I’m The One Guarding My Sisters’ Fortune

I was the only son of the Sinclair dynasty, with three older sisters who adored me without question.

Life was perfect until a strange, glitchy memo app appeared on my phone.

June 15: Victoria signs a blind liability guarantee for her male assistant. Sinclair Group loses ten billion in market value overnight.

September 3: Josefina is framed by her toxic ex, voted off the board, and stripped of all equity.

December 1: Megan gives up her trust fund to elope with a deadbeat, bankrupting the family.

I stared at the screen. My three billionaire safety nets were about to disappear.

From that day, I launched the Save My Wallet protocol.

I took Victorias black card and spent four million dollars in one afternoon. She spent two days handling fraud alerts and luxury returns.

I flew Josefinas private jet to Paris, ripped out the custom leather interior, and demanded a full remodel. She was so furious she forced me into an eight-hour transatlantic video call micromanaging the redesign.

I turned Megans climate-controlled wine cellar into a frat party, popping million-dollar vintages just to spray them at the walls.

I kept them too busy and sleep-deprived to check their phones, let alone ruin their lives over men.

As long as Cole Sinclair was around, their world revolved around me.

Everything was perfect until Silas appeared in Victorias executive office.

He looked at me, voice smooth but eyes icy. Little brother, the executive floor isnt a playground. Run along and play somewhere else.

The lounge fell silent.

The most aggressively protective CEO in the city was about to walk through those doors.

...

I still had half a garlic butter lobster roll in my hand. I hadn't even swallowed my last bite.

There were five people in the executive lounge. Even the newest staffer had been with my sister for at least six years.

Right now, their expressions were completely identical.

A painful, agonizing conflict of wanting to speak up but being terrified of saying the wrong thing.

Nancy, the admin coordinator, was the first one to crack. She let out a dry, awkward laugh.

"Silas, this is Ms. Sinclair's..."

"I know. He's the CEO's little brother."

Silas cut her off without even looking her way.

The way he said little brother had a slight upward lilt to it. It dripped with a very subtle, very deliberate disrespect.

"But even a little brother shouldn't be treating the executive suite like a food court."

"That lobster roll smells incredibly strong. What happens if a high-level client walks in?"

He glanced at the greasy takeout box in front of me, his brow furrowing in distaste.

"Besides, it's my first day. The rules of this office need to be established."

"When Ms. Sinclair isn't here, day-to-day operations fall under my jurisdiction."

He smiled, tilting his head at me like he was coaxing a toddler having a tantrum.

"Be a good boy. Pack up your snacks, and I'll have reception call you a black car to take you home. How does that sound?"

Nancy started panicking, her voice pitching up half an octave.

"Silas, you really don't understand the situation. Ms. Sinclair had this lounge specifically built for..."

"It doesn't matter who it was built for."

Silas turned his head, his tone still perfectly gentle.

But every single word carried an undeniable, heavy weight.

"Nancy, you've been with Ms. Sinclair for a long time. You should know better than anyone that the executive office is the face of the entire corporation."

"A kid sitting in here stuffing his face with greasy seafood... if word gets out, how does that make the Sinclair Group look?"

Fiona, the Director of Operations, set her coffee mug down and finally couldn't hold back.

"Silas, I highly suggest you wait until the CEO gets back before you..."

"Fiona."

Silas turned his profile to her, his smile never wavering.

"Ms. Sinclair authorized me to manage the daily affairs of this floor. This falls exactly within my purview."

"Unless... you're questioning the CEO's judgment?"

Fiona opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

I picked up a napkin and wiped the garlic butter off my fingers, taking my sweet time.

"What was that phrase you used earlier? Run along?"

Silas's smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

"I didn't say that," he corrected smoothly. "I said play somewhere else."

"Right."

I nodded slowly.

"So what you're saying is, you get to decide where I sit?"

"Mr. Sinclair. The whole company knows the CEO adores you. But business is business..."

"By the way," I interrupted him. "The passcode to the digital lock on that door? It's my birthday. 0816. You can ask literally anyone in this room."

"Technically speaking, this lounge belongs to me."

Nancy nodded so hard she looked like a bobblehead.

Silas went quiet for two full seconds.

He took a deep breath and completely rearranged his face.

This time, he wasn't smiling.

"Mr. Sinclair, every word I've said today is for the good of the company. It's not a personal attack."

He turned to Nancy, his voice shifting into the hard, clipped tone of an executive giving an order.

"Nancy. Notify reception. Starting today, anyone who is not an executive staff member must be logged and approved before entering this floor."

He paused.

"Everyone. No exceptions."

Nancy's face drained of color.

"Silas, this kind of policy... it really needs Ms. Sinclair's..."

"She gave me the authority." Silas cut her off smoothly. "I don't need to ask for her permission for every little thing."

Then he turned back to me.

This time, he didn't even bother keeping up the gentle facade.

"Mr. Sinclair, your behavior today has disrupted the workflow of this office."

"As the executive coordinator, I have the right to handle it."

He walked over to the glass doors, pulled them open, and nodded at the two security guards stationed in the hall.

