Sienna
The courthouse loomed like a mausoleum.
Stone columns. Iron gates. And steps that felt like they were carved from every secret I'd ever tried to bury. I climbed them slowly, my heels echoing in the quiet morning, each click like a countdown to something I wasn't ready for.
Cameras flashed. I didn't stop.
Security tried to wave me through, but I lifted the subpoena in my hand like a shield. No one questioned me.
Because everyone already knew.
The daughter of Richard Hart. Testifying in a fraud trial against the man who raised her—and standing beside the man who might've orchestrated it all.
I sat in the witness waiting room with trembling fingers, sipping water I couldn't taste.
"Mrs. Russo?" a soft voice called.
I looked up. A clerk. Young. Nervous.
"They're ready for you."
So am I, I wanted to lie.
Instead, I stood and walked into the courtroom with a spine made of glass and fire.
Dominic was already there.
He sat near the front with his legal team, his posture relaxed but alert. He looked devastating in a charcoal suit, one hand curled loosely over his knee, the other resting against his lips.
He didn't look at me.
I didn't look away.
The prosecutor smiled politely as I was sworn in. "Please state your name."
"Sienna Hart-Russo."
The room fell still as the questioning began. At first, it was surface-level.
My role in Hart Financial before my father's passing. My knowledge of internal operations. Whether I was aware of any off-book transactions.
"No," I said clearly. "I wasn't involved in the accounting side."
"Are you aware of a file your father referred to as the 'Red Folder'?"
I stiffened.
So they knew about it.
Barely blinking, I answered, "I overheard him mention it once. Years ago. But I never saw it."
The prosecutor tilted his head. "You don't know what was in it?"
"No."
He nodded, moving on.
But from the corner of my eye, I saw Dominic shift.
That tiny movement told me everything I needed to know.
He knew what was in that folder. And he hadn't told me.
That realization rattled inside me like a match in a dry forest.
The prosecutor thanked me and excused me from the stand. As I stepped down, I passed Dominic. His eyes flicked up to mine—sharp, searching.
But I didn't stop.
I walked out of the courtroom with one thought screaming in my mind.
He's still lying.
Dominic
The second the courtroom doors closed behind her, Dominic stood.
He didn't care what his lawyers said. He didn't care what the board thought. He followed Sienna down the hall like a man chasing absolution.
She didn't slow.
Not until they reached the far end of the corridor, where the crowd thinned and the press couldn't follow.
Then she turned. Her eyes were flame and fury.
"You told me you didn't know about the Red Folder."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't deny it either."
"Sienna—"
"Don't." Her voice cracked. "Don't feed me any more half-truths."
He took a step closer. "If I'd told you everything, you would've walked away."
She stared at him. "And you think I won't now?"
He didn't answer.
Because he wasn't sure anymore.
For the first time, she looked at him like he was the enemy. Not the mystery. Not the lover. Just the man who destroyed her father—and wore the ruin like armor.
"Where is the file?" she asked.
"I don't have it."
"Liar."
"I swear to you, Sienna. I tried to get it. Your father hid it somewhere even I couldn't reach."
Her voice dropped. "Then who has it?"
His jaw clenched. "Someone who doesn't want you to find out what's inside."
She swallowed. "What's in it, Dominic?"
He hesitated.
And that was her answer.
She brushed past him without another word.
Later That Night – The Penthouse
I didn't turn the lights on.
I stood at the window, staring at the skyline with numb fingers and a tighter chest than I'd ever admit.
I didn't cry.
Crying was something I'd burned out of myself years ago. But I thought about the way my father used to stand like this—in the dark, hands in his pockets, eyes on the city like he could will it to obey him.
And I wondered how long he'd been carrying the weight of his secrets.
Long enough to crack beneath them.
I heard the door click open behind me.
My pulse skittered. I knew those footsteps.
"Dominic."
He didn't speak at first.
I turned to face him.
His tie was loose, hair slightly disheveled. He looked tired. Worn.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
"I shouldn't have let them call you to testify," he said finally.
"You didn't 'let' them, Dominic. You orchestrated it."
"No," he said, stepping closer. "I tried to stop it. But there are things moving beneath this case that even I can't control anymore."
"Try me," I said.
He stared at me for a long time. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a worn, creased envelope.
My breath caught.
He handed it to me without a word.
I opened it slowly.
Inside was a single photo. Grainy. Surveillance-style. My father… handing off a red file to a woman I didn't recognize. Her face was partially obscured, but the timestamp was unmistakable.
The photo was dated three months before his arrest.
"I found this yesterday," Dominic said. "The file didn't disappear. He gave it to her."
"Who is she?"
"I don't know yet. But I'm working on it."
I stared at the image. A thousand questions flooded my mind.
Then one finally settled.
"Why show this to me now?"
"Because you're right. I've lied. I've manipulated this marriage for my own ends. But if we're going to survive this… I need you to know everything I know."
I looked up at him, a war waging in my chest.
"Then tell me the truth," I said.
And this time, he did.
Dominic
I told her about the first deal I made with Richard Hart.
How we'd partnered on an off-the-books venture. How he'd taken risks that could've destroyed us both. How, when things went south, he vanished the records—and pinned it on me.
I told her about the shell companies. The embezzlement trail. The forged documents that implicated me.
And how I'd spent the next three years rebuilding my name from the rubble.
She didn't speak for a long time.
When she did, her voice was quiet.
"You married me to take back what he stole."
"Yes."
"And then what?"
"I stayed married because… I couldn't tell if I wanted revenge or redemption anymore."
She looked away.
"I don't know if I can forgive you."
"I'm not asking you to," I said. "I'm asking you to help me finish what he started. Whatever's in that red folder… it's not just about your father. It's about what's still coming."
Sienna
I should've pushed him away.
Should've told him to leave.
But the fire between us had never been logical.
It was instinct. A current. A need.
So when he reached for me, I didn't flinch.
And when his lips touched mine, I let them stay.
Because in that moment, the war paused.
Just long enough for the truth to breathe.