Chapter 230.

The room fell silent.

"I don’t need a family name to know who I am."

He paused.

"I don’t need a title. I don’t need a fortune. I don’t need a boardroom. I don’t need an empire."

His voice grew quieter.

"I don’t need any of it."

For a moment, he looked almost relieved.

"I am just Christian." He looked straight into the camera. "From this day on."

The silence lasted three seconds.

Then the room exploded.

"Christian!"

"Mr Sinclair!"

"Are you legally renouncing your inheritance?"

"Can you confirm that you are stepping down from all executive positions?"

"Does this mean you’re leaving the Sinclair family?"

"Will your mother support this decision?"

"Christian, what happens to your shares?"

"Are you prepared to lose control of the family businesses?"

"Is Kylie Benneth the reason for this announcement?"

"Will you be marrying her?"

"Does Miss Benneth know you’re making this decision?"

The questions came so quickly that they seemed to overlap.

Christian stood still behind the podium.

He had expected the noise. He had expected the disbelief. What he hadn’t expected was how strangely light he felt.

For the first time in his life, he had said something that could not be taken back and hadn’t immediately begun calculating how to repair the consequences.

He had told the truth. It was terrifying. It was also the first thing he had done in years that felt entirely his.

He waited until the noise began to subside. He looked toward the first reporter.

"Let’s start with the engagement."

The room quieted almost immediately.

A woman in a cream suit stood.

"Mr Sinclair, your mother confirmed this morning that the wedding between you and Isabel Dolce is proceeding as planned. Are you contradicting that statement?"

"Yes."

The woman blinked. "Can you elaborate?"

Christian rested his hands on the podium. "There will be no wedding."

The sentence travelled through the hall like a spark.

He continued before the room could erupt. "There will be no marriage between Isabel Dolce and me. The engagement never involved me."

"Did you inform Miss Dolce before making this announcement?"

"She doesn’t have to agree with it."

A murmur rose.

Christian continued.

"She deserves to be with someone who chooses her freely. I cannot offer her that, and I won’t insult her by pretending otherwise."

Another reporter stood.

"Was your relationship with Kylie Benneth the reason for the cancellation?"

"No."

The reporter looked surprised.

Christian’s expression remained calm.

"My relationship with Kylie made me confront something I should have dealt with a long time ago. The engagement was never a choice I made for myself."

He paused.

"That was my mistake."

Christian glanced toward the next raised hand.

A man near the centre aisle stood.

"Mr Sinclair, you mentioned renouncing your title and privileges. Can you clarify what that means in practical terms? Are you giving up your inheritance?"

Christian nodded once.

"I’m stepping away from the role my family has planned for me. My legal team will make the necessary arrangements regarding any formal renunciation, and my business interests will be addressed through the appropriate legal processes."

"Will you surrender your shares?"

"That will depend on the legal structure and the agreements in place. I’m not going to make a false promise about documents that haven’t been completed."

A few reporters exchanged glances.

Christian continued.

"But I won’t use the complexity of those arrangements as an excuse to remain in a position I have publicly said I no longer want."

A woman raised her hand. "Would you say that your decision is impulsive?"

Christian looked at her.n"No."

"You’re giving up a fortune, possibly a family legacy, and the future you were raised to inherit. You did this within hours of a very public scandal involving a woman you’ve been romantically linked to. How can you assure the public that you’re thinking clearly?"

He considered the question. It was a fair one. He didn’t resent it.

"I can’t ask you to believe that a decision this significant is simple."

He glanced down briefly. "And I won’t pretend that I have every detail of my future worked out."

He looked up.

"But I’ve had more than a day to think about this. I’ve had years."

His voice grew quieter.

"The difference is that today, I’m finally saying it aloud."

The room settled.

"People keep asking whether I’m prepared to lose my inheritance. I understand that question. It’s a great deal of money, and I know exactly how fortunate I’ve been."

He paused.

"But nobody seems to ask what it costs to spend your entire life becoming a person you never chose to be."

The journalist lowered her microphone.

Christian moved on.

A reporter from one of the country’s largest entertainment outlets stood.