"Please lock this lounge temporarily."

He looked back at me, his voice quiet but crystal clear.

"You can stay in here for a bit and cool off."

"Once I've given my report to the CEO, I'll let you out."

"Consider it... a learning experience."

Nancy shot up from her chair.

"Silas! Are you insane?!"

Silas raised a hand, stopping her in her tracks. The smile crept back onto his lips, so fake it made my skin crawl.

"Nancy, relax. I'm doing this for his own good."

"A spoiled kid needs someone to teach him boundaries eventually, right?"

The security guards pulled the doors shut. The lock clicked. The lighting in the room didn't change, but the atmosphere suddenly felt like we were all suffocating underwater.

Standing on the other side of the glass, Silas clapped his hands together lightly, like he had just wiped a smudge off a window.

"Alright." He turned to Nancy, his tone back to being perfectly pleasant. "Nancy, type up the meeting minutes from this afternoon and email them to me. The CEO will want to review them later."

Nancy didn't move.

"Silas..." Her voice was shaking. "Do you have any idea what you're doing right now?"

"I do." Silas said. "I'm restoring order to the executive suite."

"And Nancy, I wasn't asking."

Nancy's head snapped up, her eyes flashing red.

She had been with Victoria for eleven years. She was here back when the Sinclair Group was just a mid-sized firm. She had never been spoken to like this in her life.

She took a deep breath, ready to explode.

But Silas had already turned away, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing a number.

It connected almost instantly.

A heavy, authoritative voice echoed through the phone speaker.

"Silas, what is it?"

Silas's posture immediately softened. His tone became deferential, almost sweet.

"Uncle Arthur. I just got to the executive floor and ran into a bit of a situation. I wanted to run it by you."

The moment the name Uncle Arthur dropped, the lounge went dead silent again.

Gary's coffee cup froze in mid-air. Fiona's eyes widened.

The man Silas was talking to wasn't just anybody.

It was Arthur Mercer. A founding board member, a loyalist to our late father, and the current Head of the Supervisory Board.

Silas recounted the incident. His tone was aggrieved, his phrasing meticulously crafted to make him sound like a helpless professional just trying to do his job, while painting me as an unhinged, entitled brat throwing his weight around.

"...I really had no choice. The CEO isn't here, and the office was in total chaos. I had to follow protocol."

"Uncle Arthur, did I do the right thing?"

The line was quiet for a couple of seconds.

"You did the right thing, Silas. Rules are rules."

Arthur Mercer's voice wasn't loud, but it pierced right through the glass.

"I'll give Victoria a call later and tell her to get a leash on that brother of hers."

"A grown kid running wild around a corporate office. It's a disgrace."

Silas looked up, his eyes sweeping over everyone in the room before locking onto me. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Thank you, Uncle Arthur. I knew you'd understand."

He hung up, slipped the phone back into his pocket, and stood a little taller.

His entire aura had shifted.

Before, he was playing the polite newcomer. Now, he didn't even need the mask.

He looked right at me through the glass.

"Mr. Sinclair. You're a smart kid. I won't insult your intelligence by beating around the bush."

He crossed his arms, his voice perfectly level.

"I didn't come to this company to make enemies with you. But lines have to be drawn."

"You play along today, I put in a good word for you with your sister, and from now on, when you come up here, I'll turn a blind eye."

"Doesn't that sound like a win-win?"

I looked down at my cold lobster roll.

I looked back up, right as I was about to open my mouth.

Footsteps echoed down the marble hallway.

"Who gave the order to lock this door?"

It was Evelyn. Victoria's shadow. The Chief of Staff.

Evelyn stood in front of the glass doors, holding the master keycard in her hand.

She was in her early forties, had been with Victoria for thirteen years, and was literally there the day the company signed its first office lease.

Everyone in the building knew the unwritten rule: When Victoria wasn't around, Evelyn's word was god.

Her eyes swept over the locked door, the terrified staff inside, and finally landed on Silas.

"I'm going to ask one more time."

She adjusted her glasses, her voice as flat as a dial tone.

"Who gave the order to lock this door?"

Silas didn't answer immediately.

He studied Evelyn for a couple of seconds, his eyes lingering on the gold badge pinned to her blazer.

Chief of Staff: Evelyn.

"I did."

He kept his chin lifted. There wasn't an ounce of guilt in his voice.

"There was a disruption in the office. I utilized the authority granted to me by the CEO to handle it temporarily."

Evelyn didn't say a word.

She swiped her keycard. The doors beeped and unlocked. She walked straight past Silas and stopped right in front of me.

She looked at the cold, greasy takeout box on the table, and then at me.

"Cole. Are you alright?"

I shook my head.

Evelyn nodded once. She turned to Nancy.

"Have the kitchen prep a fresh order. Add a bowl of shrimp bisque. The CEO knew Cole was visiting today and specifically asked for it."

Nancy looked like she had just been handed a presidential pardon. She blurted a quick "Yes, ma'am!" and bolted for the door.

"Hold on."

Silas's voice cut through the air.

