Chapter 3
The restaurant Natasha picked was a rooftop place downtown. Glass walls, white tablecloths, a wine list longer than my arm. The kind of place where people went to be seen.
She was already seated when I arrived, looking exactly the way she always did—flawless makeup, designer dress, confident posture. The posture of a woman who believed she had won permanently.
"Sienna!" She stood, kissed the air near my cheek. "You look... tired. Are you sleeping?"
"I have a five-year-old," I said evenly. "Sleep is a luxury."
She laughed. "Right. God, I don't know how you do it. I'd lose my mind."
We ordered. She talked about a gallery opening she'd attended with Victor, a vacation they were planning, a magazine that wanted to feature "their" love story.
Every word was designed to cut. In my first life, it had worked.
Now I just watched her, almost fascinated. How had I never seen the cruelty beneath the performance?
"Natasha," I said when the food came. "I need to talk to you about something serious."
Her smile flickered. "Okay..."
"I want to renegotiate my contract with Victor."
Her fork froze halfway to her mouth. "Renegotiate? What do you mean?"
"I mean the terms aren't fair. I've been hidden away for six years. I have a child he won't acknowledge. If something happened to me, Lily would have nothing."
Natasha set her fork down, slowly. Her eyes had gone calculating.
"Sienna," she said carefully, "you signed the agreement. Everything was spelled out."
"I was desperate and twenty-three. The terms were exploitative."
"That's not my problem."
"It is," I said, "if I decide to go public."
The blood drained from her face so fast it was almost satisfying.
"You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?"
"Victor would destroy you," she hissed, leaning forward. "He'd take the apartment, cut off the money, and bury you in legal fees. You'd lose custody of Lily. You'd have nothing."
I tilted my head. "That's interesting, Natasha. You seem to know a lot about what Victor would do. Almost like you've discussed this scenario with him before."
She went very still.
I smiled and picked up my glass of water. "Has he told you his contingency plan for me? I'm curious."
"Stop it." Her voice dropped. "You're being paranoid."
"Am I?" I leaned forward. "Tell me something, Natasha. When you introduced me to Victor—when you pitched this whole arrangement—did you already know you were sleeping with him? Or did that come after?"
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
I didn't need her answer. I'd already lived the truth.
"Here's what's going to happen," I continued, smooth and calm, surprising even myself. "I'm going to make copies of every document I have. The contract. The financial transfers. Photos of Lily. Medical records showing Victor as the father."
"Those records don't—"
"They exist," I said flatly. "I checked this morning. Victor was sloppy. He listed himself on the hospital intake forms when I gave birth because the insurance was under his name. He thought no one would ever look."
Her face was ashen now. She wasn't eating. She wasn't even breathing properly.
"I'm not going public yet," I said. "I'm giving you one chance. Convince Victor to add Lily to his medical coverage. Full coverage. And put three million in a trust under her name."
"He'll never—"
"Then I go to the press."
The silence between us stretched, taut and sharp.
Then Natasha did what she always did when cornered. She started crying.
"Sienna, please," she whispered, tears sliding perfectly down her cheeks. "You don't understand. He'll blame me. He'll think I leaked something. Please. I'll talk to him, but just... give me time."
Time. In my last life, I gave her time. I gave Victor time. I gave everyone time while my daughter ran out of it.
"You have one week," I said. I stood, dropped cash on the table, and walked out.
In the elevator going down, my hands were trembling. But inside my chest, something fierce and hot was burning.
I'd drawn first blood.
Now I needed to prepare for what came next. Because the moment Natasha told Victor about this lunch, he would come for me.
And when he did, I would be ready.
She was already seated when I arrived, looking exactly the way she always did—flawless makeup, designer dress, confident posture. The posture of a woman who believed she had won permanently.
"Sienna!" She stood, kissed the air near my cheek. "You look... tired. Are you sleeping?"
"I have a five-year-old," I said evenly. "Sleep is a luxury."
She laughed. "Right. God, I don't know how you do it. I'd lose my mind."
We ordered. She talked about a gallery opening she'd attended with Victor, a vacation they were planning, a magazine that wanted to feature "their" love story.
Every word was designed to cut. In my first life, it had worked.
Now I just watched her, almost fascinated. How had I never seen the cruelty beneath the performance?
"Natasha," I said when the food came. "I need to talk to you about something serious."
Her smile flickered. "Okay..."
"I want to renegotiate my contract with Victor."
Her fork froze halfway to her mouth. "Renegotiate? What do you mean?"
"I mean the terms aren't fair. I've been hidden away for six years. I have a child he won't acknowledge. If something happened to me, Lily would have nothing."
Natasha set her fork down, slowly. Her eyes had gone calculating.
"Sienna," she said carefully, "you signed the agreement. Everything was spelled out."
"I was desperate and twenty-three. The terms were exploitative."
"That's not my problem."
"It is," I said, "if I decide to go public."
The blood drained from her face so fast it was almost satisfying.
"You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?"
"Victor would destroy you," she hissed, leaning forward. "He'd take the apartment, cut off the money, and bury you in legal fees. You'd lose custody of Lily. You'd have nothing."
I tilted my head. "That's interesting, Natasha. You seem to know a lot about what Victor would do. Almost like you've discussed this scenario with him before."
She went very still.
I smiled and picked up my glass of water. "Has he told you his contingency plan for me? I'm curious."
"Stop it." Her voice dropped. "You're being paranoid."
"Am I?" I leaned forward. "Tell me something, Natasha. When you introduced me to Victor—when you pitched this whole arrangement—did you already know you were sleeping with him? Or did that come after?"
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
I didn't need her answer. I'd already lived the truth.
"Here's what's going to happen," I continued, smooth and calm, surprising even myself. "I'm going to make copies of every document I have. The contract. The financial transfers. Photos of Lily. Medical records showing Victor as the father."
"Those records don't—"
"They exist," I said flatly. "I checked this morning. Victor was sloppy. He listed himself on the hospital intake forms when I gave birth because the insurance was under his name. He thought no one would ever look."
Her face was ashen now. She wasn't eating. She wasn't even breathing properly.
"I'm not going public yet," I said. "I'm giving you one chance. Convince Victor to add Lily to his medical coverage. Full coverage. And put three million in a trust under her name."
"He'll never—"
"Then I go to the press."
The silence between us stretched, taut and sharp.
Then Natasha did what she always did when cornered. She started crying.
"Sienna, please," she whispered, tears sliding perfectly down her cheeks. "You don't understand. He'll blame me. He'll think I leaked something. Please. I'll talk to him, but just... give me time."
Time. In my last life, I gave her time. I gave Victor time. I gave everyone time while my daughter ran out of it.
"You have one week," I said. I stood, dropped cash on the table, and walked out.
In the elevator going down, my hands were trembling. But inside my chest, something fierce and hot was burning.
I'd drawn first blood.
Now I needed to prepare for what came next. Because the moment Natasha told Victor about this lunch, he would come for me.
And when he did, I would be ready.