The Sinclair Protocol – My Delivery Girl is a Private Military Queen
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 4: The Revelation
Part 1: Power Games
St. Paul’s Cathedral, London
The cathedral’s silence held the weight of a thousand shocked breaths. Marcus stood frozen at the altar, his face a study in dawning horror as he stared at the woman he’d so publicly discarded yesterday.
“Olivia,” he managed finally, his voice carrying a tremor. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Oh, now it’s Olivia?” She moved forward, the Yto Gonzaga making her every step look like liquid grace. “Not ‘delivery girl’ anymore? How fascinating.”
Sebastian kept perfect pace beside her, his hand resting possessively on her lower back. The gesture wasn’t lost on Elena Rothschild, who sat rigid in the front pew beside Lord Blackwood.
“You can’t just…” Sophia’s voice cracked, “you can’t just take over our wedding!”
“Can’t I?” Liv’s smile was pure poison. “You see, darling, there’s something Marcus forgot to mention during your whirlwind romance.”
“This is absurd,” Marcus stepped forward. “You’re just a-“
“A what?” Liv’s voice turned sharp. “Say it, Marcus. Tell everyone exactly what you think I am. Tell them about the delivery girl you kept hidden for five years while building your empire.”
Sebastian watched the color drain from Marcus’s face as understanding began to dawn.
“Or better yet,” Liv’s smile turned predatory, “shall I tell them who really built that empire?”
“Security!” Marcus’s voice cracked with desperate authority. “Remove these… these intruders immediately!”
Two cathedral guards moved forward uncertainly, clearly torn between Marcus’s command and the Archbishop’s earlier announcement.
“Intruders?” Liv’s laugh was pure crystal. “Darling, do show them the paperwork. The officially approved ceremony schedule.”
The Archbishop nodded to his assistant, who produced an elegant document bearing the cathedral’s seal. “The Blackwood-Sinclair ceremony is scheduled for noon today. All proper protocols were followed.”
“Sinclair?” Marcus’s face went from red to white in an instant. “No. No, that’s impossible. You’re a delivery girl. I saw your records, your background…”
“Did you?” Liv moved closer, the Yto Gonzaga making her look like vengeance incarnate. “Or did you see exactly what I wanted you to see? Five years of playing small, of being invisible, while you took credit for every strategy, every deal, every brilliant market move.”
“She’s lying,” Marcus turned to the gathered elite. “This is some sort of con. Lord Blackwood, surely you can’t allow your son to-“
“Actually,” Sebastian’s voice cut through Marcus’s panic, “I’m rather looking forward to hearing exactly how my fiancée built your empire. Aren’t you, Father?”
Lord Blackwood sat frozen, his strategic mind clearly reassessing every assumption about his son’s ‘rebellious’ choice.
“Now then,” Liv’s smile was lethal, “shall we proceed with the correct ceremony? Or would you like to explain to everyone exactly how a ‘delivery girl’ managed to book St. Paul’s Cathedral?”
Cathedral security materialized – four men in dark suits with earpieces, their movements professional and measured. Marcus’s face lit with desperate triumph.
“Remove them,” he ordered, straightening his wedding suit. “This woman is delusional. She’s just a delivery girl trying to ruin my wedding.”
“Actually, sir,” the head of security stepped forward, his earpiece crackling, “we’ve just received confirmation. The cathedral is now secured for the Blackwood-Sinclair ceremony.”
“What?” Marcus’s voice rose. “Do you have any idea who I am? Who the Montgomerys are?”
“Yes, sir,” the guard’s face remained impassive. “We also know exactly who Ms. Sinclair is. And her security clearance supersedes yours.”
“Security clearance?” Sophia’s voice trembled. “Marcus, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Marcus snapped. “This is ridiculous. She’s nobody. Just a delivery girl who-“
“Who somehow has higher security clearance than you?” Liv’s smile was lethal. “Who somehow managed to book St. Paul’s Cathedral? Sebastian, darling, perhaps we should show Marcus exactly what a ‘nobody’ can do?”
The security team moved to flank Liv and Sebastian, their positioning making it clear whose authority they recognized.
“This is your last warning, Mr. Thorne,” the head of security stated flatly. “Please clear the altar. The Blackwood-Sinclair ceremony begins in ten minutes.”
