Sinclair's Lost Heir[The Rise Of The Betrayed Son-in-law]

CHAPTER 3

Ethan’s POV

The clang of the iron bars echoed in my ears, a sharp reminder of my new reality. My cell was cramped, the air thick with the stale scent of confinement. Just hours ago, I had stood before the judge as my world unravelled.

My marriage to Vanessa had been legally erased, a mere signature dissolving five years of my life. But that wasn’t the worst part. The gavel had struck like a death knell, sentencing me to seven years for economic crimes and negligence at Hale Pharmaceuticals.

Seven years.

I slumped onto the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling. The weight of it settled over me, a future painted in monotonous shades of regret and isolation. My name, once respected, was now synonymous with scandal. My so-called friends had vanished, and my family—what little I had—had turned their backs. The Hales had made sure of that.

A lifetime ago, I had fought to belong, to prove my worth. And for what? To be discarded like a broken pawn the moment I was no longer useful.

A sharp rattle against the bars interrupted my downward spiral. I turned to see the warden, his face impassive.

“Pack up, Carter. You’re good to go.”

For a moment, I thought I had misheard. “What?”

“You’re free. Someone pulled strings. Higher-ups settled your bail.”

I stayed seated, my mind scrambling for an explanation. “That’s impossible. Who—”

The warden shrugged. “Not my concern. Just grab your things and get moving.”

I hesitated, but the sight of the open cell door spurred me into action. I barely had anything—just the clothes on my back and a few personal items. With a mixture of confusion and unease, I followed the warden through the dim corridors, my pulse hammering with each step.

This wasn’t mercy. Someone wanted me out, and that thought unsettled me more than the prison walls.

After signing out my belongings, I stepped past the heavy iron doors into the open air. The sky was a dull gray, the chill biting through my threadbare clothes. But the sight in front of me made me forget the cold entirely.

A fleet of luxury vehicles lined the curb, all black, gleaming under the overcast sky. I recognized the makes instantly—Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, and a sleek black Maybach at the center, its chrome grille reflecting the dim light like a predator’s teeth. The vehicles were flanked by men in black suits, their postures stiff, their gazes unreadable behind tinted sunglasses.

One of them stepped forward, his expression stoic. “Boss. We’ve been waiting.”

I frowned. “Who the hell are you?”

“Please, sir. If you would join us in the car.” His voice was polite, but there was an undertone of authority.

“No. Not until you tell me who sent you.”

Before he could answer, the back door of the Maybach swung open. From the depths of the vehicle, a woman emerged, her presence instantly commanding.

She was breath taking.

Silky, chestnut-brown hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, framing a face that seemed too perfect to belong to reality. High cheekbones, full lips painted a deep crimson, and eyes—a mesmerizing shade of emerald—that held a quiet, assured power. She moved with effortless grace, every step purposeful yet unhurried.

She wore a fitted ivory dress, its delicate fabric hugging her curves without being ostentatious. Over it, a tailored cashmere coat in a soft champagne hue draped elegantly over her shoulders, the subtle shimmer of diamond accents on her cuffs catching the light.

Her heels clicked softly against the pavement, their designer make undeniable. Even her fragrance something intoxicatingly rich yet delicate spoke of understated wealth.

For a brief, embarrassing moment, I forgot where I was. Forgot that I had just been released from prison, that my life had been in ruins mere hours ago. She was the kind of woman men dreamt about, the kind who belonged to another world altogether but loving anyone wasn’t a dream I had the luxury to dream.

“Ethan Carter.” Her voice was smooth, like velvet laced with steel. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

Her words snapped me back to reality. I straightened, masking my disorientation. “And you are?”

She smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. “Olivia Roberts.”

I stiffened. Olivia Roberts. A name synonymous with influence, power, and the Sinclair Empire. The woman who controlled more wealth than most nations. I had heard her name whispered in business circles, but never once had I imagined crossing paths with her.

“You’re surprised,” she observed, tilting her head slightly. “I suppose I would be, too.”

“Surprised doesn’t even cover it,” I admitted. “Why are you here?”

Her emerald eyes studied me, unreadable. “I have been looking everywhere for you Ethan. Your grandfather is waiting to meet you.”

I swallowed hard. I was more confounded than I previously was. “Grandfather? I... I think there’s been a mix-up somewhere. I...”

“Why don’t you get in the car and let’s get into the details together on our way to meet your grandfather.”

I was already too curious to refuse her offer, besides, I had nothing to lose. I got in with her and we got on our way.

“Your grandfather entrusted me with a secret task some years back. I was to find you and bring you home.”

