Page 96 of Modern Romance December 2025 5-8

The moment had come to break the cycle of denial, face his weakness and conquer it.

Some might say not before time, he thought, his nostrils flaring as he huffed out a snort of impatient self-contempt.

For nine years he had told himself that the Sinclair family were history, consigned to some dusty corner of his mind.

He had moved on.

It was a self-delusion that had been exposed the moment the George Sinclair scandal had spawned a wealth of banner headlines: Wealthy Financier Caught with Hand in the Till.

It would have been reasonable, given their shared history, to indulge in a few moments of what-goes-around-comes-around satisfaction, raise a glass to karma then get on with his life.

Instead, he had become totally…obsessedwith the story. Even admitting to this weakness in the privacy of his own head, justthinkingthe word made him clench his teeth, but what else could you call his encyclopaedic knowledge of every tabloid headline, every online podcast covering Sinclair’s trial and eventual incarceration? He’d also hoarded every scrap of information, including every photo, old or new, of Sinclair’s daughter, whoseloyaltyandquiet dignityhad apparently won her a fan base.

There were a lot of photos and he had looked at every single one of them.

Leo had read it all and filed away the opinions of both the crazy people and the serious commentators. Those who loved Amy Sinclair for being a dutiful, loving daughter were countered by an equal number of conspiracy theorists who had concluded she was the criminal mastermind behind the crime and she’d got off scot-free, while the real crazies framed a possibility that she came from Mars.

He had read it all, watched it all—and all because nine years ago Amy Sinclair had rejected him.

Something he had recovered from completely.

Having the lie revealed for what it was meant he was not well-disposed towards the author of his humiliation or, more especially, himself.

It wasn’t as if he was the only person in the world to be rejected by his first love, and it wasn’t as if rejection had been a new experience for him. Sure, his mother hadn’t exactlyrejectedhim, but she had died, which as a child had felt pretty much like the same thing.

Then came the foster homes, where a couple of unpleasant experiences had left their mark, but most carers had been well-intentioned, or even kind, but by that point in his life Leo had been wary ofkind. Even the better people he’d come across had found the aloof kid he’d been too self-contained. A child who didn’t smile or cry was hard to warm to.

School hadn’t supplied the sort of stimulation his quick mind had craved. His last report had basically read:a bit of a loner, but good with animals. When he’d met Amy Sinclair, he’d been working at stables that ran a sanctuary sideline for old and abused horses. She had been one of the rich kid volunteers, the sort he’d normally steered clear of.

Amy was the first person in his life who had believed in him. Except, of course, she hadn’t. She’d simply strung him along as they had created a future together in their heads, but when push came to shove, the novelty value of slumming it had inevitably worn off. And when faced with the prospect of actually leaving her spoilt, fairy tale princess lifestyle for a life with ano-hope loseras her father had so charmingly phrased it, she had revealed her true self.

Leo didn’t look back on the immediate post-Amy era of his life with any pride, those weeks and months when he had wallowed in self-pity, often found in the bottom of a glass. But he had eventually come out the other side and moved on, telling himself, and really believing it, that he had shrugged off the past and learnt from it. He had viewed, and still did, the gullibility of his old self with a mixture of embarrassment, scorn and disbelief.

And there were even positives to the experience, which he had acknowledged; he had definitely learnt some very important lessons.

He’d never thought of a woman ashisagain, and never would. The termsoulmatehad been expunged from his vocabulary. Somewhere between the bottom of a beer glass and deciding to fight back, Leo had discovered that being a lone wolf and thinking outside the box did not make you a loser.

Actually, those traits could be positive ones when it came to making money, as his early success in crypto had shown. The self-belief that success had given him had helped him deal in a pragmatic way with the next bolt from the blue when it came.

He had family in the form of an Italian billionaire grandfather, who appeared to think that Leo would view this news like a lottery winner and run after the dangling carrot he’d extended. Whereas, actually, Leo’s first inclination had been to tell this stranger, who had turfed out his only daughter because she had fallen in love with a man he didn’t approve of, to take a hike. Leo had no interest in being the chosen one, and he was more than capable of making his own success; he didn’t need to inherit it.

‘You think I care about the Romano name, or how old andnoblethis family is, or how much money you have?Youcame looking formebecause there isn’t anyone else, but maybe you should have thought of that before you threw my mother out. I’m not about to kiss your ring or anywhere else, old man, because you need me more than I need you!’

A faint, ironic smile tugged at Leo’s lips at the memory of that first encounter, which had been, to put it politely,stormy.Over the years, there had been several storms while he worked alongside his grandfather, and even now that the old man was no longer taking an active part in the day-to-day working of the Romano estate, there were still occasions when they butted heads.

Men who threw their daughters to the wolves did not fill Leo with admiration, but over the years an understanding of sorts had developed between the two men.

His heavy-lidded glance strayed one last time to the screen.

He wasn’t filled with admiration for weak, compliant daughters who supported their guilty fathers, either.

His half-smile had vanished, and his eyes were cold as he closed the laptop with a decisive snap. He had allowed ghosts from the past to take up space in his head. Now, he needed to free up that space and reclaim his life, which, as lives went, was a pretty good one.

Nine years ago, he had not been in a position to take revenge on the family responsible for humiliating him.

Flexing his broad shoulders, he reached for the leather jacket he had discarded earlier. He was the one calling the shots now.

As he slid into the driving seat of his car, he glanced at the time on the slim platinum-banded watch on his wrist. It was a thirty-minute drive to where the fast-food truck where Amy produced culinary miracles, according to the reviews he’d read, was parked up.