Chapter 2
404words
The nurse gripped my arm, urging me to leave quickly and avoid doing anything rash.
With that warning, she gathered her things and hurried away.
I smiled down at the android beneath my heel. Oh, I wouldn't do anything stupid—I'd do something brilliant.
Outside the hospital, I called the one person with deeper Sinclair connections than Victor himself.
"Who is this?"
"Hello, Mr. Sinclair. Care to make a deal?"
An hour later, I ended the call with a satisfied smile.
The following day, I watched from my car as crowds gathered at the harbor bridge where "Victor Sinclair" threatened to jump.
My phone pinged with a message.
"It's done."
Seconds later, I heard the roar of multiple luxury vehicles approaching.
The Sinclairs had arrived, their security team muscling through the crowd.
"Son, what are you doing? You're terrifying us!"
"Grandson, whatever's wrong, the Sinclair name can fix it!"
I smiled coldly and executed the prepared program on my laptop.
Instantly, the "Victor" on the bridge let out an anguished cry.
"I'm sorry! I've been living a lie! I'm not your biological son!
The DNA tests were forged—everything was a lie!"
News cameras captured every moment of the unfolding spectacle.
As the drama peaked, I locked eyes with Nathaniel Sinclair in his approaching vehicle.
"Time to go. Now."
As he pulled away, he asked quietly:
"Are you certain there are no loose ends? I need more time to secure my position."
I considered briefly, then yawned with deliberate casualness.
"Relax. I installed self-destruct mechanisms in the android.
When it hits the water, it'll disintegrate completely. The tide will handle the rest."
By morning, the incident dominated every headline.
"SINCLAIR HEIR REVEALED AS FRAUD, COMMITS SUICIDE IN HARBOR"
The scandal ripped through high society, growing more outrageous with each retelling until the once-untouchable Sinclairs became cocktail party punchlines.
Despite numerous suspicious elements and the conspicuous absence of a body, the Sinclairs hastily arranged a funeral.
As his "fiancée," I was obligated to attend.
At the service, the Sinclairs' eyes widened in shock as I approached in widow's black, collapsing in theatrical grief before Victor's portrait.
"Excuse me, miss, but who exactly are you?"
"Hello, I'm Iris Blackwood, Vic's fiancée. This happened so suddenly—I only just heard—I..."
I broke down mid-sentence, my knees buckling convincingly.
A servant caught me before I hit the floor.
