They Thought I Was A Fool, I Was Their Only Chance Chapter 02

They Thought I Was A Fool, I Was Their Only Chance Chapter 02

Every eye in the room snapped toward me.

A flash of irritation and disappointment crossed my father’s face.

My brother frowned and looked away.

My sister came over, bent down, picked up the cube, and placed it back in my hands.

“Sloane, sweetheart, why don’t you play in the lounge outside?”

Her voice was gentle. She did not scold me.

She even pulled a peppermint from her pocket, unwrapped it, and put it in my mouth.

“Claire has something to handle here. You’ll distract Dad if you stay.”

She stroked my hair.

There was no anger in her eyes, only the pity people reserved for something helpless.

That was the Sinclair family’s idea of kindness.

They never shouted at me. They never hit me.

Instead, with the softest smiles, they had slowly removed me from the center of the family.

Blake Mercer came over as well.

He crouched until he was eye level with me, wearing a perfectly tender smile.

“Listen to your sister, little miss.”

“There’s a cupcake waiting outside. I can have Megan take you to watch cartoons. How does that sound?”

He waved toward the door.

“Megan, take Miss Sinclair out and close the door behind you.”

The peppermint was sweet.

It was bitter.

Blake had just ordered someone to remove me from my own family’s meeting.

He had worked for the Sinclairs for ten years, but he was still a hired dog.

Now the dog was trying to put its owners outside.

And my family did not react at all.

“Come on, Miss Sinclair,” Megan said as she entered.

She reached for my arm.

“Why rush her out, Counsel?” Grant Calloway said.

Then he laughed.

He turned his coffee cup slowly, his amused gaze settling on me.

“So this is the youngest Sinclair? The one everyone talks about?”

His tone was mild.

But the words struck every Sinclair in the room like a slap.

My father’s face went from furious to ghostly pale.

My brother turned sharply, his eyes cutting toward Grant.

“Mr. Calloway, our business dealings don’t involve my family.”

“Sloane has a cognitive disability. Show some respect.”

My brother’s voice was cold enough to frost glass.

He usually looked at me with disappointment, but instinct still made him protect me.

Grant gave a quiet laugh.

“You misunderstand me, Mr. Sinclair. I wouldn’t dream of being disrespectful.”

“But if this is the moment that decides whether the Sinclairs live or die, the whole family should be here to witness it.”

“It might even be good for the little heiress to see how the company changes hands.”

The cruelty in his words went straight for the heart.

Claire began to tremble with anger and pointed toward the door.

“Grant Calloway, you’ve gone too far.”

Blake immediately stood and moved between them.

He dipped his head, his sincere tone making me want to vomit.

“Grant, Claire is upset. Don’t hold it against her.”

“It really isn’t appropriate for Sloane to stay. If she gets frightened, Richard will feel terrible.”

He turned to my father.

“Mr. Sinclair, don’t you agree?”

My father looked at me for a long moment.

His eyes held exhaustion, helplessness, and the hollow acceptance of a man who had finally surrendered.

When I was eight, Ethan had turned down a seven-figure Wall Street offer to stay home and teach me to read for an entire year.

He had used flash cards and read the same words to me again and again.

I had stared at him without feeling anything.

At last, he had thrown the cards in the trash, rubbed his red-rimmed eyes, and touched my head.

He had said it was fine. The Sinclairs could afford to support one dependent.

When I was ten, Claire had flown in the best neurologist in the country.

Cold sensors had been pressed against my head.

The tests showed unusual cortical activity, but no normal language-processing pattern.

She had stood outside the room with the report in her hands and cried through the night.