It's Your Turn To Cry and Beg, Dear Uncle
Chapter 32: His Confession

Chapter 32: His Confession

James felt his heart racing. His brow twitching, almost knitting into a frown. However, he quickly composed himself, successfully masking any signs of nervousness or surprise. He perfectly schooled his face into a neutral expression.

But, deep down, he kept reassuring himself that his grandfather’s question wasn’t pointing to anything ambiguous. His brain began producing one explanation after another trying to support this argument. It was as if his defense mechanism had been suddenly triggered.

The first explanation was that his grandfather, Creighton, was somewhat technologically challenged. After all, in his time, technology wasn’t as advanced, and the internet was still limited.

Secondly, Creighton paid no mind to gossip, considering it a waste of time and aimed at nothing but to harm others. The accuracy of such rumors was always questionable. And if they turned out to be false yet he had already believed them and spread them around, wouldn’t that be deeply embarrassing?

For these reasons, Creighton held gossip in utter disdain.

Thus, James concluded that Creighton was simply asking out of curiosity because it was unusual for James not to defend Kyra. So, James responded in a casual manner, "What’s going on with us? Nothing. We’re the same as always."

Unfortunately, Creighton’s gaze darkened, and his expression turned foreboding. "Don’t play games with me, James. Do you think your grandfather is a fool? You’re still too inexperienced to hide anything from my eyes!"

James pursed his lips. Creighton continued, his tone growing sharper. "I am far older than you, and my experience far surpasses yours. I’ve fought my way through the military world and encountered countless types of people. Not to mention Synders Corps, which I joined hands with your father building it from the ground up into one of the country’s economic pillars. And you think you can deceive me with such pitiful excuses?"

"You’re too naïve, my grandson." Creighton shook his head, clicking his tongue. "So, let me ask you again. What happened between you and Kyra?"

James remained silent. He didn’t answer immediately, but his expression had changed this time. The relaxed demeanor was gone. His eyes locked onto his grandfather’s, his dark irises meeting Creighton’s brown ones while his hands clenched tightly on his lap.

James sighed, closing his eyes before admitting, "There’s a problem between me and Kyra."

"Because of Lila?" Creighton responded swiftly. Though phrased as a question, his tone carried certainty.

"Yes," James exhaled again, this time with a hint of irritation.

He was almost completely drained by all this drama. Leading a company was already a heavy burden, and this only added to his exhaustion. His heart felt nearly depleted. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

He could easily handle billion-dollar projects and make decisions with his entire company hanging in the balance. But when it came to matters of the heart, it felt like unraveling an unsolvable mystery. No formula, idea, or experience seemed enough to resolve this matter. There were so many feelings to consider, each carrying equally heavy risks.

"I don’t want to beat around the bush. So, I want you to be honest. Who’s the plagiarist here?" Creighton continued, giving James no room to breathe and going straight to the point.

James glanced at his grandfather and exhaled heavily. This question didn’t really need an answer. From Creighton’s expression, James could tell that his grandfather already knew everything and was only seeking confirmation directly from his mouth.

So, James didn’t dodge the question. "Lila."

Creighton nodded, as if to say, I thought so. Then, speaking in his matter-of-fact tone, he easily drew conclusions from James’s statement. "And you’ve done nothing to that woman. You’ve allowed Lila to take credit for Kyra’s hard work because you want to bury the evidence without leaving anything that could lead back to you. So, you let Lila do the dirty job."

Then, the old man paused for a moment before resuming, "I assume the evidence that has you walking on eggshells is this book at the center of the controversy."

James clenched his jaw. Taking a deep breath, he tried to diffuse the tension lingering in the air. "You don’t need to worry, Grandpa. I’ll take care of everything. It’ll all be fine."

"It doesn’t seem fine. At least, not as fine as you’d like it to be," Creighton quickly corrected his grandson.

James was struck dumb. His body froze under his grandfather’s words, which now clearly shimmered with anger. "I admit that it’s a mess right now. But, it’s not entirely out of hand. Even if I didn’t do anything, the matter would still end in Kyra’s favor, after all her skill speaks for itself. It’s the right approach! I’m handling it in my own way."