Nancy froze in her tracks.

"Evelyn."

Silas took a step forward, planting himself right between Evelyn and Nancy.

"I just explicitly stated that non-employees are no longer permitted to dine on the executive floor. That policy is effective immediately."

"Are you overriding my administrative decision?"

Evelyn slowly turned her head to look at him.

"Silas."

Evelyn finally spoke.

"I was the one who processed your onboarding paperwork. I know the exact limits of your authority better than you do."

"The CEO authorized you to coordinate daily administrative tasks."

She paused.

"That does not include HR. That does not include security deployments. And it certainly does not include... locking doors."

Silas's expression stiffened.

He recovered quickly, even managing a small, condescending chuckle.

"Evelyn, those are just words on a contract."

"Do you really think the CEO brought me up here just to be a glorified paper pusher?"

"You've been with her for thirteen years. You should know better than anyone..."

"She doesn't hire people based on job descriptions."

He tilted his head, his tone suddenly dripping with a bizarre, intimate familiarity.

"The dynamic between me and the CEO isn't something that can be summed up in an offer letter."

"Evelyn, you're a smart woman. I don't think I need to spell it out for you."

The moment those words left his mouth, Gary nearly dropped his coffee mug on the floor.

Fiona physically turned her head away to hide her face.

Nancy stood in the doorway, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Evelyn adjusted her glasses. Her expression didn't change by a single millimeter.

"Silas. Whatever your personal relationship with the CEO may be, while you are on Sinclair Group property, you follow corporate policy."

"Because those are the rules the CEO herself put in place."

She turned back to Nancy, her voice completely unchanged.

"Go. Get the food."

Nancy didn't hesitate this time. She practically sprinted down the hall.

Silas watched Nancy disappear, the smirk on his face dissolving inch by inch.

He turned back to face Evelyn.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Evelyn, I respected your seniority, which is why I tried to be polite."

"But you blatantly undermining me in front of the entire staff makes my job very difficult."

Evelyn didn't flinch.

"I locked this lounge because Cole's behavior was actively disrupting the workflow of this floor."

Silas lowered his voice, grinding out every single syllable.

"Arthur Mercer himself gave his blessing on this."

"Are you saying you outrank a founding board member?"

Evelyn tucked her tablet under her arm. Her tone was as dead and still as a frozen lake.

"Silas. Arthur Mercer is the Head of the Supervisory Board. His job is to ensure corporate compliance."

"He has absolutely zero jurisdiction over executive HR or office management."

She paused.

"That is written in the corporate bylaws. In black and white. It's not my opinion, and it's certainly not his."

Silas's eyes went entirely cold.

"Evelyn."

It was the first time he dropped her title completely.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"I do." Evelyn replied effortlessly. "Silas, the new executive assistant. Currently on his first day of work."

It wasn't a shout. But every word drew blood.

He spun around and looked at me.

Since Evelyn was a brick wall, he clearly decided to pivot and pressure the weakest link.

"Cole."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"I'm going to give you one last chance."

"Play along today, and I'll pretend none of this happened."

"You can keep coming up here, I won't stop you, and we stay out of each other's way."

"But if you keep pushing this..."

He trailed off, his eyes doing a slow sweep of my face.

"I have no problem calling Arthur Mercer down here to handle this personally."

"If this blows up, it's not going to end well for you."

I pushed the cold lobster roll away and looked up at him.

"Silas." I said.

"How long have you been in this room today?"

Silas frowned.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just curious." I said. "You walked in, locked the door, name-dropped a board member, tried to bully the Chief of Staff, and now you're trying to negotiate with me."

I tilted my head.

"Do you really think you have any leverage left?"

Silas's eyes snapped wide.

It wasn't anger. It was that frantic, cornered-animal panic of a man who realized he had miscalculated completely.

But he shoved it down fast.

He took a deep breath, forcing the polite smile back onto his face. But the mask was cracking. The venom was leaking through.

"You've got a sharp tongue on you, kid."

"I've always been this way. My sisters are used to it."

"Your sisters?"

Silas repeated the words softly, a sneer curling his lip.

"Your sisters aren't here right now."

"No matter how much they coddle you, they can't save you from this."

He took a step forward.

"So, think carefully, Mr. Sinclair."

He raised a hand and pointed straight at the open door.

"Are you going to walk out on your own, or do I have to have security escort you out?"

Evelyn stepped forward instantly.

"Silas"

"Evelyn, if you interrupt me one more time," Silas snapped, his voice turning vicious, "I am calling Arthur Mercer right now. We'll see how he feels about an assistant chronically obstructing executive operations."

Evelyn stopped.

Silas looked back at me, keeping his arm extended toward the door.

"Let's go, Cole."

I looked down at his outstretched hand.

I stared at it for about three seconds.

Then I looked up, past his shoulder, staring straight into the hallway.

Silas noticed my gaze. He frowned and slowly turned around.

Footsteps clipped sharply against the marble floor.

A figure appeared in the doorway.

Victoria stood there, her voice completely flat.

"What exactly is going on here?"