Chapter 16 Seeds of Doubt
I was alone with a glass of wine as companion.
Jack had left hours earlier, moving with that controlled urgency of his—keys already in hand, phone pressed to his ear, mind half a step ahead of the present. He’d said there was a lead his private network wanted him to follow personally. Something time-sensitive. Something that couldn’t wait until morning.
He hadn’t explained further. He rarely did when it came to that part of his life.
He’d kissed the top of my head before leaving, warm and unfamiliar, grounding in a way that had once made my shoulders drop automatically. He promised he’d be back before midnight. The words had felt solid then.
My phone rang.
I had been sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge, one leg tucked beneath me, robe loose around my shoulders, when the screen lit up. The vibration startled me enough that I almost dropped it.
It was Richard.
His name glowed against the dim room like a warning flare.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
What could he possibly want from me now?
My thumb hovered over the screen as the phone buzzed again, insistent. I considered letting it ring out. Letting it disappear into silence the way I’d learned to let so many things disappear.
But something stopped me.
Curiosity, maybe. Or control. Or that darker thing—dread wrapped in the need to face it head-on before it grew teeth.
So I accepted the call.
“Richard,” I said, keeping my voice level, composed. I was proud of that, at least. I sounded like myself. The version of me I trusted.
There was a pause on the other end. Not a technical one. A deliberate one.
“Elena,” he said finally, his voice warm, almost careful. “I hope I’m not disturbing your peace.”
I huffed softly, more breath than sound, and pulled the robe tighter around myself as if that could shield me from the conversation itself.
“That depends on your definition of peace.”
He chuckled lowly, the sound familiar in a way I didn’t like. “Fair. I know you’re wary of me. You should be. But I wouldn’t call if this wasn’t important.”
I didn’t respond.
Silence had always been my strongest weapon with Richard. He filled gaps too easily when left alone with them.
“This is about Jack,” he continued.
My spine stiffened before I could stop it. It was instinctive, almost physical, like my body had reacted faster than my mind. The tone of his voice shifted—heavier now, threaded with something unsaid.
I swallowed. “Go on.”
“You married him quickly and abruptly,” Richard said. “Without anyone's knowledge. I understood it for what it was—a declaration. A rebellion. But have you really looked into him, Elena? Really looked?”
My jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
“What exactly are you trying to say?” I asked.
“I had my people look into him,” he replied smoothly. “As a courtesy to you.”
I scoffed. “How generous.”
“I’m serious,” he said, the warmth dropping away. “Do you know where Jack Roman came from? Who he worked for before he appeared at your side? Or why your father—obsessively protective, paranoid even—allowed him into your inner circle so easily?”
The questions landed one after another, not sharp enough to cut outright, but heavy enough to bruise.
I had asked myself some of those things before. Late at night. In quiet moments I’d brushed aside because they felt inconvenient. Because Jack had been there—solid, present, unwavering.
“I think you underestimate me,” I said tightly. “I did my due diligence.”
“No,” Richard countered gently. Too gently.
“I think you saw a man who offered you escape. Power. A shield. And you grabbed it. But what if that shield has cracks? Or worse—an edge pointed at your back?”
My mouth went dry.
“Jack has ties,” Richard continued, “to a group that once directly competed with your father during the Zurich takeover attempt. A quiet war. Buried. Forgotten by everyone who benefited from the silence. And yet Jack walked out of those shadows and into your life at exactly the right moment. When your father needed someone close to you. Someone who could keep you steady. Or contained.”
My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles burned.
“He’s not what you think, Elena,” Richard said. “Maybe he cares for you. Maybe he doesn’t. But he’s been doing a job for a long time. And people like that don’t just stop.”
The line went dead.
No other explanation, no goodbye. No lingering reassurance. Just absence.
I stared at the wall across from me, my reflection faintly visible in the darkened glass. The room hadn’t changed, nothing had moved, and yet it felt like something fundamental had shifted, like a fault line had cracked open beneath the floor.
I didn’t cry even though it felt exhausting.
My gaze drifted to the balcony doors.
Had I invited the wrong king into my war?
I thought of Jack's hand over mine. His voice in my ear. You’re safe now.
Safe from what?
From whom?
What if the protection I’d wrapped myself in had been designed by the very enemy I was trying to escape?
Don’t go there, I told myself. Not yet.
But the seed of doubt had already been planted.
I stood slowly, my eyes caught on the glass table.
Documents.
Half-redacted files. Employee lists. Maps with subtle markings. Things I had seen before and never questioned.
Now I questioned it all because trust, once cracked, didn’t shatter all at once. It spiderwebbed—quiet, delicate, and lethal.
I poured myself another glass of wine, just one. The taste grounded me, sharp and warm, that I carried it to the bedroom, set it down untouched, and curled onto my bed.
I didn’t want to believe Richard. God, I didn’t. But something inside me had gone still. That inner compass I’d learned to respect—the one that had warned me about Daniel long before the truth surfaced—had stopped spinning.
Now it whispered:
Ask questions.
Look deeper.
Don’t wait to be played again.
I lay there, eyes wide open, and awake.
Then again, whatever game Damien Sinclair was playing, it wasn’t just happening out there in boardrooms and shadows an ymore. It had found its way inside my walls, into my marriage, into the soft spaces I had guarded so carefully. I had been a pushover and a pathetic pawn all my life.
And in this ridiculous game of power, I wasn’t sure who the pieces were anymore. But I knew one thing with unsettling clarity.
I would not be a pawn again.