Page 35 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

THEO

M y life had become a high-stakes balancing act. Every step was a gamble, every breath a risk. I lived on the edge, clinging to the illusion of control while the world beneath me tilted with every lie I told, every mask I wore.

And I was running out of hands to juggle it all. There were two of me now. The one they saw: the golden boy, the heir, the obedient son who smiled when told, who dressed like power and moved like legacy. And the real me: the one who wanted Sin. The one who needed him.

Sin was the only thing that felt real in a world made of smoke and mirrors. His touch lit me up. His voice grounded me. He saw past all the polish, down to the cracked thing beneath, and didn’t flinch.

But the lies I fed him, dressed in good intentions and hollow promises, were starting to bleed. And I hated myself for every single one.

I was late again.

My phone buzzed with another calendar alert as I jogged across the lobby to the elevators, tie crooked, suit jacket rumpled. I’d spent the entire day smoothing over last-minute gala logistics, then my father called: “Meeting with the board. Be there in twenty.”

And when he summoned me, I came. No matter what it cost me, I jumped.

The boardroom felt like a cage. Sleek glass walls, clinical lighting, and a dozen wolves in suits pretending to be civilized. My father sat at the head of the table, like a king, a Rolexed wrist resting over neatly arranged briefing documents.

He didn’t look up as I slipped onto the chair next to him. “Glad you could finally join us.” His voice was smooth and razor-sharp.

I swallowed the vitriol that rose in my throat and forced a nod. “Apologies, father. The vendor meetings for the gala ran over.”

The corner of his mouth twitched and turned down. His disappointment was painted clearly on his face. It was predictable. Measurable. I learned long ago how to recognize that expression and the consequences that came with it.

“Then let’s hope you came prepared,” he replied, flipping to a report with exaggerated care. “We’re discussing the Whitmore acquisition. Something I assume you’ve been briefed on.”

I hadn’t. Hadn’t even looked at it. Not because I didn’t care—but because my life had fractured into pieces, and I was drowning beneath them all.

“We’re looking at their shipping division,” one of the board members offered. “They’ve got major bottlenecks. If we gut it, strip the current framework and restructure, it’s an easy 30% profit gain within two quarters.”

Everyone nodded. I tried to be invested. I really did. But the only thing echoing in my head was thoughts of Sin.

“Any thoughts, Theo?”

All eyes snapped to me. Expectant. Sharp. Predatory.

I cleared my throat. “They’re union-backed, aren’t they? That could create long-term complications if we cut too deep. Public perception’s already fragile after the last restructuring the company went through.”

A beat of silence. Then one of the board members scoffed under his breath. “Bleeding heart.”

There were a few polite chuckles. Followed by pointed looks. The disapproval that I looked at and valued anything else over bottom line profit was ridiculous. My father didn’t laugh. He stared at me like I was a smear on his clean glass table.

“Noted,” he said coolly. “Though I expect pragmatism over sentiment next time.”

My stomach twisted under the weight of their combined relentless gaze. The meeting dragged on. Minutes turned into hours. Numbers, projections, more bloodless plans to feed their greed. A sentiment I’d never shared.

I glanced at my watch. It was seven forty-six already. My gut turned to lead. Sin was supposed to be mine tonight. I’d planned a date. A real one. To show him what he meant to me. That this was real. I promised him. He’d given me another chance, and I knew I was going to ruin it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again. Another message. Then another. I didn’t need to look to know who they were from.

By the time the meeting ended, I barely remembered what had been discussed. I stood before anyone else, offering a stiff nod, and bolted for the stairwell, choosing concrete over the chrome, running instead of waiting for the elevator and another opportunity for my father to drag me back in.

My lungs burned as I hit the parking garage. My hands shook as I finally checked my phone.

Sin

Still waiting….

Sin

You said an hour. That was hours ago.

Sin

Don’t do this again, Theo.

Sin

I can’t keep doing this.

Sin

Fuck this! I’m out!

No . I wouldn’t accept this. I called him immediately, and it went straight to voicemail. I tried again. And again. Nothing. Just the impersonal voice of the factory setting voicemail.

