven a battering ram through them.
Hestia shrieked, her hand jerking; scalding coffee splashed all over her expensive outfit.
Dust floated in the air. James stepped through the doorway in a perfectly tailored black suit, every inch of him radiating danger. He looked like something that had clawed its way out of hell, lethal and barely leashed.
At his side stood the cool, untouchable Isabella, Jasper trembling in her arms.
The moment James crossed the threshold, the temperature in the principal's office seemed to plunge to absolute zero.
The fat on the principal's cheeks quivered; his knees almost gave out. "Mr. Sinclair! What an honor to have you here in person!"
At the sound of Mr. Sinclair, Hestia blinked, caught off guard for a heartbeat before her lips curled into a superior smirk.
"So that's what all the drama was about." She rose to her feet, looking him up and down with shameless arrogance. "Mr. Sinclair, perfect timing. Your Sinclair Group is practically begging us for this partnership. Since you're a smart man, you should know how to discipline that unruly son of yours. Kicking down doors over something this trivial? That's really beneath you."
James didn't give her so much as a glance.
He looked down instead, his gaze landing on Jasper curled into Isabella's arms. When he spoke, his tone was unhurried, almost polite, but there was a cold cruelty underneath that made the hairs on the back of the neck stand up.
"Jasper, was it him who hit you?"
He pointed at the chubby white boy trying to hide behind the sofa.
"That's him." Isabella didn't wait for Jasper to answer. Her eyes sharpened like blades as she stared the mother and son down, a humorless laugh slipping from her lips. "Mrs. Wilson, this is what passes for manners in your family? I've seen street thugs act better."
"Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that!" Hestia's eyes bulged with anger. "James, you're just going to stand there and let this woman ruin a billion-dollar partnership between our families?"
"Partnership?" Isabella sounded as if she'd just heard the punch line of a joke.
Her lashes lifted, her gaze sweeping lazily over the outraged Hestia. Her voice turned soft and cutting. "James has more money and more power than you could dream of. Even if he tossed ten billion dollars into the ocean just to hear the splash, it'd still be better than doing business with trash like you. Where did you get the confidence to say something like that?"