Heartprints in the Void
⊰ 11.5 | 2 ⊱ Lines in the Sand: Part 2

**Cade**

I approach my father's office, not bothering to knock. I push the door open, stepping into the spacious office that's been the backdrop for so many of our conversations over the years. The room is bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany furniture and the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city below.

And there he is, David Sinclair himself, looking up from his desk with a mixture of surprise and annoyance on his face. His salt-and-pepper hair is immaculately styled as always, his crisp white shirt a stark contrast to the dark wood of his chair. "Cade? What are you doing here at this hour?"

I meet his gaze, unflinching. "We need to talk, Dad. About a lot of things." I eye him for a moment, letting the words sink in before adding, "Let's start with the hypnosis."

The color drains from his face, but he quickly composes himself, his features settling into a mask of confusion like the perfect actor he is. "Hypnosis? What are you talking about, son? Are you feeling alright?"

I scoff, taking a step closer to his desk. "Cut the bullshit. I found the file, the one with all the psychiatrist's notes. I know what you did to me, what you *took* from me."

For a moment, just a fleeting second, I see panic flash in his eyes. But then it's gone, replaced by a calculated coolness that I've seen him use in countless business negotiations.

"Cade, you're not making any sense. Maybe you should go home, get some rest. We can talk about whatever's bothering you in the morning."

"Enough!" I slam my hands down on his desk, the sound echoing in the cavernous office. "Stop lying to me. Stop trying to manipulate me. I remember everything now, Dad. Everything you tried to make me forget about Elysian."

He stands up slowly, his face hardening. "You don't understand, Cade. Elysian isn't what you think she is. She's using you, manipulating you—"

"No," I cut him off, my voice low and dangerous. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to try and turn this around on her. Elysian is my wife now."

His eyes widen in shock, clearly caught off guard. "Your what?"

"That's right," I say, a grim satisfaction settling over me at his surprise. "We got married. Elysian is my wife, and now my daughter's mother."

He sinks back into his chair, the weight of my words visibly hitting him. I press on, not giving him a chance to recover.

"And if you *ever* come near my family, or try to intervene in our lives again, I swear to God I'll make sure the Feds get everything they need to lock you up and throw away the key."

This time, his eyes narrow, anger and fear flashing across his face. "What are you talking about?"

I lean in, planting the palms of my hands on the top of his desk, my voice barely above a whisper. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Tax evasion, conspiracy... ring any bells? How long did you think you could keep that hidden, Dad?" I see it now, the anger nearly spilling over, his face turning an alarming shade of red. But I'm not done yet. Not by a long shot.

"And let's not forget about Maisie. My sister. Your daughter."

If I thought he looked shocked before, it's nothing compared to the look on his face now. His mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

He's not used to being on the defensive end of confrontation. He's not used to people laying out his dirty laundry in front of him for him to sniff.

"I know about her too," I admit. "And I'm going to make damn sure she's taken care of, that she gets to meet her family. The family *you* denied her all these years."

*You're done.*

I eye him for a moment longer, watching him sink deeper and deeper into the hole he dug for himself. Finally, I step back, running a hand through my hair as I try to contain the rage that's threatening to boil over. *Coward. Liar. Cheater.*

"Mom deserved better than you," I pause, letting my words sink in. "If she were here right now, she'd be disgusted with what you've become. Hell, with what you've always been."

I watch as tears gather at the brim of his eyes, hurt and anger swirling in their depths. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for him.

*Almost.*

"Get out," he says, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. He shoots up to his feet, slamming his hand against his desk, loud and harsh. "Get the hell out of my office, you ungrateful piece of shit!"

I can't help it. I laugh. It's a harsh and bitter sound that fills the room. "Ungrateful? That's rich, coming from you. You know what, Dad? Enjoy this office while you can. Because come that board meeting, you're done. I'm done protecting you, done covering for your mistakes. It's over."

I turn to leave, but pause at the door, looking back over my shoulder. "Oh, and don't bother trying to contact me or my family. As far as I'm concerned, you're dead to us."

With that, I walk out, slamming the door behind me. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, a fitting punctuation to the end of our relationship.

*Never again.*

I used to imagine a life where I'd finally made my father proud. A life where I lived up to the Sinclair name. Now... if this is what it means to be a Sinclair, I want no part in it.

*I won't do this to my family.*

As I make my way back to the elevator, I feel the weight lift off my shoulders. For the first time in my life, I've stood up to *David Sinclair*, not as a son seeking approval, but as a man defending his family.

The ride down to the lobby is a blur. My mind is racing, replaying the confrontation, wondering if I've done the right thing. But as I step out into the cool night air, I know in my gut that I have.

I slide into my car, but I don't start the engine right away. Instead, I sit there, letting the events of the night wash over me. The revelation about Maisie, the confrontation with my father, the threats and accusations... it's all so much to process. For a moment, I let myself feel the pain, the betrayal, the anger. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, fighting back the urge to scream or cry or both. It's like this deep rooted, primal thing that makes me want to take the gun strapped to the bottom of my seat and go back in there and finish it once and for all.

But I think about Elysian waiting for me at home, of Naomi sleeping peacefully in her crib. I think of the family we're building, the love within the walls of our home. And I know that I can't throw that away. Not on him. *He's not worth it.*

So I drive. Back home, I drive to the one place that I replace peace.