“Get your hands off me!” Marcus struggled as two security guards firmly gripped his arms. “Do you know who I am? The deals I control?”
“Former deals, darling,” Liv’s voice carried just enough venom to make him freeze. “Amazing how quickly things change when people learn who really built that empire.”
“The deals someone else designed,” Liv’s voice carried just enough edge to make Sebastian glance at her sharply. She was still playing her part beautifully – almost too beautifully for a simple impostor.
Sophia’s perfect composure finally shattered as security approached her. “Marcus? Marcus, what is she talking about? What deals?”
“Nothing!” he snarled, but his eyes held panic as they met Liv’s knowing smile. “She’s nobody! Just a delivery-“
“Sir,” the head of security cut him off, “please don’t make this more difficult than necessary.”
The cathedral watched in stunned silence as London’s rising financial star and his society bride were professionally but firmly escorted toward the exit. Sophia’s designer dress rustled against ancient stones, her mother’s horrified gasp echoing through the vaulted ceiling.
“This isn’t over,” Marcus twisted to face Liv one last time. “You can’t just-“
“Can’t what?” Liv’s smile was pure ice. “Take back what’s mine? Oh Marcus, darling… this is just the beginning.”
The heavy cathedral doors closed behind them with a resounding thud, leaving behind a sea of shocked faces and whispered speculations.
“Quite the performance,” Sebastian murmured, still not entirely convinced. “Though I have to wonder – what delivery service teaches their staff to command cathedral security like that?”
“Oh, darling,” she turned to him, something dangerous dancing in her eyes, “still thinking I’m playing pretend?”
Part 2: As Scheduled
The Archbishop cleared his throat as the last echoes of Marcus’s removal faded. “Shall we proceed with the… scheduled ceremony?”
The gathered elite of London shifted uncomfortably in their pews, torn between scandal and curiosity. Lord Blackwood sat rigid, watching his son stand beside a woman who commanded cathedral security yet claimed to be a delivery girl.
“Of course,” Liv’s smile was serene. “Sebastian, darling?”
He offered his arm, still playing along with what he assumed was an elaborate con. Yet something nagged at his strategic mind – the way she moved in that Yto Gonzaga, the quiet authority in her voice, the way security had responded to her without question.
“You know,” he murmured as they took their positions at the altar, “most delivery girls don’t have the Archbishop of Canterbury performing their weddings.”
“Most delivery girls,” she whispered back, “don’t spend five years building empires from shadows.”
“You’re either the most brilliant fraud I’ve ever met,” his voice held genuine admiration, “or…”
“Or?” Her eyes danced with secrets.
“Dearly beloved,” the Archbishop began again, his voice stronger now. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Sebastian Blackwood and…”
He paused, looking at his papers with sudden uncertainty.
“Olivia Sinclair,” Liv supplied smoothly, making Sebastian’s hand tighten on hers. “Though some people knew me better as their favorite delivery girl.”
As the Archbishop continued the ceremony, whispers rippled through the cathedral like wind through silk.
“Did you hear? The delivery girl from the news…”
“But security obeyed her without question…”
“The Gonzaga dress – that’s from the private collection…”
“Sinclair Global… but it couldn’t be…”
Sebastian felt Liv’s hand steady in his as the whispers grew. She stood perfectly poised, as if she’d been trained from birth for moments like this. The delivery uniform from yesterday seemed more like a costume with each passing second.
“If anyone knows any reason,” the Archbishop intoned, having recovered his composure, “why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony…”
The cathedral held its breath, half-expecting Marcus to burst back through the doors. But only silence answered.
“Sebastian Blackwood,” the Archbishop continued, “do you take this woman…”
Sebastian studied Liv’s face as he answered “I do,” still trying to reconcile the crying delivery girl from yesterday with this creature of pure grace and power beside him.
“And do you, Olivia Sinclair,” the Archbishop paused slightly at the name, “take this man…”
“I do,” her voice carried clear authority, making Sebastian’s strategic mind race. No one could fake that level of natural command.
“Then by the power vested in me…” the Archbishop trailed off, his gaze flickering between them with a mixture of bewilderment and something akin to fear.
