When you really fall for someone, they become your entire world. Everything else—the neon lights of the city, the noise of the traffic—just blurs into a soft-focus background.
Finn felt a sudden, primal surge of emotion. He reached out with those strong arms of his and hauled Sienna into a bone-crushing hug.
"I love you." He didn't need a reason. In that moment, his entire soul was locked onto her and her alone.
Sienna stood there, pinned against his chest. Her face was pressed into the heat of his shirt, and she could hear his heart thumping like a frantic drum against his ribs. He was holding her so tight her jaw bumped against his shoulder, and the sharp sting brought tears to her eyes.
Time just... stopped. Eventually, Finn pulled back—though he didn't let go of her hand for a second. As they started walking, he kept glancing down at her flushed face.
"So, what do you think? Do you want to... give it a shot? Just to see?" He gave her hand a nervous, hopeful little shake, his mouth curved into a tight grin.
Sienna looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay. Let's give it a shot."
The second the words left her mouth, Finn's eyes lit up like he'd personally turned on every light in the Manhattan skyline. He pulled her in for a heavy kiss on the cheek, then—like a total lunatic—he scooped her up bridal-style and started sprinting down Fifth Avenue. His wild, ecstatic laughter echoed off the buildings, startling tourists and sending a shockwave through the ice that had been frozen around Sienna's heart for years.
The Next Day.
Sienna went back to the Thompson house. The second she stepped into that suffocating atmosphere, she locked herself in her room.
Her younger half-sister, Mila, pushed the door open with a massive grin on her face and flopped onto the edge of the bed. "Hey, sis! You're actually home."
Sienna opened her eyes and looked at her. Her first instinct was to push her away, but she found herself craving that tiny bit of family connection, even if it was an illusion. She stayed still.
Mila kicked off her Chanel flats and crawled over to her. Sienna rolled over, instinctively pulling the silk duvet up to cover most of her sister.
"When are you heading back to school?" Sienna asked.
Mila was still in a prestigious private prep school, dealing with the nightmare of college entrance exams. Even with a silver spoon, those elite schools were high-pressure cookers. Still, Sienna knew her own path had been ten times harder.
Mila hugged Sienna, nuzzling into her. "This afternoon," she mumbled. "Dad said he's personally driving me back."
"If he's too busy, just have the driver do it," Sienna said, patting her sister's shoulder. She felt a pang of envy. Mila had a father who adored her and a mother who spoiled her. In this house, Sienna was always the glitch in the system.
"Mom hasn't been giving me any extra spending cash lately," Mila complained.
Sienna did a mental tally of her savings from the hotel. she reached into her bag, pulled out her wallet, and tucked a fifty-dollar bill into Mila's hand. "Take this. Don't tell Mom."
Mila's face lit up instantly. She hugged Sienna, and the two of them started joking around.
Their mother, Yemei, knocked on the door. When they looked up, she was standing there with a complicated, unreadable expression.
"Mila, stop bothering your sister. Come watch TV."
Mila gave her a weird look. "We're just talking, Mom."
"Out. Now. Your sister is exhausted." Yemei's tone was unusually firm—almost desperate to please.
Sienna looked at her mother, confused. "I'm not tired, Mom. I just got up early, that's all. It's fine if Mila stays."
She was floored by her mother's attitude. In this house, neither her stepfather, Zhang, nor her mother had ever gone out of their way to protect her peace like this.
Yemei forced a smile. "Nonsense, you're exhausted. Get some sleep. Mila, get out here. She can't rest with you yapping in her ear."
Even Mila caught the vibe. "Mom, what is wrong with you today? Did you skip your meds?"
Yemei glared at her younger daughter and practically dragged her out of the room. "You're getting more disrespectful by the day! I told you to leave her alone! Just wait until your father hears about this!"
The door slammed shut. Sienna sat there for a minute, suspicious, before flopping back onto the pillow. Ever since that night at the Blackwood estate, everything felt different with her mother and Zhang.
She stayed in her room to avoid the awkwardness. Her plan was simple: survive lunch, then bolt back to campus.
The Thompson house was surprisingly busy today. Zhang's oldest son—Sienna's "big brother," Zhe—was back from his Ivy League graduation. Thanks to his dad's connections, he was already working at a subsidiary of the Blackwood Group.
And he hadn't come alone. He'd brought a blonde, blue-eyed girl with him.
When they walked in, Yemei looked startled. "Oh! You didn't call to say you were coming! Good thing we have a Guest of Honor coming today and I prepped extra, or there wouldn't be a bite of fresh food in the house."
Yemei started hunting for slippers, but the only new ones were reserved for the "Big Guest."
"We're out of new ones... here, use these. Sienna wore them, but they're practically new..." Yemei pushed the shoes toward the girl and looked at Zhe. "When is your father getting home?"
Zhe didn't even give her a polite look. He had to call before coming to his own house? Ridiculous. He marched into the living room, and the girl, Mia, gave Yemei a cold look before following him.
Yemei shut the door, eyeing the girl. Mia was a full-time hire at the firm this year—top of her class and extremely arrogant. If she hadn't heard that the land under the Zhang house was about to be rezoned for a massive payout, a high-achiever like her wouldn't have given Zhe the time of day.
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
In the living room, Mia was lounging across Zhe's lap. Zhe assumed it was his dad and didn't move.
Mila stormed down the stairs and barked at her brother, "Are you deaf? Get the door!" She shot a disgusted look at Mia and ran to open it herself.
"Dad—" Mila started, but the word died in her throat. Her eyes were immediately glued to the man standing behind her father.
The girl froze at the door.
The man standing there was tall, striking, and radiated pure, high-octane power. He was wearing a bespoke, hand-tailored suit, his expression cold and distant. He carried that specific kind of boardroom authority that makes people forget how to breathe.
Mila was too young to understand real danger, but she knew one thing: this man was unlike anyone she had ever seen.
It was Julian Blackwood.