Sinclair

Chapter Fifty-Five: A Monster Who Believes He's a Hero

I STARE UP at him in horrified surprise. Never in a million years did I even think Sinclair's father would be the one behind Lucky; that he would be the one who was so hell-bent on destroying Sinclair and what he had built. Now that I knew the truth, my mind was careening and I was wondering all kinds of things, but the one thing that came up constantly was simply this: Why?

From what Sinclair had told me, he never even knew who his father was and therefore, I find it hard to believe he could have done anything to warrant this man's hatred. When, through stiff lips, I say just that to Sinclair's father, he chuckles and he even sounds like Sinclair. More goosebumps rise on my arms.

"I don't hate him," he answers, looking amused that I even thought such a thing. "He's my son. I care about him, of course. I had originally planned to bring him into the family business when he turned sixteen. But then, everything with Timothée happened and he moved to America of all places. I lost track of him for almost six years after that, you see. When I finally did find him again, he had made a business of his own." He chuckles again. "I was impressed."

"Then...why do you want to kill him?"

"Have I ever done anything to indicate I want him dead?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The truth is, I want Sinclair to live. I want to merge our businesses. I mean, to begin with, what's currently his would have been mine if he'd stayed in Paris. I'm just collecting what I'm owed."

Even though I'm scared, when my mind recalls the stories from Sinclair's childhood—the way he starved almost daily, and stole food just to survive, having to walk in on his mother and her clients and enduring abuse from her daily—my anger flares up and I snap at him, "Sinclair doesn't owe you anything. You were going to "bring him into the business at sixteen." Do you have any idea what he was going through at that time? The things he had to endure..." My anger makes it so I can't think straight and I trail off.

Sinclair's father just smiles at me. "I know exactly what he went through," he says calmly, "but here's a little method...Freyja, is it? Why do you think a god doesn't respond to prayers unless something has been sacrificed to him? Because, if a god just gives without anything in return, who will appreciate that god? Won't people come to expect for that god to just do things without giving anything in return? But, let's say that same god lets one experience great calamity in their life—their crops won't grow, their only child dies, their spouse grows sick. So, when that god appears before them, hand outstretched, of course they'll take it. They'll make all the offerings they need. And when one miracle is performed, that one miracle is made to feel like a dozen after so much hardship. Do you understand what I mean?"

I swallow, trying to stomach the revulsion I feel rising in the pit of my stomach. "Are you saying you're some kind of god?"

He laughs again, the clear revulsion in my tone does nothing to deter him. "Not at all, Freyja. I'm only giving you an example of the way things work. When people are giving everything they want right off the bat, they have no appreciation for it. The harder a man's adversity, the greater his appreciation when something good happens to him."

Something clicks for me, then, and I ask, "Is that why you took Timothée in?"

He looks slightly impressed as he tells me, "You really are quick on the uptake, aren't you? To be honest, I was grieved when I found out that Sinclair had gone to America. I didn't have much pull in America at the time, you see, so finding him was next to impossible. But, before me sat an opportunity. His brother. The thing he cared for more than anything in the world. The thing that was the bane of his existence. The thing he had lost. So, I took little Timothée in and I raised him. After going through such a cruel ordeal, Timothée was grateful to me. I knew that when Sinclair and I inevitably met up again, he'd be happy to see his brother alive."