Liam stood on the balcony long after Sierra had gone back inside. The wind didn't bother him. The weight of his own lies did.
The truth wasn't that he didn't remember that night in Boston. He did. Bits and pieces at first, then in full, horrifying clarity.
A flash of light. A sharp tang of something bitter in his drink. The blur of Isabelle's perfume. The heat of the hotel room.
And then waking up in that room.
But what haunted him most wasn't the drugging.
It was what he said.
He had whispered Sierra's name in that haze. Over and over. He remembered it now, like a broken prayer. Isabelle had smirked, her face flashing in and out of focus, and said something like, "She'll never forgive you for this."
And in that moment, even drugged, Liam had felt it, the knife of betrayal twisting inside him. Not toward Isabelle. Toward himself.
That morning, Sierra sat at the breakfast bar, scrolling through news articles while sipping her green smoothie. She was dressed in silk again, peach today, looking like she hadn't lost a second of sleep, though her eyes held the steel of someone who'd warred in silence all night.
Liam entered the kitchen quietly, carrying a weight heavier than shame.
"I need to talk to you," he said.
Sierra didn't look up. "I'm listening."
He moved closer and took a seat beside her. "It's about Boston."
Her eyes flicked to his, unreadable but alert.
"I remembered more about that night. I told myself I didn't. But I did. I was afraid of what remembering meant. Afraid of what it would make you think of me."
He stared at his hands. "I was drugged. That much is true. But before I blacked out, I said your name. I begged for you. I wanted you. Even in that haze, it was you. Not her."
Sierra finally set her smoothie down. Her silence dared him to keep talking.
"She mocked me for it. Said you'd never forgive me, even if I had no control. And I believed her. That fear…that shame…it kept me from saying anything. I didn't want to lose you."
Sierra blinked slowly, her face a porcelain mask.
"You could've told me," she said, voice level.
"I know. But I thought protecting you meant hiding it. Now I see how wrong that was."
She didn't respond right away. She simply stood up, moved to the kitchen sink, and rinsed her glass.
Then her phone buzzed.
A message from Mila.
Calloway's narrowed down the fixer. Wants to meet tonight. Says it's big.
Sierra turned, towel in hand. "We're not done here. But there's something I need to handle first."
Liam stood too. "Let me come with you."
She studied him. The apology in his eyes. The guilt wrapped in silence. And the sincerity buried beneath all of it.
After a beat, she gave a single nod. "Fine. But you don't speak. Not unless I ask you to."
"Deal," he said.
They arrived at a quiet speakeasy disguised as an old library in Midtown. The place was dimly lit, scattered with low booths and antique bookshelves. A jazz record spun softly in the background.
Calloway was already seated in the farthest booth, a folder on the table and a tumbler of whiskey in hand. He looked up as they approached.
"Mrs. Hayes. Mr. Hayes."
Sierra sat first. Liam followed, silent.
Calloway opened the folder. "I believe we've found our fixer."
He turned the folder to face them. A photo of a man in his late 30s. Crisp jawline. Designer suit. A smile that didn't reach the eyes.
"Travis Langston," Calloway said. "Former corporate strategist. Worked for Hayes Properties four years ago. He was fired after he attempted to blackmail the board with falsified financials. He disappeared for a while. Re-emerged six months ago…guess who he contacted first?"
Sierra's jaw clenched. "Isabelle."
Calloway nodded. "They've been working together for months. Isabelle provided the distraction…her affair and the pregnancy scandal. Langston? He's been targeting Hayes' most vulnerable financial outposts. Acquiring debt, manipulating vendors, even bribing staff."
Liam looked stunned. "He was trying to cripple us from the inside."
"And distract the CEO," Calloway said with a glance at Sierra. "You. So you wouldn't see it coming."
Sierra leaned back, absorbing it all.
"We need to act fast," she said. "If Langston's still buying leverage, he'll move soon."
"I already anticipated that," Calloway said. "That's why I brought this." He slid a second folder across the table. "Proof of funds transfers. Offshore accounts. And the names of employees he's compromised."
Sierra flipped through the pages, scanning them with surgical precision. Her eyes caught on a familiar name.
"Ellen?" she whispered. "Our financial controller?"
Liam leaned in. "She's worked for us for years."
"And yet, she's been leaking internal reports for a price," Calloway confirmed.
Sierra closed the folder, her face unreadable. "We're going to clean house."
Liam looked at her, something close to awe in his eyes.
"What's the plan?" he asked.
Sierra smiled, a cold, elegant curve of her lips.
"We play their game. We feed them false data. Set a trap. And when Langston and Isabelle walk into it, we destroy them both."
Calloway gave a grim nod. "You're ready for this."
"I was born ready," Sierra said.
She stood, pulling her coat back around her. Liam stood beside her, unsure of what had just happened but certain he was witnessing a version of his wife no one had dared awaken.
She was no longer playing defense.
She was going to war.