The drive across town blurred—red lights, headlights, city noise fading into the static roar inside my head. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think clearly. I was losing him, and the only person to blame was me.

When I got to his building, I jumped out of my car, abandoning it haphazardly against the curb. Impatiently, I pressed the button for his apartment. The intercom buzzed relentlessly without answer.

I glanced up and down the street to see if anyone was coming this way so I could slip in behind them, but it was deserted.

Frustrated, my hands fisted my hair, yanking against the roots.

Then I remembered that sometimes the building super propped open the door at the rear of the building and thanked God for his stupidity.

I sprinted around to the back, finding the door ajar, and breathed a sigh of relief.

The lights in the stairwell were blown out. I climbed the steps two at a time. By the time I reached Sin’s floor, my lungs were heaving. The third floor hallway was dim, quiet. The scent of cooked food and smoke permeated the air.

I pounded on his door. “Sin!” My voice cracked. “Open up. Please, I’m sorry?—”

Nothing. So I tried again. And again. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. I rested my forehead against the wood, breathing hard, my fists curled so tight my knuckles bleached white.

The sound of a lock disengaging to my right drew my attention. I turned to find an elderly woman leaning on her doorframe, wrapped in a pink robe. Her expression was unimpressed.

“Can I help you?” she asked dryly.

“I—no. Sorry. Just…” I gestured at the door.

She studied me for a long moment, then shook her head. “There’s no one there, sweetheart.”

“He has to be.”

Her lips pressed together. “He left about an hour ago. Got my groceries for me, bless his heart.”

My breath caught. “That was…”

“He’s a good kid. Kind. Too good for this.” Her gaze sharpened. “Don’t fuck him over.”

I flinched like she’d hit me. “We’re not?—”

She cut me off, disapproval entrenched in her tone.

“I might be old, but I’m not blind—yet. He talks to me, you know.

” Tension locked my muscles up tight, and I took a step back, making her scoff.

“I know who you are, but that’s not the point,” she said flippantly.

“He likes you and if you can’t give him what he deserves, then walk away before you hurt him anymore. ”

She slammed shut the door in my face before I could respond. I stared at it, her words wrapping around me like barbed wire. Until my gaze dropped to the floor where my shoes scuffed the old carpet.

A sticky note was stuck to the mat. The handwriting was harsh, scrawled like he’d been shaking when he wrote it.

I’m not your secret, Theo. Not anymore. You want this? Want me? Prove it.

Or leave me alone.

His words gutted me. Something inside me shattered. I slid down the wall, cradling my head in my hands, and sat there long after the hallway had gone quiet.

Home felt like a modern mausoleum. Cold. Lifeless. The lights were set on warm, but it did nothing to ease the chill that had settled into my bones. Winston blinked at me from the stairs, tail flicking once in disdain before disappearing. Even my cat had stopped waiting for me to show up.

I sank onto the edge of the couch in the formal living room, still in my dress shoes, elbows on my knees, staring at nothing. I pulled out my phone again like an addict unable to quit and hit the call button on his contact. One more call. Just one more try, but it went straight to voicemail.

Emotion pricked the back of my eyes as a wave of exhaustion crashed over me. My body ached, every muscle strung too tight. My chest felt like a hollow shell. I scrolled through my contacts. Dozens of names: lawyers, family associates, assistants, clients.

Not one of them was a friend I could just call and talk to about this. Everyone in there served a purpose. They were dispensable. There was no one in my corner. The closest thing I had to a friend was Winston but even he’d had enough of me.

My only exception was Sin. That first night we’d met flashed through my mind. The way my body came alive in his presence. How he had this magnetic draw; he was the kind of person who’d never met a stranger.

The silence rang louder than a scream. My head throbbed, my chest felt too tight, and something deep in me that Sin had slowly pieced back together started to fray. The life I’d been bred for, been groomed for, was a gilded cage. People thought money made you happy, but I was proof that was a lie.

The one thing I craved was slipping through my fingers like ash.

I buried my face in my hands as the first tears fell.

I couldn’t keep being what my father wanted me to be.

