The Langford estate was too quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the sort that pressed on Sierra's skin and whispered of danger. The marble floors gleamed under the golden wall sconces, a luxury she used to adore but now found suffocating. Every portrait along the hallway seemed to watch her with judgmental eyes.
She had chosen this spot carefully. Far from the party rooms, far from staff and guests. A place where secrets could surface without an audience. Her heart raced, but her hands were steady against the wall. Tonight, she wasn't the perfect hostess or the glamorous actress. Tonight, she was a wife demanding answers.
Kolton appeared at the end of the corridor like a scene staged for maximum drama. His silhouette was sharp against the glow of the chandeliers, every line of his tailored black suit precise, controlled. His stride was calm, too calm, the confidence of a man who believed himself untouchable.
Her stomach twisted. Untouchable. The word hissed through her memory, Sarah's voice low and smug, Kolton's reply like poison dressed in velvet.
When he stopped in front of her, he wore the kind of smile that belonged on magazine covers—warm, perfect, rehearsed. "Sierra," he said gently, as if they'd just run into each other at a dinner party.
She forced her voice to steady. "We need to talk."
His brow creased in a show of concern, but his eyes didn't match. They were sharp, calculating, already strategizing his response. "Of course. About what?"
Her pulse drummed in her ears. She wanted to scream, About how you and your sister are betraying me in my own house. But screaming would give him power. So she let her words fall like daggers instead.
"About you," she said. "And Sarah."
For just a fraction of a second, his composure faltered. A flicker, barely there, but enough for Sierra to catch it. Then his mask slid back into place. He let out a soft laugh, smooth as whiskey.
"My sister?" he repeated, shaking his head. "Sierra, you've been under stress. It's natural for your mind to play tricks—"
"Don't." The word snapped out of her like a whip. "Don't you dare gaslight me."
He stilled. His expression softened again, but there was an edge beneath it now. "You've always had a wild imagination," he murmured, stepping closer, lowering his voice to something intimate. "It's one of the things I adore about you. But sometimes... that imagination runs away."
Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "Oh, please. That's the best you've got? I imagine scripts, Kolton. Not my husband whispering in the dark with his sister."
His eyes narrowed, though the rest of his face stayed maddeningly calm. "And what, exactly, do you think you heard?"
Sierra's heart stuttered. He doesn't know. Relief and rage collided in her chest. He was testing her, trying to measure how much she had.
For a moment, she considered bluffing. But then the word clawed its way out of her throat before she could stop it. "Untouchable," she spat. "That's what you said. That nobody could touch you."
There. The tiniest crack in his facade. His jaw tightened before he smoothed it away, but she saw it.
He leaned in slowly, like a predator amused by its prey. "So you were listening."
Her mouth went dry.
"Tell me, Sierra," he whispered, his breath brushing her ear. "Why should that word frighten you? Unless you've made yourself my enemy."
The menace in his tone chilled her blood. Stay calm. Don't give him more than he already knows.
She lifted her chin. "Enemy? Is that what you call your wife now?"
For the first time, his smile cracked. "If the shoe fits."
Her stomach lurched, but she forced herself to keep her voice steady. "You disgust me."
Before she could move, he pressed a hand to the wall beside her head, boxing her in. Not touching her—never leaving a mark—but close enough that she could feel the weight of his power.
"You don't understand what you've stumbled into," he murmured. "And you'd be wise to stop digging."
Her pulse thundered. "Or what?" she whispered.
His eyes darkened, that velvet menace returning. "Or you'll find that being untouchable doesn't just apply to me."
Her stomach twisted, but before she could respond, another voice cut through the silence.
"Kolton?"
Sierra's gaze snapped to the other end of the hallway. Sarah was gliding toward them, her heels tapping like a metronome of doom. Her dress was sleek, her lipstick a bold crimson that matched the satisfaction in her smile.
Of course.
Sierra's fury surged. "Perfect timing," she said coldly. "Come to check if your little secret is safe?"
Sarah tilted her head, her expression dripping with faux concern. "Secret? Oh, Sierra. What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb." Her voice cracked under the weight of rage. "I heard you both."
Sarah's eyes glittered. "And what did you hear, exactly?"
The words echoed Kolton's, almost mocking. Sierra's hands trembled. "Enough."
Sarah's smile widened. "Careful, dear. People might start to think you're paranoid. Or worse—unstable."
The chill that slid down Sierra's spine was worse than Kolton's threats. They weren't just betraying her—they were preparing to discredit her.
Kolton's hand slid from the wall, his voice soft, deliberate. "Sierra, listen to yourself. You're making wild accusations. About your husband. About his sister. Do you realize how that sounds?"
Her laugh was hollow, jagged. "Yes, I do. It sounds insane. And that's exactly what you want, isn't it? To make me look crazy while you two... do whatever the hell it is you're doing."
Sarah stepped closer, her perfume suffocating. "You really should rest. Overwork, exhaustion—it makes women so... fragile."
Sierra's nails dug into her palms. Fragile. That was their strategy. Paint her as unstable, emotional, weak. And the worst part? It would work. To the outside world, Kolton was a devoted husband. Sarah, a loyal sister. And Sierra—the glamorous, aging actress clinging to perfection—would be the one they'd all believe had lost her mind.
"You'll ruin everything if you keep this up," Kolton warned softly.
Her breath caught. "Everything?" she echoed. "You mean the lie? The image? Or the little empire you two are building behind my back?"
His silence was answer enough.
Sarah leaned in, her smile sharp as a blade. "You should be careful, Sierra. Because in this family... enemies don't last long."
The portraits loomed overhead, the hallway closing in. For the first time, Sierra understood the truth in her bones. This wasn't just betrayal. This was danger.
And if she didn't play this carefully, she wouldn't just lose her marriage.
She'd lose everything.