The name on the screen didn't make sense. It couldn't.
Siena blinked, as if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She stared harder, hoping the letters would rearrange themselves into something else.
But they didn't.
Celeste Hart.
Her mother's name. Bold, unmistakable, and terrifyingly out of place.
She looked at Halver, then at Alexander. "That's not possible," she said, her voice a fragile whisper. "She's never been involved in any of this. She's never—"
"—been part of the business," Alexander finished for her, gently. "I know."
Halver didn't speak for a long moment. Then he spun the monitor toward himself and tapped a few keys. "It's one entry. A signature tied to an encrypted authorization form used to approve a transfer. It's dated eight years ago."
Siena frowned. "Eight years ago? That's… right before I left for grad school."
"Exactly," Halver said. "And right after your father's last known offshore transfer."
Siena's fingers curled into her palms. "There has to be a mistake."
Halver didn't reply. He just turned the screen back to her.
Alexander stepped closer. "Could it have been forged?"
Halver shrugged. "Technically, yes. But this signature came with biometrics. Voice-activated encryption. It would've needed more than just handwriting. It would've required her voice pattern, at minimum."
Siena's mind was spinning. "Then… it's real."
The thought made her stomach twist.
She couldn't picture her mother tied to something like this. Celeste Hart had been a graceful presence all her life—soft-spoken, always in control, always composed. She didn't get involved in company affairs. She barely spoke of Harold Withers. After her father's death, she'd quietly stepped away from everything. She hadn't even come to the last Hartline shareholders' meeting.
And now this?
Siena looked at Alexander. "We need to talk to her."
---
Celeste Hart lived in an elegant townhouse on the outskirts of the city, far removed from the downtown chaos. It was quiet, tasteful, a perfect reflection of the woman herself.
She greeted them in a soft gray sweater, pearls resting on her collarbone, her silver-blonde hair pulled neatly into a low bun.
"Siena," she said, her smile polite. "Alexander. This is a surprise."
Siena hesitated, standing just outside the doorway. "Can we talk?"
"Of course." Celeste stepped aside and motioned them in. "Let's sit in the garden. It's cooler there."
They followed her through the house, past old photos of Siena's childhood, faded portraits of her father, and framed letters in elegant script. The garden was immaculate, with trimmed hedges, white roses, and a koi pond humming quietly in the background.
Once they were seated, Celeste poured tea for all three of them before sitting down.
"What is this about?" she asked gently.
Siena didn't touch her tea.
She looked directly at her mother. "I need to ask you something… and I need you to be honest with me."
Celeste's eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to notice. "I'll do my best."
Siena took a breath. "Eight years ago, did you sign anything connected to Ashbridge Holdings? Anything tied to offshore transfers?"
Celeste didn't blink. She didn't flinch.
She simply sat still for a moment longer than normal, and then… she set her teacup down.
"I was wondering when this would come up," she said softly.
Siena stared. "So it's true?"
Celeste gave a small nod. "Yes."
Siena's voice cracked. "Why? What were you doing?"
Celeste folded her hands on her lap. "Protecting you."
The answer came so fast, so confidently, that it didn't feel real.
Siena leaned forward, her voice rising. "From what?"
"From what your father got us into," Celeste said, still calm. "You don't know everything, Siena. You were too young. He made decisions—risky ones. He trusted the wrong people. He opened doors that shouldn't have been opened."
Alexander said quietly, "Withers?"
Celeste nodded. "And others."
Siena shook her head. "You still haven't told me what you signed."
Celeste exhaled. "After your father died, Harold came to me. He said we were weeks away from a full collapse. That if Hartline went under, it would destroy your future, your education, everything your father built. He needed my voice authorization to release certain funds—to clean things up."
"And you believed him?"
"I didn't know what else to do!" Celeste's composure finally cracked, her voice sharp. "I'd just buried my husband. You were barely twenty. The board was circling like vultures. I was alone. And Harold... he knew everything. He made it sound like he was saving us."
Siena's voice was cold now. "And now we know he wasn't."
"I know," Celeste whispered.
Alexander interjected, "Why didn't you ever tell Siena? Why keep it a secret?"
Celeste looked at her daughter. "Because I was ashamed. Because I wasn't sure what was true anymore. And because... I thought I'd done the right thing. Until now."
The silence between them was heavy.
Siena stood. "We have to fix this, Mom. We're up against something huge. And it's not just about Hartline anymore. They've targeted Alexander. His family. Everything connected to both of us."
Celeste nodded slowly. "Then tell me what you need from me."
Siena's jaw clenched. "I need the full truth. Everything you remember. Every name. Every signature. Every meeting. We're going to dismantle whatever this is, piece by piece."
Celeste's gaze didn't waver. "Then let's begin."
---
Later that night, Alexander and Siena sat on the balcony of her apartment. The city glittered below them, but Siena's thoughts were miles away.
"She was so calm," Siena murmured. "Too calm."
"She's had years to bury it," Alexander replied. "And maybe she never thought it would come back."
Siena nodded slowly. "It's strange. I'm angry. But part of me… understands."
"She thought she was protecting you."
"Maybe. Or maybe she didn't want to admit how deep it all went."
Alexander placed a hand over hers. "We'll find out. Together."
She looked at him, and for once, she allowed the weight of the day to press down. Her head tilted, resting against his shoulder.
"I don't know who to trust anymore," she whispered.
"You can trust me."
"I do. That's why I'm scared."
His fingers tightened around hers. "We've survived worse."
Siena didn't respond.
But in her silence, she knew one thing for sure:
The war they were fighting had started long before them.
And it was far from over.