Chapter 14 SOPHIE
Margarete Sinclair sat in her sunlit study, every detail of the room as refined and poised as she was. At sixty, she was the picture of timeless elegance flawless skin, soft waves of silver-blonde hair swept into a chignon.she carried herself with quiet authority and an unshakable sense of dignity.
Her phone buzzed on the glass table beside her. The screen lit up: Jully Braith.
Of course. Jully. The ever smiling, ever-prying wife of a top politician. A woman Margarete had tolerated for years not because she liked her, but because social etiquette demanded it.
She answered with a cool, polished tone. "Jully."
"Margarete, darling," Jully purred, feigning concern. "I just wanted to check in. I know how stressful things can be when family matters hit the headlines."
Margarete's back straightened ever so slightly. "What are you referring to?"
"Oh dear... you haven't seen? Ethan he flew his ex-girlfriend to Rome. During his honeymoon," Jully gasped, too delighted to hide it. "It's all over the blogs. People are talking."
Margarete didn't flinch. She simply reached for her teacup and took a slow, deliberate sip.
Jully laughed awkwardly. "No malice, of course. I just hope it doesn't tarnish the Sinclair reputation. You know how ruthless the press can be."
Margarete's voice remained composed. "We Sinclairs don't crumble over headlines, Jully. But thank you for your... concern."
Jully hummed something insincere before Margarete ended the call with the barest flick of her finger.
Her pleasant mask slipped the moment the line went dead.
She immediately dialed another number.
"Ethan," she said sharply the second he picked up. "Explain to me, now, what this nonsense is about your ex showing up in Rome."
Margarete didn't care who Ethan married. In her world, marriage was never about love it was about power, legacy, and uniting empires. And the Sinclair empire was big enough to accommodate a nobody. What mattered to her wasn't status or emotion it was image. And she was fiercely committed to keeping the Sinclair name spotless.
Ethan's phone lit up. Mother.
He sighed, answering with his usual calm.
"Mother."
Margarete's voice was sharp. "Why is Vivienne being photographed at the Rome estate? On your honeymoon?"
"She showed up uninvited," Ethan replied coolly. "Sending her away would've caused a scene. My team is handling it PR, legal, everything."
Margarete's tone turned ice cold. "I don't care how it happened. The Sinclair name doesn't belong in gossip columns. This marriage was meant to secure the brand, not embarrass it."
"I'm managing it."
"You'd better. Get rid of the girl quietly. No more headlines, Ethan. I won't warn you again."
She ended the call.
Ethan set the phone down, jaw tight. He may have been in control of everything except his mother.
Sophie stepped out of the car, adjusting her sunglasses as she approached the grand Sinclair estate.She had come to check on Margarete casually, of course but mostly to spend time with the woman she admired and feared in equal measure.
She was barely through the door when she spotted Margarete in the sitting room, perfectly dressed in cream silk, seated with her legs crossed and an untouched cup of tea in front of her.
"Mother!" Sophie smiled, hurrying in for a hug.
Margarete didn't stand. Her expression was unreadable calm, cold, composed.
Sophie paused halfway. "Is everything alright?"
Without a word, Margarete picked up her tablet from the side table and handed it to her.
Sophie looked down.
"Billionaire Ethan Sinclair Flies Ex-Girlfriend to Rome During His Honeymoon"
Underneath, a photo of Vivienne entering the Sinclair estate.
Sophie's eyes widened. "Oh my God. Sophie acted shock but she had already seen the new."
"For decades," Margarete interrupted, her voice clipped and precise, "the Sinclair name has been spotless. Built on power, credibility, and restraint. We don't entertain drama. We don't attract chaos."
She looked directly at Sophie now, eyes sharp. "And we certainly don't let ex-girlfriends stroll into family estates during honeymoons."
Sophie swallowed hard, the weight of the Sinclair legacy pressing down like stone.
Sophie carefully set her bag down and looked up at her mother.
"Mom," she began, her voice calm but firm, she had to pick her words correctly, she knows how Margerate can get.
"this isn't Ethan's fault. This is Vivienne, she's the one stirring the pot."
Margarete raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And he let her walk right into our home."
Margarete looked over, silent but listening.
" she came to my shop, and now that I think about it, something wasn't right." Sophie said erily while thinking and trying to piss everything together
"She wasn't just asking random questions she kept going on about Ethan. Asking what kind of woman Lena was, how long the marriage had been planned, even saying things like maybe the wedding was just a publicity stunt."
"She sure she blindsided him," Sophie said quickly. "She showed up uninvited and used the press to make it look intentional. That headline? It's exactly what she wanted." She said piecing it all together
Margarete's eyes narrowed, but she didn't interrupt.
"She's not trying to win Ethan back, she's trying to humiliate him. Humiliate us. She knew it would blow up online. She wanted to ruin the honeymoon and drag the Sinclair name into scandal."
Margarete exhaled slowly, her fingers tapping the armrest.
"She's pushing a narrative that isn't true," Sophie added. "But that's exactly why we can't overreact. The moment we do, she wins."
For a long moment, Margarete said nothing. Then she gave a small nod, just once tight, measured.
"I want her gone," she said flatly. "Without noise. Without headlines."
"Mom, I know you're upset and you have every right to be. But Ethan will handle it. He always does. He might distant, even careless at times, but when it comes to protecting the Sinclair name, he doesn't play around. He knows what's at stake. Let him fix this the way he knows how quietly, cleanly. You raised him for moments like this. Trust him."
Margarete studied Sophie for a long moment, then gave a slow, approving nod. Some of the tension in her shoulders eased.
"You always did have a way with words," she murmured, her voice softer now.
Sophie smiled. "Well, I did grow up watching you handle boardrooms and backstabbers with one look."
Margarete let out a light, elegant laugh the first sign of warmth all morning. "Yes, and you learned well. Better than your brother, sometimes."
Sophie smirked. "Don't let him hear that."
Margarete sipped her tea at last. "He'll handle it. He knows what this family means."
"And so do we," Sophie added gently.