Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind Sierra VaughnThe handle moved once.
Stopped.
Then moved again.
Margaret motioned for us to stay silent.
I grabbed Micah's hand.
Three seconds passed.
Five.
Then the door opened.
Sierra stepped inside.
Alone.
Her hair was disheveled.
Her gala dress was torn near the shoulder.
And she wasn't wearing the brooch anymore.
She closed the door behind her.
“Don't scream.”
Margaret immediately moved between her and Micah.
“You need to leave.”
“I know.”
Sierra looked at me.
“Claire, Brett is trying to kill the evidence.”
I stared at her.
“And you helped him.”
“Yes.”
The honesty stunned me.
Sierra swallowed.
“I didn't know how far he was going.”
“You knew about the money.”
“I knew about some money.”
“You lied.”
“I lied.”
“You slept with my husband.”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
The word landed like a blade.
But there was something different about her expression.
Not arrogance.
Not guilt alone.
Fear.
“Then why are you here?”
Sierra reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a passport.
She dropped it onto the table.
I opened it.
The picture was hers.
The name wasn't.
Sienna Dane.
I looked at Sierra.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Margaret went pale.
“Victor Dane's daughter.”
Sienna nodded.
“My real name is Sienna Dane.”
Micah whispered, “That's the guy Grandma mentioned.”
Sienna looked at him.
“Your grandmother knew about my father.”
“Did she know you?”
“She knew exactly who I was.”
I stared at her.
“What was your plan?”
“To get close to Brett.”
“And then?”
“Convince him to transfer enough company assets to a private structure controlled by my father.”
“Why?”
“Because my father wanted Holloway House.”
I felt sick.
“You destroyed my marriage for a company.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“My father destroyed your marriage.”
“What do you mean?”
Sienna's hands trembled.
“He found out Brett was in debt.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-four million.”
I closed my eyes.
Twenty-four million.
“How?”
“Real estate losses. Gambling. Private investments. Personal loans.”
Margaret looked stunned.
Sienna continued.
“My father paid off some of it.”
“Why?”
“Because Brett became dependent on him.”
She looked toward the window.
“And then my father gave him a choice.”
I waited.
“Sell.”
“What if he refused?”
“He would lose everything.”
I looked at her.
“Then why did he need to frame me?”
“Because you owned too much.”
That sentence echoed through me.
Sienna reached inside her bag again.
This time she produced a keycard.
“Brett has a second office.”
“What?”
“In the old warehouse.”
“We don't have an old warehouse.”
“You do.”
She placed a photograph on the table.
It showed an abandoned building.
Holloway House Hospitality had purchased it eight years ago.
I remembered the property.
It had been listed as inactive.
Sienna shook her head.
“It isn't inactive.”
“What happens there?”
“Money.”
“Whose?”
“Ours.”
She took a breath.
“Your company has been laundering investor funds through fake restaurant renovations for years.”
I stared at her.
“Brett?”
“Yes.”
“And my father?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel?”
“He handles the books.”
My stomach twisted.
“Why tell me now?”
Sienna looked at Micah.
“Because Brett changed the plan.”
“What plan?”
“He was supposed to take control of the company.”
She swallowed.
“Then he was supposed to marry me.”
I stared at her.
The room went silent.
“After my death?”
Sienna's eyes dropped.
“No.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“After your arrest.”
I felt cold.
“They were going to make me look guilty.”
“Yes.”
“And then Brett would divorce me publicly after the arrest.”
“Yes.”
“Then marry you.”
“Yes.”
Micah looked at me.
“Dad planned all that?”
Sienna nodded.
“And tonight was supposed to be the beginning.”
She pointed at the brooch lying on the table.
“That belonged to your grandmother because she was investigating my father long before either of us knew.”
“What did she find?”
Sienna hesitated.
“Enough to terrify him.”
She pulled another paper from her bag.
A copy of an old police report.
My grandmother's name was highlighted.
There was also a handwritten note.
Property transfer. Hidden accounts. Victor Dane. Brett Holloway.
My heart hammered.
“Why didn't Grandma tell me?”
“Because she believed anyone close to you could be compromised.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Brett?”
“Yes.”
“Then who did she trust?”
Sienna looked at Micah.
Nobody spoke.
Then Micah noticed something on the bottom of the photograph.
A number.
He stared at it.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“This number was on the key.”
I looked at Sienna.
She went pale.
“What?”
“There are only two places with that number.”
“What two?”
“The old warehouse.”
“And?”
Sienna's voice dropped.
“Your grandmother's house.”
My grandmother's house had been empty for three years.
Locked.
Untouched.
I had never gone back after her funeral.
I thought I had been avoiding memories.
Maybe I had been avoiding evidence.
A second crash came from downstairs.
Then the hotel fire alarm screamed.
Lights began flashing.
Sienna grabbed Micah's arm.
“We have to go.”
Margaret opened the door.
Smoke filled the hallway.
Not much.
But enough.
Someone had started a fire.
Someone knew where we were.
And as we ran down the emergency stairs, I heard a man's voice from the floor below.
“Find the boy.”
Micah froze.
May you like
I pulled him forward.
Because the voice belonged to Brett.
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