The Sinclair Protocol – My Delivery Girl is a Private Military Queen

By Lea von Löwenstein

Chapter 5: Happy Family Clash

Part 1: The Blackwood Dynasty

Blackwood Manor Grand Hall

The morning mist curled around Blackwood Manor’s ancient stones as Sebastian helped Liv from the Rolls Royce. Lord Blackwood stood at the top of the steps, his expression carved from granite as he watched his rebellious son arrive with a supposed delivery girl.

“Father,” Sebastian’s voice carried calculated defiance. “May I present my wife?”

The gathered Blackwood dynasty responded with barely concealed disdain. Liv ascended the steps in her Yto Gonzaga, every movement perfect – too perfect for someone of her claimed background.

“Well,” Lord Blackwood’s voice dripped aristocratic frost, “shall we join our… other guests inside?”

The great doors opened to reveal the manor’s grand hall, where the Rothschild family waited. Elena Rothschild’s face twisted with raw fury at the sight of her almost-fiancé with his new bride.

“This is an outrage!” Lord Rothschild’s voice thundered through the space. “A delivery girl? In Blackwood Manor?”

“And now she claims to be Olivia Sinclair?” Elena’s laugh was cruel. “That’s rich. I knew Olivia at Oxford. We were-“

“Were we?” Liv’s voice cut like a blade. “Then you wouldn’t mind telling everyone about that private party at the Sinclair summer house? The one where you embarrassed yourself so thoroughly that Daddy had to make three phone calls to bury the story?”

Elena’s face drained of color.

“Or perhaps,” Liv’s smile turned predatory, “we should discuss what really happened to those merger papers last spring? The ones that mysteriously disappeared from your father’s safe?”

“You… you can’t possibly…” Elena stumbled back.

“Can’t I?” Liv’s voice held pure venom. “Shall we continue this delightful chat, Elena darling? I have so many interesting stories to share…”

“Enough!” Lord Rothschild’s voice cracked through the tension like a whip. “I will not stand here and listen to some… delivery girl attempt to blackmail my daughter with fabricated stories.”

He stepped forward, every inch the banking dynasty patriarch, his presence filling the grand hall. The morning light through the ancient windows cast harsh shadows across his aristocratic features.

“I knew Olivia Sinclair,” he continued, voice dripping with disdain. “She was a force of nature. Brilliant. Ruthless. The perfect match for the Rothschild legacy. You?” His laugh was cruel. “You’re nothing but an opportunist wearing a stolen Gonzaga.”

Liv stood perfectly still, the dress in question catching light like vengeful stars.

“Sebastian,” Lord Rothschild turned to address him directly, “this farce has gone far enough. Whatever game this woman is playing, whatever secrets she claims to know – she is not Olivia Sinclair. She’s just a delivery girl who’s watched too many society dramas.”

“The real Olivia,” he continued, moving closer to Liv, “would never have allowed Marcus Thorne to humiliate her publicly. Would never have played small. Would never have settled for being someone’s secret girlfriend for five years.”

His smile turned sharp as a blade. “So tell us, little delivery girl – how much did you pay for that dress? Or should I ask who helped you steal it?”

“This ends now,” Lord Rothschild’s voice carried generations of authority. “The marriage will be annulled immediately.”

“Agreed,” Lord Blackwood stepped forward, his expression granite-hard. “Sebastian, you’ve made your point about rebellion. Now it’s time to end this farce.”

The morning light through the manor’s ancient windows cast harsh shadows across the gathered dynasties – Rothschilds and Blackwoods united in their disdain for the supposed delivery girl who dared infiltrate their ranks.

“The papers can be drawn up within the hour,” Lord Rothschild continued. “We’ll handle the press, contain the scandal. By evening, you’ll be properly engaged to Elena, as planned.”

“And as for you,” Lord Blackwood turned to Liv, “whatever game you’re playing ends here. Though I must admit, you’ve played it remarkably well for a delivery girl.”

Sebastian felt Liv’s hand tighten ever so slightly on his arm. The Yto Gonzaga caught light like liquid diamonds as she stood perfectly still, her smile holding secrets that made his strategic mind race.

“How fascinating,” her voice carried something dangerous. “Tell me, Lord Rothschild, shall we discuss the real reason you’re so eager to force this divorce? Perhaps something about certain… irregularities in the Tokyo accounts?”

Both patriarchs stiffened imperceptibly.

“Or would you prefer,” her smile turned lethal, “to explain why the Rothschild-Blackwood merger really failed last spring? The true reason behind those missing papers?”

Part 2: Dynasty Games

“How dare you!” Lord Rothschild’s face turned crimson, his carefully cultivated composure shattering. “You insignificant little fraud! To stand there in a stolen dress and threaten-“

“Stolen?” Elena’s laugh bordered on hysteria. “That’s exactly what this is. A cheap con artist who probably seduced some shop clerk to get her hands on a Gonzaga!”

