Page 62 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

Chapter Forty-Two

Chloe

A month and a half.

That’s how long it took for Grady to convince my publisher I was too much of a liability, and for them to kill the contract for the new trilogy.

In the same period, lawsuits were filed against Blake’s father, who’d been siphoning money from Sadie’s severance on top of sabotaging the resort construction.

With the investigation underway, Blake gained control of the accounts and found a way to cover Sadie’s expenses with as little disruption as possible.

We had also spent that time lining up the evidence we’ll need to free me from my familial pack’s latest scheme .

Now, my heels strike the marble floor of Sinclair & Associates, each click echoing through the cavernous lobby. Nathaniel walks on my right, Dominic on my left, their solid presence giving me the courage to keep my spine straight and my chin lifted.

We bypass the ground floor receptionist to meet our lawyer by the elevators. Milo Reese wears his salt-and-pepper hair combed back and carries a slim briefcase in his hand with the air of a man who doesn’t waste time.

He assesses me from head to toe before his mouth curves in approval. “Ms. Richardson. You appear composed.”

“I feel like I might vomit on these five-thousand-dollar shoes.”

His smile widens a fraction. “Save it for after we win.”

The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime. We step inside, and Milo swipes a keycard over the panel before selecting the button for the top floor. The highest level of Sinclair & Associates, where only the most important meetings take place.

We’re not the only ones putting on appearances for this meeting. Gregory Sinclair moved us up several floors to remind me of who we’re dealing with .

The man I grew up thinking of as my uncle.

My real father.

The knowledge still cuts deep.

As my trepidation rises, Nathaniel shifts closer, his pheromones wrapping around me. “Remember the plan. We’re not leaving without getting what we came for.”

“Expect provocations, especially from Sullivan,” Milo adds as the elevator glides upward. “He’ll be there to throw you off balance. Try not to react.”

I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, while the bonds with my Alphas feed me strength. “Simon doesn’t scare me anymore.”

“I can’t believe they’re hiding him from the police.” Dominic’s fingers curl into fists at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tight. “The man should be in jail for everything he’s done. And Gregory should be right there with him for hiring the monster in the first place.”

“Soon.” Milo straightens his tie in the reflective surface of the wall. “They’re keeping him around as a scapegoat, but his usefulness is wearing thin.”

The elevator slows to a stop, and my stomach lurches as the doors glide open, revealing a reception area decorated in muted grays and blues. A bland corporate paradise of wealth and power.

“This way.” Milo steps out first, leading us down a hallway lined with framed photographs of Gregory shaking hands with politicians, judges, and CEOs in a visual reminder of his influence.

Two sets of double doors wait at the end. Milo pauses, hand on the polished brass handle. “Ready?”

I square my shoulders. “Open it.”

The conference room stretches before us, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city.

Gregory sits at the far end of a massive mahogany table, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

At fifty, his face shows few lines, his hair more salt than pepper, but still thick.

Power radiates from him, and I’m suddenly glad Dominic insisted on a second shopping trip to up our presentation.

To his right sits Harrison Wells, the Sinclair family attorney, with a permanent frown on his lined face.

And farther down the table sits Simon Sullivan.

His dirty-blond hair hangs over his eyes in a tousled way he probably thinks gives him a charming appearance.

I’ve written that it does often enough in my book.

But it does no more for him than the patchy goatee that can’t hide his weak chin or the cologne he wears to pretend at being an Alpha .

As we enter, his attention snaps to me, tracking every step I take.

“Chloe.” Gregory stands, his smile thin. “You’re keeping yourself…healthy.”

A flash of rage burns through me at his implied judgment. Yes, I’ve gained weight, and my dress hugs the fuller curves brought on by regular meals and pack bonds. I won’t be shamed for not starving myself.

“Gregory.” I refuse to call him father.

Harrison rises, smoothing his tie. “Please, have a seat. Can I offer anyone coffee? Water?”

“No,” Nathaniel answers for all of us. His hand brushes the small of my back as we take our seats opposite the Sinclair contingent.

Gregory waits until we’re settled before speaking again. “I appreciate your coming in person. These matters are best handled face to face, within the family.”

“We’re here to listen to your proposal,” Milo interjects. “Nothing more.”