Liv’s smile bloomed, a secret garden unfurling across her face as she turned to face Sebastian, her almost-husband. “Ready to find out exactly who you’ve married, darling?” she purred, her voice a silken caress that sent a shiver tracing down his spine.
He met her gaze, his mind still reeling from the revelations, the shifting sands of reality beneath his feet. The woman before him was a paradox, a walking enigma wrapped in a Yto Gonzaga gown and veiled in untold power. He couldn’t define her, couldn’t categorize her, and that, he realized, was precisely what intrigued him.
“Immensely,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, laced with a mixture of apprehension and a thrill he hadn’t felt in years. “But I have a feeling the answers will only lead to more questions.”
Her fingers brushed against his cheek, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity surging through him. The scent of her perfume – jasmine and something else, something elusive and untamed – filled his senses, intoxicating him. He leaned closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame, the murmurs of the stunned congregation fading into a distant hum.
“Perhaps,” she whispered, her eyes dancing with mischief, “but isn’t the journey of discovery always more rewarding than the destination?”
And then, she kissed him.
It wasn’t a chaste, ceremonial peck for the benefit of the gathered elite. It was a kiss that stole his breath, a kiss that tasted of secrets and power and the intoxicating promise of untold adventures. Her lips were soft yet firm, her touch hesitant at first, then bolder as she deepened the connection.
He responded instinctively, his hand finding the small of her back, drawing her closer, as if to anchor himself to something real in the midst of the swirling chaos. The taste of her, like dark chocolate and forbidden fruit, flooded his senses, overriding all rational thought.
The world around them seemed to fade away, the grandeur of the cathedral, the whispers of the stunned congregation, the weight of their family legacies – all dissolved into nothingness, leaving only them, two souls entwined in a kiss that was both a beginning and an invitation to the unknown.
In that kiss, he tasted the truth, the power, the mystery that lay beneath Olivia Sinclair’s carefully constructed facade. He tasted danger and desire, ambition and vulnerability, and a fierce, untamed spirit that mirrored his own. And in that moment, he knew, with a certainty that defied all logic, that he had just married someone truly extraordinary.
As they broke apart, breathless and slightly dazed, Liv’s smile was radiant. “Well, darling,” she purred, her voice laced with triumph. “Now that we’ve made it official, shall we show them all exactly what happens when a delivery girl marries a Blackwood?”
The sound of the church organ and the applause followed them as they walked through the long aisle back to the doors. The sounds surrounded them, but all there were was their eyes seeking each others gaze. He couldnt read her face, not yet, but he knew he will discover it, with no matter what it takes. All the other faces seemed as paintings, with the time stopped in them and they looked through the soul to watch what it has to say.
The limousine waited as the sounds were far away, as from another planet. As they went to it she pushed him to enter first and looked the people in the eyes, and gave a small elegant nearly unvisible sight of the head as gratitude. She turned around and went next to him. All in the car seemed like forever, as the expectation was so strong and the past week happened a lot that was to process.
The driver made a signal and the limousine drove away.
Part 3: Family Matters
London Streets
The Rolls Royce glided through London’s streets, its tinted windows hiding the newly married couple from prying eyes. The cathedral’s bells still echoed in the distance, but something had changed. Sebastian’s playful demeanor had shifted since their kiss at the altar – a kiss that had felt less like theatre and more like recognition.
“So,” his voice was carefully controlled now, aristocratic features set in hard lines. “We’re going to see my family.”
Liv turned from the window, the Yto Gonzaga catching light like liquid diamonds. “Are we? How fascinating.”
“Indeed,” his eyes held a new calculation. “Father insists. Apparently, he’s quite eager to meet the woman who commands St. Paul’s security and wears a dress designed for Olivia Sinclair.”
“The delivery girl, you mean?” Her smile remained serene.
“You know what’s interesting?” Sebastian leaned forward slightly. “That kiss. For a moment, it reminded me of something. A charity gala, six years ago. Olivia Sinclair was there, before she disappeared from public view.”
“Was she?”
“Same perfume,” his voice turned sharp. “Same way of tilting your head when you’re about to destroy someone. I thought I was playing along with an elaborate con, but now…”
“Now?” Her eyes danced with dangerous amusement.