“How do you know I’m the person you’ve been searching for? I mean, what if it is a mist...”

“No Ethan, this isn’t a mistake. Some years back, you were an anonymous blood donor to a dying old man when the facility was low on his blood type. Apparently, your grandfather was that old man.

He had been searching for you long before then. Not knowing who you are, he went to the extent of getting the cctv footages just to get a face, and I’ve been searching for you since then. Thankfully, your scandal, which I’m sorry for by the way, made my search easy.”

“Oh! I see. Who is this my grandfather?

She inhaled, as if choosing her words carefully. "William Sinclair is your grandfather."

The world tilted. I blinked, convinced I had misheard her. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me correctly." Her voice remained steady, yet I could hear the subtle shift in her tone—gentle, almost hesitant. "William Sinclair, the man the world bows to in the oil industry, is your blood."

A cold shiver ran down my spine. The name itself was enough to command power. William Sinclair wasn't just rich; he was a titan, the kind of man who dictated the course of economies, whose influence stretched beyond borders.

The Sinclair Empire was a legacy that business moguls dreamed of aligning with, a force that could build or break fortunes at will.

And now, this lady was telling me that I was a part of it. His blood.

My throat tightened. "That’s impossible. My parents... they weren’t—"

"Your parents were his son and daughter-in-law," she cut in gently. "You went missing as a baby after a car crash. It was assumed that you died with them. But fate had other plans."

I let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the seat. My past had always been murky—a childhood filled with gaps, lost memories, and unanswered questions. And now, in one swift stroke, Olivia had shattered everything I thought I knew about myself.

As if on cue, the car slowed. I turned to the window, my breath catching at the sight before me.

The Sinclair Estate was nothing short of mesmerizing.

We passed through massive wrought-iron gates that swung open at our arrival, revealing an expanse of manicured gardens stretching into the horizon. Fountains shot crystal-clear water into the air, the cascading streams shimmering under the soft glow of golden evening lights.

The road leading to the main residence was lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and grand marble statues depicting figures from mythology, each one exuding an air of regality.

And then, there was the palace itself.

Calling it a mansion would have been an understatement. The Sinclair Palace was a testament to architectural brilliance—a sprawling masterpiece of ivory-white walls, gilded balconies, and towering columns that spoke of old money and prestige.

The entrance was adorned with massive double doors carved from mahogany, accented with gold leaf detailing, flanked by two colossal lion statues, their marble gazes fierce and unwavering.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit me. Was this really my bloodline? My inheritance?

Before I could fully grasp it, the car rolled to a stop. Olivia stepped out first, turning back to me with an expectant look. "Come. He’s waiting for you."

I swallowed hard and followed her lead, my steps heavy as we ascended the marble staircase. The doors swung open, revealing a grand reception hall bathed in warm chandeliers and lined with luxurious Persian carpets.

Gold-trimmed walls framed grand oil paintings, each one likely worth more than everything I had ever owned combined.

And then, before I could take another step, a figure emerged from the hall.

William Sinclair.

He wasn’t just any old man. He was power personified. His presence commanded the room, even before he spoke. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, his silver hair was neatly combed back, and despite his age, his sharp blue eyes held a vitality that hinted at the empire he had built.

For a moment, he simply stared at me, his gaze running over my features with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Then, before I could react, he stepped forward, closing the distance between us in a few brisk strides.

"Ethan." His voice, deep and firm, carried the weight of years of longing. "My grandson."

The words hit like a sledgehammer.

He didn’t hesitate. Before I could find my voice, he placed his hands firmly on my shoulders, his grip strong despite his age. "I’ve waited a long time for this moment," he said, his voice thick with something unspoken. "For years, I thought you were gone. But now, you're here. Finally."

I opened my mouth, but no words came. My mind was still scrambling, trying to process the impossible truth standing before me.

William Sinclair. My grandfather.

He studied me closely, his gaze softening. "You look just like your father. You have his eyes, his build. There’s no doubt—you are my blood."

I could feel Olivia watching me, waiting for my reaction. But I had none. My emotions were tangled, a storm of disbelief, confusion, and something else... something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Belonging.

William exhaled, stepping back slightly. "You must be exhausted. Go inside, take a shower, rest. We have much to discuss, but for now, you need time to take this all in."

I nodded numbly, my feet moving before my mind could catch up. Servants appeared from the sides, guiding me down the grand hallway toward what I assumed would be my quarters.

As I walked, my fingers curled into fists. The Hales had cast me aside, humiliated me, left me to rot in prison.

But now? Now, I was a Sinclair.

And they were going to regret ever crossing me.