Chapter 6
Sienna‘s pov
“Mr. Blackwood！”
A rough yank hauled me to my feet, and I found myself staring into Harrison’s cold, distant face.
I couldn’t tell whether the pain was making me see things, or if I was simply so hurt that my mind had started drifting.
My nose burned, and my head felt heavy and congested. Harrison Blackwood used to be good to me; the first time they punished me, he was the one who hauled me up with one hand, just like he was doing now.Back then, he’d taken my hand and led me away as if the world couldn’t touch me.
“Harrison.” I heard myself say his name before I could stop it.
Then he spoke, and it was like cold water poured straight over my head.
“Why did you push Adrian down the stairs? Sienna, I misjudged you. Adrian isn’t just hurt—he’s terrified.”
Push Adrian down the stairs?
No wonder the Blackwoods had been so determined to punish me harshly this morning. They thought I’d hurt their heir. Elena Whitmore’s words from yesterday surfaced, and the whole thing snapped into place. It was an obvious setup. Yet what gutted me wasn’t the family’s cruelty—it was Harrison’s distrust, sharp as a slap.
I bit my lip and looked up at him. “You don’t believe me?”
It was the same face I’d loved for five years, but the suspicion in his eyes made the brief warmth I’d felt seem unreal.
“Sienna,” he said, his tone almost gentle, “are you joking?”
Something in me shifted. I stared at him, and five years of love and resentment surged up at once.
“There are cameras in the villa,” I said, forcing each word out. “I didn’t do it.”
A sneer crossed his face. “The cameras are broken, Sienna. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
Broken.
So that was it. One accusation, one convenient failure, and I was disposable. We’d been married five years, and he still couldn’t give me even the smallest benefit of the doubt. Elena was his first love. And me?
I didn’t think. I just grabbed his hand and bit down hard enough to taste blood.
He didn’t even react, only watched me with that detached stillness that made me feel ridiculous. Tears slid down my face without permission.
“Harrison,” I said, my voice breaking, “I hate you. If you think I’m guilty, then call the police.”
I turned and ran out of the Blackwood house.
I wasn’t so much running as forcing my body forward on adrenaline. Every step lit up the spots where that nail-studded stick had whipped me earlier, and my vision flickered. I barely made it outside before my lungs gave out and my legs turned to water.
I collapsed by the roadside, curled into myself, trembling. Aside from the Blackwood estate, I had nowhere to go. I’d once believed Harrison and I would build a life of our own—a real home, not a place I was only ‘allowed’ to stay.
But fantasies were still fantasies.
I called Luna Reed. “Luna. I’ll be at our old spot.”
I should’ve gone to a doctor. I knew that. But my body throbbed, and Harrison’s words still ached in my chest. I couldn’t face questions and bright lights.
So I went to the same bar as last time, ordered a strong cocktail, and downed it. The burn didn’t help. I drank another anyway, because sobriety made everything too sharp.
By the time Luna arrived, I was barely holding together.
She slid into the booth beside me. “Sienna, what happened?”
“Luna…” My voice caught. “He doesn’t believe me. He still doesn’t believe me.”
That fake pregnancy scandal from years ago flashed through my mind—ugly and jagged.
“Maybe he stopped trusting me five years ago,” I rasped, “and I was stupid enough to think we’d clear it up someday.”
“Sienna,” Luna said, steady, “you have to leave him.”
“Leave?” I laughed, and pain tore through my back. “I want to. But Victor threatened my mom’s life—just like he did when he forced her into that divorce. I can’t just walk away.”
I glanced toward the entrance. Through my blur, a man stood there in a plain white shirt and black dress pants, too neat for this place.
For a second, he looked like Harrison.
My heart kicked. I stood too fast, pain flashing through me, but anger shoved me forward. I staggered up to him until I could see his eyes—dark and steady.
In my head, they became Harrison’s. Cold. Accusing.
Something inside me fractured.
Before I could think, I slapped him hard across the face.
The sound cut through the noise. His head snapped to the side.
“Harrison, why are you here?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “Do you enjoy watching me suffer?”
Luna lunged in and seized my wrist. “Sienna, stop. You’ve got the wrong person.”
I fought her, desperate to look again, desperate to find Harrison in his face. Then the lights smeared, noise rushed in, and my knees buckled.
The floor surged up.
Everything went black.
When I opened my eyes again, it was daytime. For a few seconds, I didn’t know where I was—until an unfamiliar ceiling came into focus, along with the faint scent of clean laundry. Then the pain hit.
I pushed myself upright, careful. My head throbbed, and every breath tugged at my waist and shoulder. Someone had cleaned me up and bandaged me.
Looking at it now, it wasn’t that serious.
The Blackwood ‘family discipline’ was meant to humiliate me, not put me in a hospital. But it had worked. Even sitting still, I felt battered.
On the nightstand sat a glass of water, a few painkillers, and a note in Luna’s handwriting: Don’t move too fast. This was Luna’s place.
I drank, then stood, gripping the vanity until the room stopped swaying. In the bathroom mirror, I looked pale and swollen-eyed, with a faint bruise along my jaw.
I splashed water on my face until my thoughts steadied.
When I went back into the room, Luna stood there with a breakfast tray.
“Feeling any better?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
Luna checked my bandages, then met my eyes. “The cuts aren’t deep,” she said. “Don’t peel the tape off. And don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
I swallowed, my throat tight.
A moment later, her tone shifted. “Sienna, do you want to work?”
“What?” I stared at her.
“With the way things are with Harrison, your marriage could end any day,” she said. “You need something that’s yours. A producer friend has a new project and they’re looking for a voice actor. If you want, I can get you an audition.”
Sober, the grief didn’t vanish. It just settled. I looked at my hands—the tremor I couldn’t quite control—and reminded myself I still had choices.
“Okay,” I said softly. “Send it.”
Luna’s phone buzzed. She showed me the screen. “They just confirmed. Audition this afternoon.”
I stared at the time and address. Not hope. Direction.
In these five years, I hadn’t been only Harrison’s decoration. I’d built what I could—voice work, small contracts, a choreography account online. It wasn’t a complete life, but it was mine.
“Then get ready,” Luna said. “Eat, shower, and wear something that won’t press on your ribs. I’ll drive.”
“Okay.”
I pulled myself together slowly, working around the tightness of bandages and bruises. When we left Luna’s apartment, the sunlight was too bright. In the car, I watched the streets whip by and told myself that if my life was going to collapse, I would at least be standing.
By the time we reached the production company, my heartbeat had leveled out. The building looked newly renovated—glass walls, clean lines, a lobby that smelled like fresh paint and money. A sign by the elevator mentioned they’d recently been acquired by an overseas owner.
If I could get in with them…
At the front desk, Luna gave our names, and we were escorted upstairs. The halls were busy but controlled.
We’d barely reached the waiting area when a man walked over with director Elliot Hayes at his side. Elliot wore a polite smile.
“Hello, Ms. Reed, Ms. Price,” he said.
I nodded.
Elliot gestured to the man next to him. “Let me introduce our head, Mr. Julian Vane.”
I looked up—and felt the blood drain from my face.
Plain white shirt. Black dress pants. The same steady eyes.
Beside me, Luna went rigid.
“Luna?” I asked softly.
Her voice dropped. “Sienna. The man you hit last night was Mr. Vane.”