SIENNA
The gala was everything I expected from Dominic Russo.
Opulence.
Precision.
A curated parade of Manhattan's elite, every guest draped in diamonds and secrets.
The ballroom at The Avalon Hotel shimmered with crystal chandeliers and champagne towers. A string quartet played something haunting and classical, while camera flashes sparked like lightning across the red carpet outside.
And there I stood—dressed in midnight silk that clung to me like a second skin, slit high up my thigh and back bare, chosen not for me, but for them.
For the cameras.
For the whispers.
For him.
Dominic had picked the dress. His tailor had sent the matching heels. His assistant had sent a makeup artist.
But the diamond choker?
That he clasped around my neck himself.
"I don't need you dripping in Russo power," he murmured, fastening the clasp from behind me, his fingers brushing my skin. "I want you drowning in it."
I looked at him through the mirror's reflection. "Careful. I'm a good swimmer."
His lips curved, slow and wolfish. "I'm counting on it."
He held out his arm.
I took it.
Not because I trusted him.
But because power didn't walk into a room.
It commanded it.
And tonight, we were power—packaged in beauty and weaponized charm.
DOMINIC
She was flawless.
Every angle, every movement. Controlled elegance. Poised silence.
She didn't fawn.
She didn't falter.
She took her place beside me as if she'd been born to it, chin high, eyes steady.
And yet… beneath the polish, I could feel the tension humming in her veins. She wasn't playing my game anymore. She was building her own.
Good.
Let them underestimate her.
Let them assume she was a pretty piece of my empire.
By the time they realized she was the fuse—this whole city would already be on fire.
SIENNA
"Dominic," said a voice smooth as aged wine. "And this must be the new Mrs. Russo."
Lucien Graves.
Tall. Silver-haired. Eyes like razors behind his charming smile.
His handshake lingered a little too long. "You wear power well, Sienna. Your father would've been... conflicted."
I didn't let my smile drop. "Then I'm doing something right."
He laughed. "I see she bites, Dominic."
Dominic's grip on my waist tightened. "Only when provoked."
"I remember Richard once saying, 'The world doesn't make room for women like my daughter.'" Lucien sipped his champagne. "Seems you've carved it out yourself."
"And you were the one trying to keep me out of it," I said.
His eyes flickered.
Dominic interjected smoothly. "Lucien, don't start a war you can't win."
Lucien raised a brow. "Don't worry. I never fight battles I haven't already fixed."
He walked away, but the air felt colder in his absence.
Dominic leaned close, voice like smoke in my ear. "He's watching you."
"So are you."
"I watch what I protect."
I turned my head slightly. "And what you control."
He said nothing.
But his silence was answer enough.
DOMINIC
She played Lucien perfectly.
No fear. No desperation.
She wielded words like a blade wrapped in velvet—and I saw the flicker of doubt cross Lucien's face.
He was testing her.
Which meant he saw her as a threat.
Good.
But it also meant the time was ticking.
Lucien was many things—an old family friend, a financier, a vulture in thousand-dollar suits—but most of all, he was dangerous.
He had buried kings.
And now he wanted to unmake queens.
SIENNA
Later in the evening, I slipped away from the crowd.
The bathroom was a sanctuary of marble and silence.
I stared at my reflection. Not the gown. Not the lipstick.
Just me.
Sienna Hart-Russo.
I didn't recognize her anymore.
She didn't hesitate.
She didn't blink.
She didn't wait for someone to rescue her.
She was the rescue.
I opened my clutch. Tucked behind the compact and lip gloss was a flash drive.
Encrypted. Unmarked.
I'd found it buried inside a hollowed book in my father's old study—hidden under a false spine titled Balance Sheets & Bribes.
Funny.
I'd laughed when I discovered it.
Then I cried.
Now, I held the truth in the palm of my hand.
I just didn't know which part of it would burn first.
Flashback – A Week Before the Arrest
"Why do you keep things from me?" I asked my father.
He stood at the balcony, eyes on the skyline, the city lit like a warning flare.
"Because the less you know, the longer you survive."
"Survive what?"
He turned then. "Russo."
Present Day
I returned to the ballroom just as the first dance ended.
Dominic's eyes found me instantly.
He didn't smile.
He never did in public.
But something shifted in his expression—a flicker of something I didn't want to name.
We danced.
Not because we wanted to.
But because people expected it.
"Are you enjoying the show?" I asked, leaning into him.
"I never enjoy it," he said lowly. "I orchestrate it."
"Even me?"
His hand slid slightly lower on my back. "Especially you."
I should've hated him for it.
But I didn't.
Because every part of me that still burned for revenge… also burned for understanding.
For answers.
For him.
And I didn't know which part would consume me first.
DOMINIC
She danced like she ruled the world.
I kept my grip loose, my stance strong.
We moved in tandem—measured, graceful, calculated.
But inside, I felt the ground shifting.
She was planning something.
And so was I.
I knew what she'd found in her father's office.
I knew she'd connected Lucien's name.
I also knew it wouldn't stop her.
She was searching for a truth too ugly to survive in daylight.
And the worst part?
She deserved to find it.
Because everything she'd lost—her father, her freedom, her illusions—was tied to the choices I made.
For the empire.
For control.
For us.
SIENNA
Later that night, back at the penthouse, I sat on the edge of the bed, barefoot, my dress pooled around my legs like spilled ink.
Dominic stood by the window, unbuttoning his cufflinks, silent as usual.
"You knew he'd be there tonight," I said.
"Lucien's always where the fire is hottest."
"Did my father know he was working with you?"
A pause.
Then: "He suspected."
"Did he suspect that you'd frame him?"
Silence again.
Then Dominic walked toward me, slow and deliberate, every step a warning.
"I never said I framed your father."
"You never denied it either."
He crouched in front of me, resting his hands on my knees.
His voice was soft.
Dangerous.
"I did what I had to do to protect what was mine."
"What am I, then?" I asked. "Collateral?"
His eyes held mine.
"No. You're the price I'm willing to pay."
I didn't know if that made me stronger.
Or damned.
But I knew one thing for certain:
I wasn't done burning yet.
And neither was he.