Their rage filled the grand hall, bouncing off ancient stones and family portraits. But Sebastian noticed something crucial – beneath their theatrical outrage, both his father and Lord Rothschild had gone very still at the mention of those Tokyo accounts.

“Security!” Lord Rothschild bellowed. “Remove this… this impostor immediately!”

“The marriage will be annulled,” Lord Blackwood’s voice cut through the chaos. “Sebastian, you will cease this childish rebellion and honor your obligations to the Rothschild alliance.”

But Sebastian caught the subtle exchange of glances between the patriarchs. Their fury seemed almost… orchestrated. As if they were trying to drown out Liv’s words with sheer volume.

“Such drama,” Liv’s voice remained silk-soft, deadly calm amid the storm. “One might almost think you’re trying to distract from something. Shall we discuss what that might be?”

The Rothschilds’ rage grew louder, but Sebastian felt Liv’s hand steady on his arm. Whatever game was being played here, he was starting to suspect his new wife wasn’t the one being outmaneuvered.

Two security guards moved forward, their steps measured and professional. The Rothschilds’ orchestrated rage still echoed off the manor’s ancient stones.

“Remove her,” Lord Rothschild commanded, but Sebastian noticed his father’s subtle hand gesture – a signal to wait.

“Interesting,” Liv’s voice remained deadly calm. “Your security seems… hesitant. Almost as if they’re receiving conflicting orders.”

The guards paused, caught between Lord Rothschild’s command and Lord Blackwood’s silent signal.

“How dare you question our authority!” Elena’s voice rose higher, more desperate. “This is our home, our world. You’re nothing but a-“

“A delivery girl?” Liv’s smile turned sharp. “Tell me, Elena darling, why are you working so hard to drown out my voice? Afraid I might mention something specific? Perhaps about a certain night in Tokyo?”

The security guards exchanged glances as Elena’s face drained of color.

“Enough!” Lord Rothschild’s rage seemed almost rehearsed now. “This ends now! Security, I said remove-“

“Actually,” Sebastian’s voice cut through the chaos, his strategic mind finally seeing the pattern, “I think we should let her finish. What exactly happened in Tokyo, father?”

The silence that followed held more truth than all the previous shouting.

As security stood frozen between conflicting orders, Liv’s phone buzzed softly. Her smile shifted into something more dangerous as she read the message.

“Perfect timing,” she murmured, just loud enough for Sebastian to hear. “Shall we begin the real game?”

“What game?” Sebastian’s voice held new curiosity.

“Lord Rothschild,” Liv’s voice carried through the grand hall, silencing the orchestrated chaos. “Perhaps we should discuss the actual reason you’re so desperate to force this divorce? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the Rothschild Finance algorithm that just went live in Tokyo, would it?”

Lord Rothschild’s face turned ashen.

“Or more specifically,” she continued, her Yto Gonzaga catching light like vengeful stars, “the fact that in exactly three minutes, when the Asian markets open, that algorithm will execute a series of trades that look remarkably similar to… what was it called? Oh yes. Algorithm ST-47.”

“Impossible,” Lord Rothschild whispered. “Those codes were protected. Only Alexander would have…”

“Alexander Rothschild?” Liv’s smile turned lethal. “Brilliant man. Such a shame about his sudden ‘vacation’ in the Maldives, isn’t it? Especially since he’s actually in Tokyo right now, about to present some very interesting findings about certain family trading patterns.”

The security guards took a step back as both patriarchs’ faces drained of color.

“Now then,” Liv’s voice held pure authority, “shall we discuss what happens next? Or would you prefer to keep shouting about delivery girls?”

Sebastian watched the scene unfold with new clarity. The delivery girl facade had cracked, revealing something far more lethal beneath. His strategic mind raced through the implications – the perfect timing, the flawless execution, the way both patriarchs had paled at the mention of Tokyo.

“Well,” he stepped forward, positioning himself deliberately beside Liv. “It seems my new wife has an interesting perspective on family business.”

“Sebastian,” his father’s voice held warning. “Don’t be foolish-“

“Foolish?” Sebastian’s laugh was sharp. “Like ignoring the fact that she knows details about the Tokyo trades that only someone at the highest levels could know?”

Elena’s face twisted with fury. “She’s lying! She has to be!”

“Is she?” Sebastian’s voice turned cold. “Then explain why both our fathers looked ready to faint at the mention of Alexander Rothschild’s location.”

“You can’t possibly be taking her side,” Lord Rothschild snarled.

“Actually,” Sebastian’s smile matched Liv’s now, “I think I am. After all, what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t support my wife? Especially one who seems to know exactly where all the family skeletons are buried.”

Liv’s hand found his, her touch carrying more authority than submission. “Darling,” her voice held dangerous amusement, “are you sure? Once we start this game…”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he turned to face the gathered dynasties. “Besides, I’ve always wondered what would happen if someone finally called their bluff.”

Part 3: Power Plays

The ancient clock in the grand hall chimed, marking the moment the power began to shift. Sebastian’s choice to stand with Liv had altered the game’s dynamics irrevocably.

