Chapter 10
He looked destroyed. Wrinkled suit, bloodshot eyes, hands shaking. Good.
"You ruined me," he said from the doorstep. "In one day. Everything I built."
I stood in the doorway, blocking him. "Everything you STOLE."
"It wasn't stealing—I earned that position—"
"You earned NOTHING. My mother gave it to you. And you used it to rob us."
He slammed his fist against the doorframe. I didn't flinch.
"Mara, listen to me." His voice dropped, desperate. "Hale made me do it. He approached me—said if I didn't cooperate, he'd destroy me. He had things on me from before we met—debts, mistakes. I didn't have a choice."
"You had a choice every single day for fourteen months."
"I was TRAPPED—"
"So was I!" My voice cracked for the first time. "Trapped in a marriage with a man who was plotting against my family. Sleeping beside someone who was selling us out. You want to talk about being trapped?"
He reached for me. I stepped back.
"The SEC is going to subpoena you," I said coldly. "Steven says you should get a lawyer. A real one. Not whatever Richard Hale provides."
"Mara—"
"Don't come here again. We're done."
I closed the door. Leaned against it. Slid to the floor.
And finally—FINALLY—let myself cry.
Not for him. For the woman I was three years ago who walked down an aisle believing in something beautiful. She deserved to be mourned.
My phone rang. Diana.
"We have a problem," she said.
I wiped my face. "What now?"
"Sienna's gone. Her sister called—said she packed a bag and left two hours ago. No note. Phone's off."
My stomach dropped. "Hale got to her."
"That's my fear. If he's bringing her back under his control, he could flip the narrative. Say she was coerced into giving us those messages. Say we manipulated a vulnerable pregnant woman."
"Can he do that?"
"With the right lawyers? He can try."
I stood up, mind racing. Sienna was our key witness. Without her, the messages were just data on a phone—potentially challenged as stolen, fabricated, inadmissible.
"Find her," I said.
"Already looking. But Mara—if Hale's hiding her, this could take days we don't have."
I thought about the woman on that couch. The tears. The hand on her stomach. The quiet certainty when she said: *He cut me off a long time ago.*
"She didn't go with him willingly," I said. "I know she didn't."
"How can you be sure?"
Because I saw her eyes when she talked about her father. The same way I now looked at Nolan—with the clarity of someone who finally sees the cage they've been living in.
"Find her, Diana. Whatever it takes."
"I'll call you in an hour."
I hung up and paced my apartment. The WSJ article was everywhere now—trending, shared, discussed. My phone flooded with messages from people I hadn't spoken to in years. Reporters, friends, vultures.
And one message from an unknown number:
*I'm safe. Don't look for me. I need time. — S*
Sienna.
I tried to call it. Dead.
Was it really her? Or Hale, buying time?
I forwarded it to Diana. Then I poured a whiskey—my mother's brand—and stared out at the city.
Somewhere out there, Sienna was either free or captured. The SEC was building a case. Hale was scrambling. And Nolan was unraveling.
All the pieces were in motion.
But one thing still gnawed at me. One detail I'd overlooked in the chaos.
Nolan said Hale "approached him." That Hale had "things on him from before we met."
What things?
What had my husband been before I gave him my name?
I picked up my phone and called Diana back.
"One more thing. Nolan's background—before me. Before my mother's investigation. Go deeper. Way deeper."
"How deep?"
"I want to know who he was at twenty. At eighteen. Every name, every address, every secret." I took a breath. "Because Richard Hale knew something we didn't. And that's how he got his hooks in."
"I'll need seventy-two hours."
"You have twenty-four."
"You ruined me," he said from the doorstep. "In one day. Everything I built."
I stood in the doorway, blocking him. "Everything you STOLE."
"It wasn't stealing—I earned that position—"
"You earned NOTHING. My mother gave it to you. And you used it to rob us."
He slammed his fist against the doorframe. I didn't flinch.
"Mara, listen to me." His voice dropped, desperate. "Hale made me do it. He approached me—said if I didn't cooperate, he'd destroy me. He had things on me from before we met—debts, mistakes. I didn't have a choice."
"You had a choice every single day for fourteen months."
"I was TRAPPED—"
"So was I!" My voice cracked for the first time. "Trapped in a marriage with a man who was plotting against my family. Sleeping beside someone who was selling us out. You want to talk about being trapped?"
He reached for me. I stepped back.
"The SEC is going to subpoena you," I said coldly. "Steven says you should get a lawyer. A real one. Not whatever Richard Hale provides."
"Mara—"
"Don't come here again. We're done."
I closed the door. Leaned against it. Slid to the floor.
And finally—FINALLY—let myself cry.
Not for him. For the woman I was three years ago who walked down an aisle believing in something beautiful. She deserved to be mourned.
My phone rang. Diana.
"We have a problem," she said.
I wiped my face. "What now?"
"Sienna's gone. Her sister called—said she packed a bag and left two hours ago. No note. Phone's off."
My stomach dropped. "Hale got to her."
"That's my fear. If he's bringing her back under his control, he could flip the narrative. Say she was coerced into giving us those messages. Say we manipulated a vulnerable pregnant woman."
"Can he do that?"
"With the right lawyers? He can try."
I stood up, mind racing. Sienna was our key witness. Without her, the messages were just data on a phone—potentially challenged as stolen, fabricated, inadmissible.
"Find her," I said.
"Already looking. But Mara—if Hale's hiding her, this could take days we don't have."
I thought about the woman on that couch. The tears. The hand on her stomach. The quiet certainty when she said: *He cut me off a long time ago.*
"She didn't go with him willingly," I said. "I know she didn't."
"How can you be sure?"
Because I saw her eyes when she talked about her father. The same way I now looked at Nolan—with the clarity of someone who finally sees the cage they've been living in.
"Find her, Diana. Whatever it takes."
"I'll call you in an hour."
I hung up and paced my apartment. The WSJ article was everywhere now—trending, shared, discussed. My phone flooded with messages from people I hadn't spoken to in years. Reporters, friends, vultures.
And one message from an unknown number:
*I'm safe. Don't look for me. I need time. — S*
Sienna.
I tried to call it. Dead.
Was it really her? Or Hale, buying time?
I forwarded it to Diana. Then I poured a whiskey—my mother's brand—and stared out at the city.
Somewhere out there, Sienna was either free or captured. The SEC was building a case. Hale was scrambling. And Nolan was unraveling.
All the pieces were in motion.
But one thing still gnawed at me. One detail I'd overlooked in the chaos.
Nolan said Hale "approached him." That Hale had "things on him from before we met."
What things?
What had my husband been before I gave him my name?
I picked up my phone and called Diana back.
"One more thing. Nolan's background—before me. Before my mother's investigation. Go deeper. Way deeper."
"How deep?"
"I want to know who he was at twenty. At eighteen. Every name, every address, every secret." I took a breath. "Because Richard Hale knew something we didn't. And that's how he got his hooks in."
"I'll need seventy-two hours."
"You have twenty-four."