"Not well enough, apparently. If you were capable of handling everything as you claim, the plagiarism issue wouldn’t have escalated to the point that it spelled another problem! Because of your half-assed actions, Kyra is now lying in a hospital bed. That is proof of your incompetence."

"Grandpa..."

"What have I always taught you, James? The very first lesson I drilled into your head when you stepped into the ruthless business world," the old man asked, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every inch of James as if he were a judge about to give his final sentence.

James pressed his lips together. "To always be decisive in making decisions, even if it means being ruthless."

Creighton nodded. "Because fleeting sympathy will sow doubt, and doubt..." he gestured toward James.

"...becomes a weakness, and we cannot afford weakness in a leader," James finished his grandfather’s sentence.

Creighton nodded in satisfaction, then fixed his gaze firmly on James. This time, his expression grew more serious, and his piercing eyes carried a silent threat.

"So, I will ask you this one last time: What happened between you and Kyra?"

James immediately opened his mouth to respond, but Creighton cut him off with yet another warning. "Think carefully before you decide to answer. And let me remind you one more time, my grandson. I may be old, but I am not blind."

James closed his mouth, his words swallowed before they could escape. He sat still, silent as stone. Inside, the gears in his mind were spinning furiously. He’d be a fool to ignore the implications behind Creighton’s question this time.

As if the old man was afraid that he wasn’t clear enough, he spoke again, "After all, I am also a man and I was once young like you. Hence, as a fellow man, I’m more or less capable of understanding another man’s nature. It might not be accurate, but the eyes are indeed the window to one’s soul."

From the start, the old man’s inquiries had been referring to that one specific direction. His anxious heartbeats from earlier had been his instincts trying to warn him of the incoming danger. Now, it was clear to him what Creighton wanted. It wasn’t an answer but a confession.

Since the conversation at the hospital, James hadn’t had the chance to organize his thoughts or reflect on his feelings. Now, he found himself at a crossroads, consumed by a dilemma that stifled his every move.

This time, it was hard for him to simply deny his feelings, even as a formality. For some reason, he couldn’t lie—not to Creighton. But as James met his grandfather’s unyielding gaze, he hesitated to reveal everything. Instead, his heartbeat grew even fiercer, as if warning him to remain silent.

Seeing his grandson’s hesitation, Creighton’s body tensed. He had remained calm up until now, thinking James was level-headed despite his indecisiveness. At least he had believed James held no special feelings whatsoever. But James’s silence set off every alarm in Creighton’s head.

Jaw tightening, the old man rephrased his question, this time more straightforward. "If you’re struggling to answer the question, let me rephrase it. Are the two of you involved in an improper relationship?"

The bluntness of his grandfather’s question rendered James’ entire being paralyzed. His throat tightened. He didn’t know how to respond.

If he said yes, it wasn’t entirely true—they weren’t in any formal relationship. But if he said no, that wasn’t correct either, because they had nearly crossed the line. Lastly, his heart was already halfway corrupted by selfish desires.

Creighton pursed his lips. "I’ll take your silence as confirmation—"

"No!" James interrupted, only to realize what he’d done a second later. He rubbed his temples. "What I mean is..."

Creighton raised an eyebrow, a flicker of hope shone in his stern expression. Perhaps this situation could still be salvaged.

Yet, in that moment, James’s mind was flooded with the image of Kyra. Her beautiful blue eyes wet with tears, her trembling lips struggling to hold back the sobs threatening to escape, and the words she had spoken struck deep to his very soul.

"My heart still desires you," she had said. "So don’t waver, and hate me."

No.

James shook his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it anymore.

Kyra was everything to him—her presence filled the void in his heart. She completed him when he was barely half a piece, mere fragments of what was left from the death of his parents.

She gathered each piece, made him whole and alive.

She had saved him more than he had saved her. Perhaps that’s why he fought so hard to do right by her. But, if that had ruined her in return, he would much rather drown in a blissful sin with her.

Although he wasn’t entirely sure of his feelings, he would deny what he desired no more. He would set himself free from the relentless fight between his heart and morals.

He would be selfish and take a bite of the forbidden fruit.

"I love her, Grandpa," he confessed.