SIENNA
The boardroom was colder than I expected.
Not in temperature—but in atmosphere.
Twelve men. One woman. And me, the daughter of the man they once feared, now seated at the head of the table beside the man they feared more.
Dominic Russo didn't wait for introductions. He didn't ease the tension.
He fed on it.
"This is Mrs. Sienna Hart-Russo," he said, his voice even but sharp. "You'll address her as such in this room."
There was a pause—a flicker of hesitation that smelled like doubt.
And then the eldest of the board members, a Mr. Kessler, cleared his throat. "Of course. Welcome, Mrs. Hart-Russo."
I met his gaze. "Sienna is fine."
Dominic didn't look at me, but I felt his disapproval like a shadow under my skin.
I didn't care.
He might be the puppet master here, but I wasn't a string to be pulled.
The meeting began with updates—financial projections, ongoing litigation, whispers of regulatory pressure. I said nothing for the first half hour. I simply watched. Listened. Memorized the way their eyes moved, which names made them shift in their chairs.
Half of them were loyal to my father's legacy.
The other half? Bought and sold.
When Dominic turned to me mid-discussion and asked, "Sienna, would you care to weigh in on the Tokyo expansion?"—I didn't hesitate.
"I don't support it," I said clearly. "The local partners haven't demonstrated consistent returns, and last quarter's numbers showed a 4.6% loss. If we push forward now, we bleed capital for pride."
A few brows lifted. One of the younger VPs actually blinked, startled.
Dominic tilted his head. "You've done your homework."
"I was raised on ledgers."
He smiled faintly—sharp and approving. "Then let's hold off the expansion for now. We'll revisit in Q2."
Just like that, my voice carried weight. And they knew it.
When the meeting adjourned, the room emptied slowly. But not before Kessler leaned toward me and murmured, "Your father would've hated this."
I met his eyes. "Then it's a good thing I'm not trying to be him."
His expression didn't change.
But he didn't look down on me again.
DOMINIC
She didn't flinch.
Not when they tested her.
Not when they tried to cut her out with numbers and industry jargon.
She matched them move for move—and even when she made them uncomfortable, she never once lost her calm.
I'd seen the look in her eyes before.
It was the same look her father wore when he negotiated with oil barons and left them breathless.
But unlike Richard Hart, she didn't bluff.
She calculated.
And she was quickly learning the game.
"She's dangerous," Luca said again when we met later that afternoon in my downtown office.
"Smart," I corrected.
"Smart and dangerous. That combination either makes a woman your salvation—or your destruction."
I looked out the window. "Sometimes, it's both."
Luca raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you want from her?"
What did I want from her?
Control? No. I had that.
Loyalty? Maybe.
But beneath all of it—there was something harder to define. Something I hadn't planned for when I orchestrated this marriage.
She wasn't just adapting.
She was transforming.
And if I wasn't careful… she'd see through everything.
SIENNA
Back at the penthouse, I stood in the wardrobe room—one of three, because apparently Dominic Russo didn't believe in modesty—staring at a row of gowns delivered by the stylist he'd hired.
We had the gala tomorrow night.
And every single dress in the collection was designed to turn heads.
Silk. Velvet. Backless. High-slit. Every shade from blood red to midnight black.
I didn't recognize myself in them.
"You'll need to choose something," Dominic said from the doorway.
I hadn't heard him come in.
I didn't turn around. "Do you always dress your women like weapons?"
"Yes," he said simply. "Because in my world, beauty is armor. And attention is leverage."
I turned then. "Is that what I am to you? Leverage?"
His eyes darkened slightly. "You're much more than that."
"But you used me."
"Yes."
"Framed my father."
Silence.
Heavy. Charged.
"You still believe that?" he asked, stepping into the room.
"I believe nothing about this marriage was coincidence."
He stopped a few feet from me. "That's because it wasn't."
I hated how he said it—without shame. Without remorse.
He didn't deny anything.
Which was worse than a lie.
"I found Lucien Graves's name in the investor memo," I said, shifting gears.
Something flickered in his gaze.
"Did you?"
"He and my father had a history."
"Most powerful men do."
"He's dangerous."
Dominic stepped closer. "So are we."
His voice was low now, the distance between us evaporating. I didn't move away. But I didn't give in either.
"I want access to my father's records," I said, lifting my chin. "All of them. Financials, legal files, correspondence."
Dominic's lips curved, but there was no amusement in it. "You want to dig, dig. But be ready for what you find."
"I'm not afraid of ghosts."
"No," he murmured. "You're afraid of the living."
Our eyes locked. And for a beat, I couldn't breathe.
Because he was right.
Flashback – One Month Before the Arrest
I found my father at the edge of the terrace, late at night, staring into nothing. A glass of scotch in his hand, his tie loosened, his face pale.
"Dad?"
He turned. And for the first time in my life, I saw real fear in his eyes.
"If anything happens to me, Sienna," he said quietly, "promise me you won't trust Dominic Russo."
I froze. "I don't even know Dominic Russo."
"You will."
"Why are you saying this?"
He exhaled shakily. "Because the game's over. I just don't know who's already won."
Present Day
I sat on the edge of the massive bed that night, the ring on my finger pressing like a brand.
I wanted answers.
And I was starting to understand that Dominic Russo would only give them on his own terms—drip-fed, manipulated, laced with just enough truth to keep me chasing.
But I wasn't a pawn.
Not anymore.
I reached under the bed and pulled out the folder I'd hidden—full of printed emails, copies of bank transactions, and old board reports. I didn't trust leaving anything on my laptop. Too easy to track.
At the bottom of the stack was a note I'd written myself the night my father was arrested.
"They destroyed him. Now they'll try to break me too. Don't let them."
I ran my finger over the words.
Then I began to read again.
DOMINIC
"She's planning something," Luca said the next morning.
I didn't ask how he knew. I already had someone tracking her calls, her browser history, even the number of times she left the penthouse unaccompanied.
"She wants the truth," I replied.
"And when she finds it?"
"She'll understand."
"You think she'll forgive you?"
Forgiveness.
The word felt foreign in my mouth.
"She doesn't need to forgive me," I said slowly. "She just needs to need me more than she hates me."
Luca exhaled. "You're walking a tightrope, brother."
"I always have."
I turned to the skyline, already thinking about the gala, the press, the cameras.
Sienna would shine tomorrow.
And while they watched her dazzle—I'd be watching the shadows.
Because someone else was moving in the dark.
And I needed to know who they were… before she found them first.