Not when it cost me everything. I just wanted to fall into his arms and be free.

But I wasn’t sure I’d survive what I’d have to do to get there.

Thalia told me where he’d gone after I’d spent hours at the lookout waiting like a fool, hoping he’d show. After a hundred calls that had gone to voicemail, I should’ve taken the hint. I’d sat through the dying light, through dusk, through the cold bite of night air, but he never came.

I found him at the old community basketball court near the edge of the city. The one where the streetlights buzzed like static in your skull, and the air always smelled like wet asphalt and regret.

He was alone. A half-empty bottle of vodka sat by his boot, the red ember of his cigarette pulsing like a warning flare. His elbows were braced on his knees, shoulders bowed under the weight he never should’ve carried alone. His jaw was tight. Set like concrete.

“Sin,” I breathed, like his name alone could tether us back together.

He glanced up at the sound of my voice. His eyes didn’t soften when they landed on me. They sharpened.

“You don’t get to say my name like that,” he said, his voice cold enough to make me flinch.

“I’m sorry?—”

“No,” he snapped, rising to his feet in a fluid, furious motion. “You don’t get to be sorry. Not anymore. You don’t get to keep showing up after letting me down again, bleeding out these half-assed apologies like they’re worth something.”

I stepped closer despite the fire in his voice. “Sin, please. Just let me explain?—”

“Explain?” he laughed bitterly. “Explain what? That I’m just your dirty little secret? That I only exist in the cracks between the life you parade around in front of the cameras?”

“You’re not,” I choked out, but it sounded like a lie.

“Then what am I, Theo?” His voice broke on my name—cracked down the middle. “Tell me. What am I when your father calls? When she’s on your arm at those parties in your perfect fucking suits, with your perfect fucking life? What am I?”

“You know it’s not like that?—”

“Do I?” he stepped in, his body shaking with rage. “Because it sure as hell feels like that. I’m tired of being treated like this, Theo. I’m tired of being the ache you keep hidden. I want to be real. I want to be important to you. ”

I swallowed, heart hammering. “You are. You’ve always been?—”

“Then say it!” he shouted, eviscerating the remaining distance between us, his finger pressing into my chest like a steel barb. “Say what we are. Say what this is. Say it out loud so I know I’m not fucking insane.”

I opened my mouth. The words were right there . “ My father arranged my engagement. He’s holding everything over my head. I don’t want her. I’ve never wanted her. I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you… I love you.”

But my lips wouldn’t move. Because if I said it, I couldn’t take it back. Once it was out, there’d be no safety left. If my father found out what Sin really meant to me, he’d use him against me. He’d break him and I refused to let that happen.

So I stood there. Silent. Watched as the light died in his eyes. Sin blinked slowly, like he could still find hope, that maybe I’d speak, that maybe I’d still choose him. But I didn’t.

“Right,” he whispered, so softly it made my chest cave in. “That’s all I needed to know.”

“Sin—” My voice shattered on his name.

“No.” He backed away, hands trembling. “Don’t. Just… don’t fucking follow me with your silence. I’ve bled myself dry for the chance to be yours. I waited. I kept waiting, like an idiot, thinking you’d finally fight for me.”

“I wanted to. I want to—” I reached for him.

But he stepped back, just out of reach. Just enough to let the cold fill the space between us.

“You always want to,” he said, eyes glassy. “But you never do.”

A gust of wind caught the edge of his jacket. The streetlights flickered, casting shadows over his face.

“I can’t be your halfway thing anymore.” His voice barely held together. “Not when it’s breaking me. I need to be chosen, Theo. I won’t beg for your attention. If you can’t see my worth, you have no place in my life.”

I stood there, paralyzed, every word inside me dead on my tongue.

“Goodbye, Theo.” His voice cracked like dry glass. “I hope whatever you’re protecting… is worth it.”

Then he turned and walked into the dark. The embers of the cigarette he crushed under his boot extinguished like dying stars.

And I didn’t stop him. I stood there, frozen, under buzzing lights and fading echoes, surrounded by everything I was destined to inherit, everything I’d been raised to protect… and nothing that fucking mattered.