Siena sat on the cold metal floor of the storage unit, the folder still trembling in her hands.
Every page she turned was another cut, another betrayal. Her father's handwriting, sharp and precise, laid out a strategy that made her question everything. The merger wasn't a fresh opportunity—it was a plan. Pre-planned. Manipulated. Engineered.
She wasn't a decision-maker.
She was a pawn.
And Alexander—was he the king? Or another piece?
She didn't even realize she was crying until a tear dropped onto the edge of the paper, warping the ink. She wiped her face quickly, swallowing the burn in her throat. Her phone was still in her hand, Alexander's voice echoing from their last call.
"We were set up. Both of us."
She wanted to believe him. She needed to.
But believing meant accepting that their connection, whatever fragile bond had been growing between them, hadn't been a lie.
And she didn't know if her heart could risk that right now.
The sound of footsteps pulled her out of her spiral. Fast. Unmistakable. Someone was approaching the unit.
Siena stood quickly, slipping the folder into her bag. Her breath caught in her chest.
Then a voice—calm, familiar—broke the tension.
"It's me."
Alexander.
She rushed to the door, sliding it open. Relief washed over her too fast, too suddenly, and it startled her how much she had wanted to see him.
He stepped in, eyes immediately scanning the small unit, then landing on her.
"You're shaking," he said softly.
"I found everything," she said. "Letters, documents. My father was in on it. Withers… he used him. Or maybe they used each other."
Alexander nodded. "Same here. That estate—it was like a murder board. Files, names, timelines. We were both circled in red."
Siena stared at him. "So we were never in control."
"Maybe not in the beginning," he said. "But we are now."
She wasn't sure if that was a promise or a warning.
He walked over to her, slower now, his gaze softer.
"Siena," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "You need to know something."
She didn't breathe.
"That first day you walked into Blackwood," he continued, "I didn't know who you were. Not really. And I didn't know you were the woman I'd come to… care about."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Care about?"
He chuckled under his breath. "I'm not going to pretend like I'm good at saying the right things. But I know I'm not pretending when I'm with you."
She didn't respond. She couldn't. Too many emotions were tangling inside her—hurt, hope, exhaustion, fury.
"I don't know what your father meant when he said I had to earn your trust," Alexander said. "But I do know I haven't done a great job at that. And I want to fix it."
She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. "This isn't about fixing. It's about truth. And the truth is… I don't know if I can trust you."
He nodded once. "Then let me prove it."
She didn't push him away.
But she didn't move closer either.
---
By evening, they were both back at Siena's apartment, the evidence spread across her dining table. The letters, the photos, the map Alexander had found—pieces of a puzzle that still didn't show the full picture.
Carla arrived an hour later, Reeve behind her. Both had been briefed.
"So let's sum this up," Carla said, pointing to the files. "Harold Withers orchestrated a merger between Hartline and Blackwood to secure control of both companies. Siena's father helped plan it. Alexander may have been unknowingly brought into it. And someone—possibly W.H.—is pulling strings behind the scenes to keep us from digging further."
Reeve added, "Trent Caldwell was silenced because he got too close to exposing part of the financial trail. And Dael Rhodes… he probably saw something he wasn't supposed to."
Siena sighed. "So what do we do?"
Alexander leaned forward. "We go public."
Reeve's eyes narrowed. "You sure about that?"
"We release the letters. The documents. The timeline," Alexander said. "We make it clear that we're not hiding anything. We stay ahead of the scandal instead of being buried by it."
"And if it backfires?" Carla asked.
Alexander looked at Siena. "Then we go down fighting. Together."
She met his eyes again. This time, she didn't look away.
---
The next morning, Siena stood in front of a podium, cameras flashing, reporters pushing forward with questions. She wore a sleek black suit, her hair pulled back, her expression unreadable.
Alexander stood beside her.
"This is not a statement of defense," Siena began, her voice clear and steady. "This is a statement of fact."
She laid it all out—the merger, the manipulation, the betrayal. She didn't flinch when she mentioned her father. She didn't blink when she named Harold Withers.
By the time she was done, the room was silent.
Until the questions started flying.
"Ms. Hart, are you accusing your father of conspiracy?"
"What's Blackwood Industries' role in all this?"
"Do you still support the merger?"
Siena lifted her chin. "We support transparency. And we will not be controlled by anyone hiding behind initials."
She stepped down before they could throw more at her.
As she walked past Alexander, he reached for her hand.
She let him hold it—for just a second.
---
That night, Siena found herself staring out her apartment window, watching the rain streak down the glass.
Everything had changed.
But the fight wasn't over.
She felt a presence behind her. Alexander.
"I didn't want to fall for you in the middle of all this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't answer right away.
"I didn't want to fall for you at all," she added. "But I did. And I don't know if that makes me a fool or just human."
Alexander stepped closer, his voice low. "If you're a fool, then so am I. And I don't regret a damn thing."
She turned to face him.
"I need time," she said. "Time to figure out what's real."
"I'll wait," he said. "Just tell me you won't shut me out completely."
She hesitated, then nodded once.
"No promises," she said quietly. "But maybe… maybe possibilities."