“How disappointing,” Lord Blackwood’s voice turned arctic. “My own son, choosing to side with this… impostor.”

“Impostor?” Sebastian’s laugh held new edge. “Tell me, Father, why did our Tokyo trades suddenly mirror Algorithm ST-47 last month? The same algorithm that made Marcus Thorne’s reputation?”

Lord Rothschild stepped forward, but Liv’s voice cut through his attempt to speak.

“Two minutes until the Asian markets open,” she announced softly. “Shall we discuss how many billions the Rothschild-Blackwood alliance stands to lose when Alexander reveals those trading patterns?”

Elena’s composure cracked completely. “Daddy, she can’t possibly-“

“Oh, but I can,” Liv’s smile was pure venom. “Sebastian, darling, did you know your almost-bride has been running parallel trades through shell companies? The same pattern Marcus used… under my guidance.”

“Under your…” Lord Blackwood’s voice faltered as understanding dawned.

“You see,” Liv continued, her Yto Gonzaga catching light like liquid power, “while everyone was laughing at the delivery girl, no one noticed who was really designing their trading strategies. Who was really controlling the game.”

Sebastian felt the room’s atmosphere shift as centuries of aristocratic certainty began to crumble.

“One minute,” Liv checked her phone. “Shall we see what happens when the real Olivia Sinclair decides to stop playing small?”

“Name your price,” Lord Rothschild’s voice dropped low, calculated. “Everyone has one.”

The ancient hall held its breath as he pulled out his personal checkbook – a power move that had solved countless ‘problems’ before.

“Fifty million,” he wrote with practiced ease. “Tax-free, offshore account. Walk away now, before this gets… unpleasant.”

Sebastian felt Liv’s quiet amusement beside him as Lord Rothschild held out the check like a weapon.

“How fascinating,” her voice carried pure silk. “You still think this is about money.”

“One hundred million,” he amended the check, his hand steady but eyes desperate. “Plus a penthouse in Mayfair. That’s more than a delivery girl could earn in ten lifetimes.”

“Thirty seconds until the Asian markets open,” Liv smiled, checking her phone. “Tell me, did you offer Alexander the same deal before you tried to bury his report about the irregular trading patterns?”

Lord Rothschild’s hand froze mid-signature.

“Oh dear,” Liv’s voice turned deadly soft. “Was that supposed to be a secret? Like the real reason Elena’s been making all those late-night calls to Tokyo?”

The check trembled slightly in Lord Rothschild’s grip as the ancient clock ticked down.

“Ten seconds,” Liv announced pleasantly. “Shall we watch your empire crumble together? Or would you like to offer me another insulting bribe?”

“Well,” Sebastian’s aristocratic features settled into an amused smirk as he watched Lord Rothschild’s trembling check. “Shall we cash out, darling? One hundred million seems like quite the severance package for a delivery girl.”

His voice carried that particular Blackwood blend of privilege and mockery – but Liv caught the glint in his eyes. He wasn’t mocking her; he was baiting his father and Lord Rothschild.

“Hmm,” she adjusted the Yto Gonzaga with perfect grace. “What do you think, husband? Should we take the money and run? Or…” her smile turned predatory, “should we wait five more seconds to see what happens when Alexander’s report hits the Tokyo exchange?”

“Five seconds?” Sebastian checked his watch with theatrical precision. “That’s about four billion in Rothschild-Blackwood assets per second, isn’t it? Quite the expensive countdown.”

Lord Rothschild’s face went from red to white as the ancient clock ticked.

“Three…”

Elena grabbed her father’s arm.

“Two…”

Lord Blackwood reached for his phone.

“One…”

Liv’s smile was pure venom as she turned to Sebastian. “Darling, I think we’re about to be significantly wealthier than one hundred million. Shall we watch the markets burn together?”

The ancient clock struck the final note as Liv’s phone lit up with notifications. The room held its breath, waiting.

“My God,” Sebastian whispered, looking at his own phone. His smirk transformed into genuine awe.

The Rothschild-Blackwood alliance’s trading algorithm had just executed a series of catastrophic moves across the Asian markets. Billions in assets, redirected in microseconds. Their carefully constructed empire of shadows, exposed in the harsh light of public trading.

“Impossible,” Lord Rothschild stumbled back, his checkbook falling forgotten to the floor. “The failsafes…”

“Were designed by the same person who created Algorithm ST-47,” Liv’s voice carried pure silk. “Amazing how easy it is to bypass security when you wrote it yourself.”

Elena’s phone clattered to the marble floor as she stared at the cascade of notifications. “The Tokyo exchange… it’s…”

“Burning?” Liv suggested pleasantly. “Oh no, darling. It’s not burning. It’s being redistributed. To a rather interesting set of shell companies that seem to share a curious pattern with… what was that delivery service called again?”

Sebastian watched his father’s face as understanding finally dawned.

“You see,” Liv continued, her Yto Gonzaga catching light like victory, “while everyone was laughing at the delivery girl, no one noticed who was really delivering their downfall.”