“Now we’re going to face the combined strategic minds of the Blackwood dynasty. Sure you want to maintain this delivery girl facade?”
“Oh, darling,” Liv’s smile turned predatory, “what makes you think I’m the one who should be worried about that meeting?”
Sebastian leaned back against the Rolls Royce’s leather seats, his aristocratic features set in new understanding. “That gala. You were wearing Yto Gonzaga then too.”
“Was I?” Liv watched London’s elite streets roll past. “How observant of you to remember a dress from six years ago.”
“Not the dress,” his voice held fresh calculation. “The way you commanded the room. The same way you just commanded St. Paul’s. No one learns that kind of authority delivering packages.”
“Perhaps I’m a very dedicated employee?”
“You know what else is interesting?” He turned to face her fully. “The Blackwood family has exactly three properties where we hold important meetings. Yet I never told you which one we’re heading to.”
“Haven’t you?”
“No,” his smile turned sharp. “But you haven’t asked our driver once about the destination. Almost as if…”
“As if?”
“As if you’ve been there before. Perhaps during the Sinclair-Blackwood merger discussions? The ones Olivia Sinclair handled personally before she mysteriously stepped back from public view?”
Liv’s smile remained serene, but something dangerous danced in her eyes. “Are you asking me something specific, darling?”
“I suppose I am,” he watched her carefully. “Who exactly did I just marry?”
“Oh, Sebastian,” she reached for his hand, her touch holding more authority than submission, “isn’t that the question you should have asked before saying ‘I do’?”
The Rolls Royce turned onto a private drive, ancient oaks creating a natural tunnel toward Blackwood Manor. Sebastian watched as Liv’s posture shifted subtly – almost imperceptibly – but in a way that spoke volumes to his trained eye.
“You know,” he said quietly, “most people get lost in these grounds. The maze of drives, the multiple entrances. Yet you haven’t looked out once to check our route.”
Through the windscreen, Blackwood Manor’s gothic spires began to emerge from the morning mist. The family seat for fifteen generations of financial power players.
“More interesting still,” he continued, “you’re sitting exactly as my mother always insisted was proper for a Blackwood bride. Spine straight, hands folded just so, right ankle crossed behind left. Not the kind of thing they teach in delivery services.”
“Perhaps I’m a quick study.”
“Or perhaps,” his voice held new understanding, “this isn’t your first time playing these games with my family.”
The car slowed as it approached the main entrance, where Lord Blackwood and the entire family would be waiting. Liv’s smile turned sharp as crystal.
“Games?” She adjusted the Gonzaga with perfect grace. “Oh darling, you have no idea what game we’re really playing, do you?”
The Rolls Royce stopped. Through the tinted windows, they could see the gathered Blackwood dynasty waiting on the steps.
“Ready to face the family, delivery girl?” Sebastian’s voice held challenge.
“Always,” Liv’s eyes danced with secrets. “Question is… are they ready to face me?”
Just before opening the Rolls Royce’s door, Sebastian turned to her, his aristocratic features set in sudden realization.
“You’re really her, aren’t you? Olivia Sinclair. The actual heiress to Sinclair Global Finance.”
“Am I?” Liv adjusted the Yto Gonzaga with the practiced ease of someone born to wear such creations.
“The woman who disappeared from public view after graduating from Harvard and Oxford. The one who was supposed to be traveling the world, but instead…” his voice held new understanding, “instead was building Marcus’s empire from the shadows while playing delivery girl.”
“Such an interesting theory.”
“The Ghost Trader everyone’s been whispering about. The brilliant strategist who designed algorithm ST-47. The heiress who was supposedly too busy partying to run her father’s company…” He studied her face with fresh eyes. “While all along, you were…”
“Yes?” Her smile held secrets that could shake the financial world.
“But why? Why spend five years pretending to be nothing while building Marcus’s empire?”
“Oh darling,” she turned to face the gathered Blackwood dynasty on the manor steps.
The car door opened to face the family that had ruled London’s financial world for fifteen generations.
“Shall we?” Her smile turned predatory. “After all, it would be rude to keep your family waiting… especially when they’re about to learn exactly who their rebel son just married.”