“Of course.” Gregory slides a folder across the polished surface. “I’ve outlined the next steps for Chloe’s return to the Sinclair pack. The transition should be seamless if we move quickly.”

I don’t touch the folder. Dominic reaches for it instead, flipping it open to scan the contents .

“We’ll need to address the reputation management first,” Gregory says, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “A public statement explaining your temporary separation from the pack. We’ve drafted something appropriate.”

Simon shifts in his seat, his lips curving into a smirk. “We can say you were in rehab. People will understand.”

The calm mask I’ve worn since entering almost cracks. Under my skin, anger bubbles hot and dangerous. Of all the lies they could have come up with…

Gregory ignores him, focusing on me. “The estate reassignment will take time, but we’ve already begun the process. The Fairchild property can be transferred into your name once the paperwork is finalized.”

“And the formal rejection of the Santaros courtship proposal?” Milo prompts, his pen poised over his notepad.

“A delicate matter, but manageable.” Gregory gives a dismissive wave. “We’ll cite incompatibility due to conflicting family obligations. Your acceptance of the arranged match will smooth over any ruffled feathers.”

My fingers curl into my palms, nails digging into skin. I’d worn a scarf to hide my mating Marks, willing to let Gregory talk himself into a corner.

Simon leans forward, elbows on the table, and grins like he knows a secret. “It’s me, of course. We’re announcing our engagement next month.”

The room drops ten degrees. Beside me, Dominic stiffens, his scent going sharp and defensive. Nathaniel stays motionless, but his knuckles turn white around the pen he grips.

Gregory shifts with a subtle flick of his fingers, dismissing Simon before turning back to me.

“The Sullivan alliance has been useful, but Simon’s involvement ends here.

Your match is with Jonathan Sinclair, as discussed.

Your indiscretions with both the Santaros and the Misty Pines packs were unfortunate, but not irreparable. ”

“Temporary deviations,” Gregory corrects. “But not permanent.”

Simon doesn’t back down. “Everyone experiments in their twenties.”

Gregory doesn’t acknowledge him. “Before any formal announcement, we’ll need to terminate your existing courtship and verify there are no complications. If pregnancy is confirmed, we’ll take appropriate action. There can be no question that the heir is ours. ”

“Appropriate action,” I echo, emotion stripped from the words.

Nathaniel’s arm presses hard against mine now, his restraint wearing thin.

The pen in his hand creaks under the pressure of his grip, plastic threatening to snap.

Dominic doesn’t move, but his scent turns acidic.

Rage coils through our bond, barely held in check.

Gregory is talking about terminating their potential pup as if it’s a legal formality and not a life.

Gregory slides another document forward. “This outlines the expectations going forward. I suggest you read it and take notes.”

I flip it open and stare at the stack of papers, each page filled with Gregory’s plans for my life. A neatly organized future, where I serve as a pawn in his corporate empire and a vessel for the next generation. A bridge to his malleable future heir.

Harrison clears his throat. “We’ll need your signature today on the preliminary agreement. The rest can wait until after the public announcement.”

Gregory leans back, satisfaction settling across his features. “It’s time to come home, Chloe. This rebellious chapter ends now.”

Rebellious chapter. As if I had a say when I was kicked out of the Sinclair pack in the first place. Like I’ve been a child throwing a tantrum all this time instead of struggling to survive without a pack.

I lift my chin. Gregory appears so certain, so convinced of his victory.

He has no idea what’s coming.

“I’m not here to agree.” My shoulders square, steadied by the weight of my Alphas’ belief. “I’m here to end this.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his scent shifts, a note of uncertainty cutting through the confidence. “End what, precisely?”

“Whatever control you think you have over my life.”

Simon snorts, leaning back in his chair. “This should be entertaining.”

The calmness with which Dominic opens our legal folder belies the simmer of anger flowing through our bond while Milo slides a stack of prepared documents across the table. The heavy cream paper bears the watermark of his prestigious firm.

“What is this?” Harrison reaches for the documents, scanning the first page, and his expression tightens.

“My counter-offer.” I lean forward, placing my palms flat on the cool surface of the table. “In exchange for full disassociation from the Sinclair name, estate, and any arranged matches, I want a buyout of my inheritance.”

Gregory stares at me, his face unreadable. “Disassociation?”