PROLOGUE
866 Words
PROLOGUE
The day Grey Sinclair arrived at Hawthorne Industries, d**k Hawthorne decided he disliked him before they’d even spoken.
Which, in hindsight, should’ve warned him this was going to become a problem.
Rain hammered against the glass walls of the executive tower while the city blurred silver beneath storm clouds. Inside the forty-third-floor boardroom, senior executives sat in tense silence around polished black marble waiting for Richard Hawthorne Sr. to arrive.
Dick barely looked up from the acquisition reports spread across the table.
“You’re late,” he said coldly as the boardroom doors finally opened.
“Traffic,” his father answered simply.
Dick’s irritation sharpened automatically. Richard Hawthorne Sr. hated lateness. The fact that he sounded unconcerned about it somehow made it worse.
Then d**k noticed the man standing beside him.
Tall.
Dark suit.
Calm expression.
Grey Sinclair.
Dick recognized him instantly from the photographs buried in old tabloids years ago beside his mother—the woman Richard Hawthorne Sr. had quietly kept in his life for nearly two decades.
Most people assumed the relationship had ended after her death six months ago.
Apparently not.
The room shifted subtly with interest.
Executives exchanged careful glances.
Nobody spoke.
Richard Hawthorne Sr. walked toward the head of the table like nothing unusual had happened. “This meeting will begin with an announcement.”
Dick leaned back slightly in his chair.
Already irritated.
Grey remained near the doorway, composed under the scrutiny of an entire executive board. Not nervous. Not defensive.
That immediately annoyed d**k further.
“You’ll all be working closely with Grey Sinclair moving forward,” Richard said calmly. “Effective immediately, he’ll be joining Hawthorne Industries as Chief Financial Officer.”
Silence.
Actual silence.
Even the rain outside seemed quieter.
Dick stared at his father.
Then at Grey.
Then back again.
“You appointed a CFO,” d**k said slowly, “without consulting the board?”
“The board has already been informed.”
Dick’s jaw tightened. “Interesting. Because this is apparently my first time hearing about it.”
“You were unavailable this weekend.”
“I was in Zurich finalizing the Mercer acquisition.”
“And now you’re back.”
The dismissal landed cleanly.
Deliberately.
Dick felt several executives carefully avoiding eye contact.
Cowards.
His attention shifted toward Grey again.
Still calm.
Still silent.
As if being dropped into one of the most powerful corporations in the country under openly hostile circumstances didn’t bother him at all.
That composure felt calculated.
Dick disliked calculated people.
“Mr. Sinclair’s credentials speak for themselves,” Richard continued evenly. “His financial restructuring work in London exceeded projections three consecutive years.”
“So we’re hiring based on merit now?” d**k asked smoothly.
A dangerous pause followed.
Several people suddenly became very interested in their tablets.
Richard Hawthorne Sr. looked at his son without expression. “Careful, Dick.”
Grey finally spoke then.
His voice was lower than d**k expected. Controlled.
“If this appointment creates operational concerns, I’m happy to address them directly.”
Dick turned toward him fully for the first time.
And immediately understood why the room felt different since he’d entered it.
Grey looked at people too directly.
Not aggressively.
Worse.
Like he noticed more than he said.
Dick hated that instantly.
“There’s no operational concern,” d**k replied coolly. “I simply prefer understanding why strangers are handed executive positions inside my company.”
Something flickered briefly behind Grey’s eyes.
Not anger.
Recognition.
“My mother spent fifteen years with Richard Hawthorne,” Grey said evenly. “I wasn’t aware that qualified as stranger.”
The room went still again.
Dick’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly.
There it was.
The truth nobody in the family liked touching directly.
Grey Sinclair wasn’t Richard Hawthorne’s biological son.
But he’d still been brought into the family anyway.
And now into the company.
Dick looked toward his father. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“That’s unbelievably reckless.”
“No,” Richard replied calmly. “What’s reckless is assuming loyalty only comes through blood.”
The words hit harder than intended.
Dick felt it immediately.
So did Richard.
A sharp silence settled between father and son.
Grey watched both of them carefully.
Observing.
Always observing.
Dick stood abruptly, gathering the acquisition reports from the table with controlled movements.
“If the meeting is finished,” he said coldly, “I have actual work to do.”
“Sit down,” Richard ordered.
Dick ignored him completely.
As he moved toward the boardroom doors, he passed Grey for the first time.
Up close, he noticed two things immediately.
Grey smelled faintly like cedar and rain.
And he didn’t move aside.
Not fully.
Just enough to let d**k pass while holding his gaze one second longer than necessary.
Steady grey eyes. Unreadable expression.
No intimidation. No apology.
Dick felt something sharp twist unexpectedly beneath his ribs.
Annoyance, he told himself immediately.
Only annoyance.
Nothing else.
But later that night, long after the storm had ended and the city lights burned gold beneath his penthouse windows, d**k would realize something deeply inconvenient:
The exact moment Grey Sinclair walked into Hawthorne Industries…
everything started changing.
- Writer
