Chapter 165 Confession and Consequences
Chapter 165 Confession and Consequences
Nathan: POV
I closed the last investment report and shoved it aside, finally letting myself stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my Sinclair Ventures office. The New York skyline glittered in the late afternoon light, the city completely unaware of the shit storm brewing inside me.
"This has to end," I muttered, pulling out my phone and scrolling to my father's contact. "I can't keep lying to her."
I knew what I had to do. Tonight, I'd tell my parents about Mia. The thought made my stomach drop, but underneath the fear was this weird sense of relief.
My thumb hovered over the call button before I pressed it, listening to the rings while my heart pounded.
"Nathan," my father's voice came through, straight to business as always. "I was about to call you about the Singapore numbers."
"Are you and Mom home tonight?" I asked, cutting right past his business talk.
A pause. "Yes. Why?"
"I need to talk to you both. It's important." My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
"It's personal, Dad. I'll be there at seven."
I hung up before he could grill me further. My phone buzzed with a text from Mia: [Had a great day at school! What are your plans tonight?]
I smiled despite my nerves. [Taking care of something important. Will call you later.]
[Important? Everything ok?] She was worried immediately.
[Everything will be. Trust me.] I added a heart emoji—something I'd never done before Mia came into my life.
---
I sat in my car outside my parents' mansion for five minutes, trying to control my breathing. The place had never been welcoming, but tonight it felt hostile.
"You've survived hostile takeovers and market crashes," I told myself. "You can handle your own parents."
Our family's butler opened the door with his usual efficiency.
"Mr. Nathan," he said. "Your parents are in the dining room."
Throughout dinner, I could barely taste anything, running through what I'd say over and over in my head. My mother went on about her charity stuff while my father threw out the occasional business question that I answered without really thinking.
"Nathan, you're somewhere else entirely," my mother finally said. "What's eating at you?"
I put down my fork and took a breath. "I need to talk to you both after dinner. In the study."
My father's eyes sharpened. "We can talk now."
"I'd rather do this in the study," I said, holding his stare.
We had one of those silent standoffs before he gave a curt nod.
---
My father's study had always made me feel like a kid again. The leather books, the massive desk, the family portraits—everything designed to remind you just how much the Sinclair name was supposed to mean.
My father planted himself behind the desk, classic power move. My mother settled on the leather couch, worry written all over her face.
"I've been seeing someone," I started, keeping my voice steady. "Someone who means everything to me."
My mother perked up. "Oh, Nathan, that's wonderful! Who is she?"
I swallowed hard. "It's Mia Lawrence."
The silence that followed was brutal. My father's face didn't change, but I watched his knuckles go white as he gripped the desk.
"Jennifer Lawrence's daughter?" my mother asked, her smile fading fast. "The girl who used to come for Christmas?"
"Yeah," I said.
"The girl who calls you 'Uncle Nathan'?" My father's voice was deadly quiet. "The one who's in her twenties?"
I replied. "And yes, same Mia."
My father shot up from his chair. "Have you completely lost your goddamn mind? She's Jennifer's daughter! You've known her since she was practically a baby!"
"I know how this looks," I said, feeling strangely calm. "I've been fighting this for months, telling myself it was wrong, fucked up, impossible."
"It's not just wrong, Nathan," my father's voice climbed. "It's sick! She's called you 'uncle' her whole life!"
"That was just affection, not blood," I shot back. "We're not related."
"You were supposed to protect her! A trusted family friend!" My father came around the desk, his face red with rage. "Do you have any clue what this will do to our reputation?"
"I love her, Dad," I said simply, the words both terrifying and liberating. "And she loves me."
My father let out a harsh laugh. "Love? You think some kid her age knows what she wants? You're taking advantage of everything she trusted you with!"
"I would never hurt Mia," I said, my voice getting harder. "This isn't some impulse."
"Nathan," my mother cut in quietly, "have you thought about what people will say? What they'll assume?"
"Yeah," I said honestly. "I've thought about nothing else. But I'm not letting fear of gossip keep me from the woman I love."
My father walked to a cabinet in the corner, pulling out an old leather belt, folding it in half.
"You're acting like a child, so maybe you need to be treated like one," he said coldly.
I felt this weird mix of shock and resignation. He hadn't used that belt on me since I was seventeen.
"If that's what you think you need to do," I said quietly, "I won't fight you. But it won't change how I feel about Mia."
My mother stood up, alarmed. "Cassius, surely you don't need to—"
I held up my hand. "It's okay, Mom."
"Turn around," my father ordered.
I did, taking off my suit jacket and gripping the back of the leather chair.
The first hit burned across my back, almost making me gasp. The second came faster, harder.
"You think you can just destroy that girl's life?" My father's voice cracked with each strike. " No way."
"Maybe I don't deserve her," I admitted through gritted teeth, "but I'll spend every day trying to."
Another strike hit right between my shoulder blades. I sucked in air but didn't make a sound.
"There are thousands of appropriate women out there," he continued, breathing hard. "Women your age, from decent families."
I replied, voice strained but steady. "But none of them were Mia."
Three more hits in quick succession. I could feel welts forming under my shirt.
"Your feelings don't run your life, Nathan," my father said, his voice almost sad now. "Responsibility does. Duty. Family legacy."
The belt came down one last time before he threw it aside. "Think about what you're throwing away. Really think."
He walked out without another word, leaving me gripping the chair, my back on fire.
---
"You don't have to do this," I told my mother as she dabbed antiseptic on the welts in my old bedroom.
"Hold still," she said softly. "These need attention."
I winced as the cotton hit a particularly nasty welt. "I knew he'd be pissed, but I didn't expect... that."
"Your father's old school," she said carefully. "Are you sure you can give Mia what she needs? Protection, stability, guidance without being controlling?"
"I am," I said without hesitation. "I've got security handled, thought through every angle. I'll make sure this relationship never hurts her."
"And what about her other needs?" my mother pressed. "The attention she'll get? How her whole life will change?"
I nodded slowly. "Every day. That's why I waited so long. But I've seen how strong she is. We can handle this together."
My mother finished with the last bandage. "Then prove it's not just talk, Nathan. Show her with your actions that you can actually protect her."
She squeezed my hand and left, closing the door quietly.
---
Alone in my childhood bedroom, I went to the window, pushing it open to let the cool night air hit my burning back. The pain was actually helping, making everything clearer, my resolve stronger.
The moon hung low and bright over the estate. Mia had told me once that moonlight made her feel safe and hopeful. "It's the same moon wherever you are," she'd said. "So we're never really apart."
I pulled out my phone, looking at her picture—the one I'd taken at the beach last year, her hair messy from the wind, that carefree smile. The pain in my back seemed like nothing compared to what I'd lose if I backed down now.
"I meant every word," I whispered to the empty room. "Whatever it costs me, I will protect you, Mia."
I stared at the moon, making a promise. "This isn't just words anymore. Even if everyone's against us, I will never let anyone hurt you."