SIENNA
There are silences louder than any scream.
The morning after the gala, our penthouse was full of them.
I sat at the breakfast bar with a cup of black coffee I didn't remember making. My phone buzzed with texts—publicists, headlines, board members sending forced congratulations about my "graceful debut" as Dominic's wife.
They didn't know I'd gone to war in heels.
They didn't know I was bleeding beneath the diamonds.
Dominic walked in, crisp in his navy shirt and slacks, not a wrinkle on him, as if sleep came easily to men like him.
Maybe it did.
Or maybe monsters didn't need rest.
I didn't look at him. He didn't speak.
Instead, he poured a drink—coffee with a splash of something darker—and leaned against the marble counter.
Watching me.
Like he always did.
"Sleep well?" I asked, voice hollow.
"Not really."
"Too much conscience keeping you up?"
He almost smiled. Almost. "If I had one, I'd be sleeping worse."
That made me look up.
Because for the first time, I didn't hear arrogance.
I heard regret.
But I wasn't ready to believe in his guilt yet.
Not without proof.
And I was close to it.
The flash drive was still hidden in the lining of my jewelry box. I hadn't opened it yet. Not because I didn't want to know—God, I wanted to know—but because once I saw what was inside, I couldn't unsee it.
Truth doesn't heal.
It wounds.
And this one might cut deeper than any of his betrayals so far.
DOMINIC
She was starting to see through me.
Not because I was slipping.
Because she was sharpening.
Every word, every silence—she dissected it. Assessed it.
She was turning into someone dangerous.
Which meant she was becoming exactly who I needed her to be.
Even if it killed me.
I watched her from across the room, her profile cut like glass in the morning light, her robe knotted too tight at the waist, jaw tighter still.
I knew she'd found the flash drive.
She hadn't said anything yet, but her posture had changed.
She was holding something.
And soon, she'd decide whether to use it.
SIENNA
"Do you ever lie to yourself?" I asked suddenly.
Dominic raised a brow. "Only when it makes me more efficient."
"Is that what I am? Efficiency?"
"No." His voice dropped. "You're inevitability."
I stared at him. "You talk in riddles."
"I talk in facts."
"That's not a fact, Dominic. That's a confession dressed up as philosophy."
We stared at each other.
Then he pushed away from the counter and walked over to me. Slowly. Deliberately.
His hand brushed my shoulder, just once. "I married you to own what your father tried to take. But I kept you because you were never his to begin with."
I swallowed. "Kept me?"
"You think you're free, Sienna?"
I stood.
Taller than I felt.
Colder than I was.
"I think I'm choosing when to stop playing along."
He smiled then—small, dangerous, almost proud.
"Good."
Later That Day – SIENNA
I sat alone in the study with the flash drive in my palm.
No excuses left.
No time for hesitation.
I plugged it into my laptop.
It was encrypted. Password-protected.
Of course it was.
My father never left anything unguarded.
I stared at the blinking screen.
Tried every phrase I remembered.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
The last birthday card he ever gave me. He'd written something on the bottom in faded pen, something I always thought was just a dad being corny.
My girl, the only code I'll ever trust is the one you taught me first.
I typed it in.
SIENNAJUNE11
The password unlocked the drive.
Files loaded.
Dozens of them.
Transactions. Audio clips. Signed contracts.
And a folder named: "For Her Eyes Only"
My heart stopped.
I clicked.
A video played.
My father, sitting in his office. Face grave. Eyes tired.
"Si," he said.
I froze.
"I don't know if you're watching this before or after everything falls apart. I hope it's never. But if you are… that means I failed."
He looked away for a second.
Then back at the camera.
"You have questions about Russo. You should. Because he wasn't always the enemy. At one point, he was the partner. We were going to merge companies—quietly. A private agreement. But then… he changed the terms."
My breath caught.
"He found something. On me. Something I thought I buried. And he used it. Not to ruin me—but to force me out."
He laughed bitterly. "He's smarter than me, Sienna. More ruthless. He doesn't want the company. He wants control. Of me. Of you. Of the entire board. He wants to rewrite what legacy means."
The screen went dark.
Then:
"Trust him only as far as you can control him. And if that ever becomes impossible… burn it all down."
DOMINIC
When I returned that night, the penthouse was dark.
Too quiet.
Her shoes were by the door, but she wasn't on the couch. Not in the kitchen. Not in the bedroom.
"Sienna?" I called.
No answer.
My pulse ticked faster.
Then I heard it—faint music.
From the rooftop.
I stepped into the elevator and ascended to the private rooftop lounge I rarely used.
She stood at the edge, barefoot, wearing only a silk slip. Hair wild. Arms crossed over her chest.
Looking like a ghost at peace with the haunting.
She didn't turn around when I joined her.
"You lied to me."
Not a question.
Not an accusation.
Just a sentence.
"You saw the drive," I said quietly.
She nodded.
"What are you going to do with it?"
Her eyes turned to me, burning. "That depends on how long you keep pretending to be the villain in this story."
"I'm not pretending."
"But you're not telling the whole truth either."
"I never promised to."
"I never asked you to."
Silence stretched.
Wind pushed through her hair.
Then she said it.
"Why did you do it, Dominic? Why my father? Why me?"
I looked at her.
At everything I'd taken.
At everything I hadn't earned.
And for the first time in a long time… I almost told the truth.
But not yet.
Not until she was ready.
Not until she believed it.
So I gave her the only answer I could.
"I never meant for it to be you."
SIENNA
His words weren't enough.
But they were something.
A crack in the mask.
A fracture in the ice.
And as I stood beside the man who destroyed my world, I realized I didn't want to destroy his.
Not yet.
Because if there was a war still coming…
…I wanted to know which side he'd choose when it truly mattered.
And whether I'd still be standing beside him.
Or across from him.
Holding the match.