"Mr Sinclair, the online conversation surrounding you and Kylie Benneth has become one of the biggest trending topics in the country. There are photographs of Miss Benneth with several men. Some people have questioned her character and suggested she may have pursued you because of your wealth. What would you say to those allegations?"

Christian’s expression cooled.

"I would say that you have just repeated allegations about a woman whose character you have no basis to judge."

The reporter stiffened. "I’m asking for your response."

"And I’ve given it."

A beat.

"If you want to know whether Kylie Benneth pursued me for money, ask yourself why a woman who has repeatedly argued with me, challenged me, and told me exactly what she thinks of me would suddenly become a different person because I have money."

The reporter opened her mouth.

Christian continued.

"And for the record, I have never needed a woman to pursue me for money. If I wanted someone who was impressed by my bank account, I could find her without dragging Kylie Benneth into it."

The laughter disappeared.

He looked directly at the reporter.

"But I don’t want someone impressed by my bank account."

His voice softened.nHe paused. "I want someone who doesn’t need my permission to have an opinion."

A faint smile touched his mouth.

"And Kylie has never had a problem providing that."

The room laughed again.

This time, Christian allowed himself a small smile. Then it faded.

"So I suggest that if you’re going to discuss her, you start by remembering that she’s a human being. Not a headline, not a theory, and not a woman you can reduce to a photograph because it’s easier than admitting you don’t know her."

The reporter sat down.

Christian looked toward the next raised hand.

A young woman near the aisle stood.

"Mr Sinclair, you’ve spoken about Kylie with obvious affection. Are you asking her to marry you?"

The room erupted again.

Christian closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened them, there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "That was quick."

The journalist smiled nervously. "People are curious."

A few people laughed.

Christian shook his head. "No. I’m not asking Kylie to marry me today."

The hall quieted.

He let the words settle.

"I love her. I’ve said that publicly because I’m tired of pretending otherwise. But I won’t stand here and make a promise on her behalf, and I won’t use a press conference to pressure her into giving me an answer she hasn’t had the chance to consider."

He paused.

"If she wants me, I want her. If she doesn’t, I will respect that."

The answer seemed to surprise the room.

A reporter at the back called out, "Even after giving up your inheritance?"

Christian turned toward him. "Especially then. She doesn’t owe me love because I made a decision about my life."

He looked around the hall.

"She doesn’t owe me gratitude. She doesn’t owe me a relationship. She doesn’t owe me a second chance because I finally did something I should have done years ago."

His voice became firm.

"I made this decision because I needed to make it. Not because I expect her to reward me for it."

For the first time that morning, he saw a few reporters stop typing.

They were listening. Really listening.

He wasn’t asking Kylie to validate his rebellion.

........

When the press conference finally ended, Christian stepped away from the podium.

The cameras continued flashing.

Reporters shouted questions as security guided him toward the side exit.

"Christian! One final question!"

"Will you be moving out of the Sinclair estate?"

"Are you going to speak to your mother?"

"Have you contacted Kylie Benneth?"

"Do you believe she watched the announcement?"

That last question made him pause.

Only for a second.

Then he continued walking.

He didn’t know whether Kylie had watched. He didn’t know whether she was still angry.

He didn’t know whether she had heard his apology and believed it, or whether she had switched off the television halfway through because she couldn’t bear to hear his voice.

He didn’t know what she needed.

And that uncertainty was the one thing he couldn’t solve with money, influence, or a phone call.

His communications director caught up with him in the corridor.

"That was—"

"Stop speaking."

The man stopped.

Christian loosened his tie. "Don’t tell me how well it went."

His director hesitated.

"I was going to say the public response is already significant. The engagement announcement is being picked up by every major outlet. The renunciation statement is leading several broadcasts. The family office has been trying to reach us."

Christian kept walking.

"Your mother has called seven times."

He stopped. He looked at his phone. There were seven missed calls, and three messages.

His director watched him.

"Do you want me to arrange a meeting with the legal team?"

"Yes."

"And your mother?"

Christian stared at her name.

For a moment, he was a child again.

A boy who had spent years trying to understand how to make the woman he loved happy without losing the parts of himself she didn’t understand.

He could almost hear her voice.

’After everything I’ve done for you.’

He closed his eyes, then he opened them.

"Not yet."