Liam couldn't sleep.
He tossed and turned in the vast king-sized bed, the space beside him cold and untouched. Every time he closed his eyes, Sierra's voice echoed in his head, icy, measured, and yet unmistakably hurt.
"To the best husband ever."
He knew that tone. It wasn't sarcasm for show, it was disappointment sharpened into a blade. A blade she'd left embedded in his conscience.
Down the hall, Sierra lay on the sofa in her private lounge, a place she rarely used unless she needed distance and clarity. Her silk robe was still draped around her as she sat in the dim light, swirling the last drops of wine in her glass. Her phone buzzed silently beside her, a notification lighting up the screen: a message from Mila.
PI says there's more. Wants to meet. Says it's about Boston. Urgent.
Sierra's eyes narrowed. Just when she thought she'd closed the chapter, a new one cracked open, threatening to expose even more shadows behind Liam's carefully curated life.
The next morning was crisp, an unusually chilly start to the season. Sierra met the private investigator, Mr. Calloway, on the rooftop bar of a quiet boutique hotel downtown. The skyline spread behind him like a warning.
He was a lean man in a slate-grey suit, his demeanour quiet but sharp. He gave a tight nod as she approached.
"Mrs. Hayes," he greeted.
"Calloway," she said. "You said there was more."
He pulled a slim USB drive from his inner coat pocket and placed it on the table between them. "This isn't just more, it's the centre of the web."
Sierra arched a brow. "Go on."
"I did a deeper dive into the hotel's security archives. Not the basic footage…they scrubbed that. But the backup servers and audio logs? Gold mine." He slid a paper over. "Turns out, the room Liam and Isabelle checked into... it wasn't in his name. And it wasn't in hers either. It was under a dummy corporation. But that's not the real bombshell."
He tapped the USB. "Inside is audio…recorded surveillance from an unlisted staff hallway. Isabelle was on a call. She admitted to drugging your husband. But there's more..., she mentioned working with someone. A fixer."
Sierra's breath hitched. "Who?"
Calloway shook his head. "Name's not mentioned. But the context is crystal clear. They planned this. The drugging, the hotel, the fake pregnancy. All of it was to shake you, break your confidence, and get leverage over Hayes Properties."
"So this wasn't just personal," Sierra muttered. "It was strategic."
Calloway nodded. "And that 'fixer'? He's not new to this game. Whoever he is, he's got money, resources, and reach."
Sierra picked up the USB drive and stared at it like it was a loaded weapon.
"What else?" she asked.
"There's more digging to do," he admitted. "But I figured you'd want this first. The audio is damning."
Sierra stood, every inch of her poised but brimming with quiet fury. "Good work, Calloway. Stay on it. Find the fixer."
He nodded once, firmly. "I'm on it."
Back at the penthouse, Liam was in his home office, the skyline glinting behind him as he reviewed site proposals. He was nursing a second coffee and trying hard to pretend his world wasn't beginning to tilt.
When Sierra entered without knocking, he looked up instantly. Her presence was commanding.
"Sierra," he said cautiously. "I was just.."
"Save it," she interrupted, cold and calm. She crossed the room in three strides and dropped the USB onto his desk. "Listen to that. All of it. Then come find me."
She turned, but just before leaving, she paused.
"You better pray you're not lying to me about everything," she said, then walked out, her heels clicking like thunder.
Liam sat frozen. The sleek USB stick glared at him from the centre of his mahogany desk. He swallowed hard, then inserted it into his laptop.
As the audio played, the colour drained from his face.
"Of course, I drugged him. Idiot passed out like a baby. And if this works, I'll be in the boardroom by next quarter. He won't even know what hit him."
"Yeah, the fixer said once Sierra breaks, I'll step in. Liam's soft. He'll cave. Then we hit Hayes where it hurts."
He paused the audio, throat dry. Isabelle's voice rang through his ears like nails on glass. It was all calculated. The pregnancy. The timing. The room.
God, he thought. I was being used.
But the worst part? He hadn't even suspected the full extent of it.
That evening, Sierra stood on the balcony, wind teasing her robe, hair fluttering as she sipped white wine from a crystal stem. The lights of the city sparkled below, but her gaze was distant, focused, calculating.
Liam joined her quietly, his face tight and drawn.
"I listened," he said after a moment.
"I know," she replied, not looking at him.
"I had no idea," he said, voice low. "I thought Isabelle was a mistake. A mess I didn't clean up fast enough. I didn't know she had an agenda."
"You should have," she murmured, her voice holding a razor edge.
"I was trying to protect you."
"No, you were trying to protect yourself," she snapped, finally turning to face him. "You wanted to delay the fallout. Delay me finding out. But in doing so, you made me a target. You made us vulnerable."
He flinched but didn't argue. "I want to fix it."
"Then tell me everything," she said, stepping closer. "Every single thing. No more silence. No more trying to handle it on your own."
He hesitated.
"Because if you don't," she continued, her voice like velvet wrapping around steel, "the next time I walk away, it won't be into another room. It will be out of your life."
He nodded slowly, knowing she meant every word.
And in the pit of his stomach, he felt the burn of the one secret still lingering, the one thing he hadn't told anyone.
The part of Boston that even Isabelle didn't know he remembered.