The flight back to New York was fourteen hours of work.
Sienna finalized the Nakamura contract edits while Dominic took calls in Japanese, then Mandarin, then English. Somewhere over Alaska, she ordered them both food. He ate without looking up from his laptop. She did the same.
They landed at JFK at 11 PM. A car waited on the tarmac. Marcus stood beside it, looking like he hadn't slept since they left.
"Chen's out," he said as Dominic approached.
Dominic didn't break stride. "When?"
"Their board voted this morning. Raymond Vance had dinner with their CEO two nights ago."
The car door closed. Marcus slid into the front. Sienna was already pulling files on her tablet—Chen Industries, the semiconductor deal they'd spent four months negotiating.
"What did Vance offer them?" Dominic asked.
"Nothing concrete. That's the problem. He just talked." Marcus handed back a folder. "Their CEO called it 'reconsidering strategic partnerships.' Translation: Vance scared him off."
Dominic flipped through the pages. His face revealed nothing, but Sienna noticed his grip on the paper. Tighter than necessary.
"Get me a meeting with Chen's CEO. This week."
"He's dodging calls."
"Then stop calling. Show up at his club, his gym, his daughter's piano recital. I don't care." Dominic closed the folder. "He doesn't get to hide from this."
Marcus nodded, typing into his phone.
Sienna added Raymond Vance to her mental list. She knew the name—everyone in their industry did. Old money, old connections, a reputation for destroying competitors through patience rather than force. He and Dominic had clashed before, but this felt escalated.
"There's something else," Marcus said.
"What?"
"Your father called the office. Twice."
Sienna kept her eyes on her tablet. In five years, she'd never heard Dominic mention his father. The man existed in archived photos and old news articles, nothing more.
"And?"
"He wants to meet. Said it's about the foundation gala."
"No."
"He said he'd keep calling."
"Let him."
The conversation ended there. Marcus turned back to the front. The car merged onto the highway, Manhattan growing larger through the windshield.
---
They dropped Dominic first.
His building rose out of Tribeca like a glass monolith, all sharp angles and cold lighting. Sienna had been inside dozens of times—retrieving documents, watering plants during long trips, dropping off dry cleaning when his housekeeper was sick. She knew which drawer he kept takeout menus in, which cabinet held the whiskey he drank after bad days.
None of that meant anything. It was her job.
"Seven AM," he said, stepping out. "Bring everything you have on Vance's movements this quarter."
"Already started."
The door closed. The car pulled away.
Marcus glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "You need food? There's a diner on the way."
"I'm fine."
"You've been running on airplane coffee for fourteen hours."
"I said I'm fine."
He shrugged and kept driving.
Sienna's phone buzzed. Her mother.
She let it ring. Texted instead: Just landed. Call you tomorrow.
The response came immediately: You work too much. When are you visiting? Your brother keeps asking about you.
Soon. I promise.
You always say soon.
Sienna pocketed the phone. Her mother lived in Jersey, forty minutes away on a good day. She hadn't visited in three months. Hadn't called in two weeks.
It wasn't intentional. Time just... disappeared. Between flights and meetings and Dominic's endless demands, the days blurred together. She'd blink and a month would be gone.
The car stopped outside her building. A converted warehouse in Brooklyn, red brick and iron railings, the kind of place that used to be cheap before the neighborhood changed.
"Get some sleep," Marcus said. "Tomorrow's going to be a mess."
"Thanks for the ride."
She grabbed her bag and headed inside.
---
Her apartment was dark and cold.
Sienna dropped her suitcase by the door, flipped on the heat, and stood in the kitchen for a long moment. The fridge held leftover Thai from last week—probably spoiled—and half a bottle of wine. The pantry had rice, some canned soup, nothing that required effort.
She poured the wine. Drank it standing at the counter.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, her brother.
Justin:mom says you're ignoring her
Sienna:i'm not ignoring her. i just landed.
Justin:she made me call to guilt trip you
Sienna:is it working?
Justin:idk is it?
She smiled despite herself. Justin was twenty-four, still figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. Last month it was music production. The month before, real estate. Their mother worried constantly. Sienna just sent money when he needed it and tried not to lecture.
Sienna:tell her i'll call tomorrow. for real this time.
Justin:she won't believe me but ok. how was japan?
Sienna:long. work stuff.
Justin:you need a vacation
Sienna:i need sleep
Justin:that too. night sis.
Sienna:night.
She finished the wine. Showered. Changed into sweats and sat on her couch with her laptop.
The Vance report wouldn't write itself.
She worked until 2 AM, pulling together meeting records, travel logs, every interaction Raymond Vance had with Ren Industries' partners in the last six months. The pattern was clear—he was circling, testing, applying pressure at every weak point he could find.
The Chen deal wasn't random. It was strategy.
Her eyes burned. The words on the screen started to blur.
She saved the file, closed the laptop, and stretched out on the couch. Her bed was ten feet away, but moving felt impossible.
Sleep came fast, heavy, dreamless.
---
Her alarm went off at 5:30.
Sienna groaned, rolled off the couch, and stumbled to the bathroom. Her reflection looked how she felt—exhausted, pale, in desperate need of coffee.
She showered, dressed, applied enough makeup to look human. Grabbed her laptop and the printed Vance report. Took the train into Manhattan because a cab would cost too much and the company car wasn't worth summoning for a twenty-minute ride.
The office was quiet when she arrived. 6:45 AM. Most people didn't show up until eight or nine.
She liked it this way. The calm before everyone else arrived, when she could work without interruption.
Her desk sat outside Dominic's office—a glass-walled corner space with views of the city skyline. She'd argued for a smaller office down the hall once, something with a door she could close. He'd refused. Said he needed her within earshot.
She didn't argue twice.
At 6:58, the elevator dinged. Dominic walked out, coffee in hand, already reading something on his phone. He passed her desk without acknowledgment and went straight into his office.
She gave him two minutes. Then followed with the report.
"Vance has been busy."
Dominic looked up. She set the folder on his desk.
"Fourteen meetings with our partners or targets in the last three months. Six of those happened in the last four weeks." She flipped to the relevant page. "He's accelerating."
Dominic scanned the document. His jaw tightened.
"The Chen CEO. Daniel Xu. What's his weakness?"
"Gambling. He lost two million in Macau last year and covered it by selling shares quietly. His board doesn't know."
"Find proof."
"I have proof. Page twelve."
He flipped to it. Read. A smile crossed his face—cold, brief, gone in a second.
"Set up a meeting. Somewhere private. Tell him I have information he'll want to see before it becomes public."
Sienna nodded. "Anything else?"
"Clear my afternoon. I need to visit someone."
"Who?"
He didn't answer. Just turned back to the report.
She took that as a dismissal and returned to her desk.