Chapter Text
Rain tapped against the glass walls of Sinclair Group’s towering headquarters — an architectural marvel of steel, stone, and mirrored secrets. From the top floor, Enid Sinclair stood by the wide window, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her gaze lost somewhere between the skyline and the heavy memories clouding her mind.
At only 28, Enid had become a titan in the industry — the youngest president to lead a conglomerate that spanned multiple sectors. Her father, the feared and revered David Sinclair, had passed away three years ago. Cancer had taken him swiftly, mercilessly, and far too soon. On his deathbed, he had looked her in the eyes and said: "Lead without fear. But never lead alone."
Back then, Enid was a brilliant strategist, but far too young, unseasoned, and grieving. That’s when Wednesday Addams reappeared — not as the playful senior from her university days, but as a composed and powerful force cloaked in calm and confidence.
She had offered her hand.
And Enid had taken it without question.
Together, they built Sinclair Group from a fragile legacy into an unstoppable empire. Enid was the face, the mind, the prodigy. Wednesday was the iron spine, the storm beneath the calm, the silent shadow behind every sharp decision.
Enid had always admired her. Looked up to her. Trusted her.
Loved her? Not like that.
It was late that night when Wednesday asked Enid to meet in her office — not the grand presidential suite, but the CEO’s more austere and guarded room two floors below. The room felt different that night. Dimmer. Heavier. As if something irreversible was about to be set in motion.
Wednesday was already there, seated behind the desk, her black blazer crisp against the leather chair, fingers steepled under her chin. Her eyes, so steady and unreadable in boardrooms, were strangely soft — almost hesitant.
Enid closed the door gently behind her. “What’s wrong? You look… serious.”
Wednesday stood up slowly, walking over to the minibar to pour herself a glass of water. She didn’t drink alcohol when Enid was around. Never had.
“I need to tell you something,” Wednesday said at last, her voice calm, but unusually quiet. “Something I should have told you years ago.”
Enid leaned against the edge of the desk, her brows furrowing. “Wednesday, if this is about the legal heat Sinclair Pharma’s acquisition brought—”
“No,” Wednesday interrupted, turning to face her. “This isn’t about business. It’s about me. About who I really am.”
Silence thickened between them. Enid blinked.
“I’m listening.”
Wednesday exhaled. And then, piece by piece, she unwrapped the truth.
“I’m not just your CEO. I’m not just your senior from university.” She walked closer, each step deliberate. “I’m also the head of an underground syndicate. A mafia, if you want to call it that. I’ve been leading it for nearly a decade.”
Enid didn’t flinch. Not immediately. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Wednesday pressed on. “It’s not a mask I wear. It’s a part of who I’ve always been. Even back in university… even when we met. That world has always been mine.”
Enid’s voice came out hoarse. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I can’t keep lying to you. Not after everything we've built. And... because there’s one more thing.”
Enid’s heart thudded. Her instincts screamed. She knew what was coming, and she wasn’t ready for it.
“I’m in love with you,” Wednesday said, finally. “I have been for years.”
The rain outside seemed to hush at that moment. Even the hum of the city faded away.
Enid looked at her, truly looked at her — the woman who had protected her, supported her, been there through every crisis, every sleepless night.
And suddenly, it made sense. The overprotectiveness. The late-night check-ins. The way Wednesday ’s gaze lingered when Enid wasn’t looking.
“…I see,” Enid whispered, looking away.
Wednesday ’s expression didn’t change. She didn’t expect anything. Didn’t ask for anything. She just stood there, hands at her sides, waiting.
“I… I had my suspicions,” Enid admitted. “About the mafia thing. I figured you weren’t entirely clean, but I chose not to dig.”
“And the other thing?”
Enid shook her head slowly. “I didn’t see that coming. And I’m sorry, but… I don’t feel the same, Wednesday. I’ve never looked at you that way. I don’t even like women.”
Wednesday smiled softly, heartbreak flashing just once in her eyes before she buried it. “I know. I’ve always known.”
Enid’s throat tightened. “Why tell me then?”
“Because I wanted you to know the truth. I didn’t want to keep hiding what I am or how I feel. But I never expected anything in return.” She looked down at her hands. “You don’t owe me anything, Enid.”
The younger woman stepped forward, placing a trembling hand on Wednesday’s arm. “You’ve done more for me than I can ever repay. I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”
“You would’ve,” Wednesday said quietly. “But thank you for letting me believe I was needed.”
There was a pause.
Then Enid spoke again. “Leave that world, Wednesday. Leave the syndicate. It’s not who you are anymore.”
“Enid—”
“You’ve earned a future. Take the CEO position. Be here with me. I need you to keep leading with me.”
Wednesday’s lips parted, but Enid silenced her with a firm gaze.
“You’re more than the blood you spilled. More than the darkness. If I can carry my father’s sins and still build something better… so can you.”
Wednesday’s eyes glistened. She had killed for her. Lied for her. Burned bridges and spilled blood for her. But in that moment, Enid gave her something she never dared to want — redemption.
“I’ll do it,” Wednesday whispered. “I swear to God, Enid… I’ll protect you until my last breath. Even if it kills me.”
Enid gave her a small, grateful smile — unaware that those words would one day come true.