Chapter 7 - The Unholy AllianceThe private dining room of a high-end downtown hotel was quiet, lit by amber wall sconces that cast long shadows across the velvet booth.
Sienna walked in looking fragile, her designer handbag clutched tightly in her hands. Ever since the PR scandal broke and Julian was stripped of his wealth, Sienna had been abandoned by her high-society friends, her baby’s birth certificate lacking a recognized, solvent father.
When she saw me sitting at the table, sipping green tea with absolute composure, she hesitated, her face flushing with a mixture of shame and defensive pride.
"Clara," Sienna murmured stiffly, sitting across from me without being invited. "What kind of sick game are you playing? Did you bring me here to gloat?"
"Gloat? No, Sienna. I don't waste energy on petty gloating," I replied evenly, sliding a manila envelope across the polished wood table toward her. "I brought you here because you deserve to know the truth about the monster you defended."
Sienna frowned, eyeing the envelope suspiciously. "What is that?"
"Open it," I said softly.
With trembling fingers, Sienna pulled out the contents: bank records, transcribed emails from five years ago, and legally sworn affidavits from former college associates detailing how Julian had forged documents to tear them apart, all so he could secure my family fortune and social standing.
As Sienna read through the pages, her breath hitched. Her face went from pale to ghostly white, her eyes widening in horror as the romantic illusion she had clung to for half a decade shattered into dust.
"No... no, this isn't true," she whispered, shaking her head frantically. "Julian loved me. He told me every day that you trapped him—"
"He lied to you, Sienna, just like he lied to me," I interrupted, my voice cutting through her denial like a scalpel. "You were never his true love. You were just his backup plan, his safety net, and his convenient PR prop when he needed to stage a miraculous baby announcement."
Sienna dropped the papers onto the table, covering her face with her hands as silent, bitter tears streamed down her fingers. The realization that she had been used as a pawn by the man she sacrificed everything for was a devastating blow.
When she finally looked up, the blind adoration in her eyes was completely gone, replaced by a cold, venomous hatred.
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"What do you want, Clara?" she asked, her voice hard and brittle.
"I don't want your pity, and I don't want your apologies," I replied, leaning forward, resting my chin on my interlocked fingers. "I want to finish him. And you are the only one who can help me set the final trap."
