Chapter 94 Masked
Ethan didn't bother to conceal the faint smile tugging at his lips as Sir Levi's words sank in. For once, the boardroom didn't feel like a battlefield. His voice softened, carrying a note of genuine gratitude rather than the usual cool edge.
"Thank you, Sir Levi," he said, inclining his head slightly. "Your words mean more than you know. I'm aware of what happened in the past, how my grandfather's age made it easy for certain hands to dig into places they shouldn't have. He built this empire with blood and grit, and it deserved better than to be picked apart when he could no longer see every coin that passed through the books."
His gaze swept the table, calm yet unwavering. "But I'm here now. I don't intend to let his legacy fade into loopholes and greed. This company will rise higher than ever, and I'll see to it with every breath in me."
For a brief moment, the room grew still. There was no arrogance in his tone, no cold steel, just an unshakable resolve tied with gratitude, almost boyish in its openness. Ethan Sinclair, usually untouchable and reserved, allowed a sliver of his heart to show.
His uncles exchanged glances, their satisfaction plain in their eyes. For all their earlier doubts, for all the whispers that a man so young could not possibly shoulder such a vast empire, Ethan had proven them wrong again and again.
There was no denying it, he carried himself with a strength that reminded them of Max, but with a warmth and clarity that was entirely his own. Ethan was not just the heir who had inherited the Sinclair throne; he was shaping into the leader the company needed.
One of the older men allowed a small chuckle. "Impressive," he murmured under his breath, and though it wasn't meant to be heard, the word hung in the air like a quiet seal of approval.
Ethan felt it, an almost familial pride surrounding him. It didn't lessen the weight on his shoulders, but it softened it, if only for a moment.
"We speak of the company, yes," he said, his tone gentler than before, "but that isn't what brought us here today."
Ethan's posture mirrored his shoulders, squaring as he leaned in with quiet attentiveness. There was something about the weight in Sir Levi's words that made his chest tighten, almost like he could already hear his grandfather's voice echoing behind them.
"On Max's deathbed," Sir Levi continued slowly, "he made us promise never to treat you like a boy. He said it would lessen your pride, and worse, it would hinder you from becoming the man you're meant to be. He charged us to let you take everything into your hands, to trust you with the empire he built."
Ethan's throat tightened, but he held his expression steady, his fingers curling slightly against the armrest.
"But," Sir Levi's gaze softened, though his voice remained firm, "he also tasked us with something else, making sure you do the right thing. Not to clip your wings, Ethan, but to keep you from falling when the heights you climb become dangerous."
Ethan sat rigid in his chair, his chest tightening with each pause Sir Levi allowed between his words. Suspense gnawed at him, and though he remained outwardly composed, inside he wished his uncle would just go straight to the point and end the guessing.
Sir Levi continued calmly, his voice steady as if he were simply stating fact. "You are aware that your grandfather's will urged you to marry before the company would be placed fully in your hands."
Ethan's jaw tightened, though he gave a slow nod. Of course he was aware, how could he ever forget the clause that chained his personal life to the empire?
Levi's gaze softened as he went on. "That condition was no accident. The late Max Sinclair was also very keen on family. He didn't want you to build an empire of stone and steel alone. He wanted you anchored, reminded that power without people beside you is empty."
Sir Levi's eyes lingered on Ethan, his voice carrying both firmness and care. "The Sinclair empire is, and has always been, a family empire. That is why your grandfather tied family so closely to business in his will. We must always ensure the next generation is secured, and that they are carried along from a very tender age, just as you were raised under Max's hand."
Ethan listened attentively, every word tightening the knot of suspense in his chest. He could sense it, Sir Levi hadn't reached the heart of the matter yet. The bombshell was coming.
"Ethan," Levi said at last, his tone deliberate, almost fatherly, "the reason your grandfather urged you to marry before entrusting you with the company was not only for companionship. It was to ensure that you would produce an heir shortly after stepping into your role."
The words seemed to echo in the room, heavier than any financial report or boardroom battle.
Levi's eyes held Ethan's, steady and unwavering. "You have been married for some months now. It is time you remembered that your duty does not end at the company's walls. Do not prioritize only the empire, Ethan. Securing the next generation is just as vital, your grandfather believed that with his whole heart."
Ethan couldn't help it, a low laugh escaped him, quiet but edged with disbelief. So that was Max's great reason. Not sentiment, not companionship. Just continuity. The old man had wanted to ensure the empire would live on through blood as much as through steel.
If only they knew... Ethan thought bitterly. If only they knew this marriage could never give them the heir they expected, because it was nothing more than a façade.
He leaned back, his smile masking the silence that had crept over him. Turning to his uncles, he said smoothly, "That is not a problem. You have my word."
But Sir Levi wasn't moved. His gaze locked on Ethan's, sharp as a blade cutting through the charade. "Do not dismiss this so lightly," he said firmly. "If the woman cannot give you children, then you must divorce her and marry someone who can. The Sinclair line cannot end here, Ethan."
Ethan's mind raced. He couldn't allow their suspicion to linger on Lena, not when the marriage itself was a carefully held illusion. He straightened in his seat, shoulders squared, and spoke with a steadiness that surprised even himself.
"That won't be an issue," he said firmly. "She can bear children." His eyes flicked briefly across the table, daring anyone to doubt him. "The truth is, I haven't been intimate with her as I should. My attention has been fixed on the company, on fitting into a place my grandfather carved with such force. I haven't given my marriage the focus it deserves."
The words rolled out smoothly, laced with just enough honesty to mask the lie. It was easier to blame himself, to make it seem like neglect rather than impossibility.