Chapter 78
Sienna's pov
Julian Vane had given him enough trouble, and dealing with it must’ve been exhausting.
And yet he still came back early.
Was it because I’d pushed him into the divorce?
The sunlight threw a hard sheen across the corridor, hiding his eyes and whatever he felt. Even the bystanders seemed to forget how to gossip; their attention shifted to Harrison Blackwood, and the hallway tightened into silence.
How was he going to treat me?
I eased back toward the threshold, ready to shut the door the second he tried to force his way in.
Catherine hesitated, then spoke anyway. “Harrison, this is about the Blackwood family’s reputation in New Haven. You have to handle it carefully. Sienna has to be brought home.”
Harrison gave a small nod and walked straight toward me, issuing an order without breaking stride. “Send Mrs. Catherine and Ms. Elena Whitmore back to the Blackwood Estate.”
“Wait—Harrison, I’ll leave with you!” Elena’s expression flickered, panic leaking through her composure.
“Go back,” Harrison said, his voice flat.
As he closed the distance, I caught the darkness tightening across his face. When his gaze landed on me, it deepened further, and my body braced as if it remembered.
I forced a polite, baffled look. “Mr. Blackwood, what’s wrong? What could possibly make you this angry?”
“Why did you have an abortion?”
The question hit so hard my thoughts stalled.
“What did you say?” My voice thinned. “What abortion?”
A cold, mocking curve tugged at his mouth. “Five years, and you still can’t be honest. You won’t even admit what you did.” His tone sharpened. “Sienna, you can hate me, but why take it out on the child?”
My anger surged, burning off any hope of staying calm. “You think I killed the baby myself? Who told you that?”
“It was clearly—”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He cut me off. “You were carrying my child. I have a right to know why you had an abortion.”
All my explanations had always been “excuses” to him. If he’d already decided what to believe, why ask at all?
Luna Reed snapped before I could. “You’re unbelievable, Harrison! A miscarriage is already devastating, and you don’t show any concern—you just blame her. Sign the divorce papers! Sienna deserves a better man!”
Her words yanked me back into the reality of the place: the hospital, my body still sore, only a week after the procedure. I shouldn’t have been arguing at all.
Harrison ignored Luna. His eyes didn’t leave my face. “Tell me the reason.”
I forced a careless shrug that didn’t match the tightness in my throat. “The child was in my body. Whether it stays or goes is my decision. Who do you think you are? When I was pregnant, you did nothing for either of us, and now you show up to interrogate me? Harrison, don’t be ridiculous.”
“You decide?” His eyes flashed. “Who do you think you are? Sienna, you schemed your way into marrying me.”
“It wasn’t me!” The words tore out before I could stop them.
Why keep swallowing it until it poisoned me? Being reasonable had never made him trust me; it had only made me hurt quietly.
So I stepped forward, grabbed his collar, and yanked him down.
Our foreheads collided with a dull impact, and my head buzzed. He was taller, broader; even with my fist twisted in his shirt, I couldn’t force him into eye level. I clung tighter anyway, glaring up at him.
“I’ve said it a thousand times. That fake pregnancy wasn’t me. If you didn’t hear it, get your ears checked. If you don’t believe it, get your brain checked. For five years I’ve been accused of something I never did, and every time we fight, you drag it back out like it’s your favorite weapon.” My voice shook with fury. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Yes, I wanted to marry you, but I would never stoop to Elena’s level and use schemes and dirty tricks. If I’d known she was your ex, I wouldn’t have looked at you twice.”
“I liked you. I married you. That was my bad judgment—but you don’t get to punish me for it. You don’t get to take advantage of my feelings for you.”
I released one hand and punched his jaw.
Pain shot up my knuckles, sharp enough to make my eyes water, but my pulse was roaring too loudly for me to care. When I tried to lift my arm again, my strength simply wasn’t there, and my other hand slipped from his collar.
Harrison had every advantage over me. If he’d wanted to dodge, I wouldn’t have landed anything.
So why hadn’t he moved?
His lip had split, blood bright against his skin. By morning, his jaw would bruise.
But he laughed—not mocking, not cruel—and his eyes held something complicated enough to unsettle me.
“You feel better now?” he asked quietly.
He wiped the blood away with his thumb. His voice wasn’t angry anymore, only lower. “Now it’s my turn to speak.”
My heart clenched. “What do you have to say?”
“If you’re this angry, how could I not?” His tone turned oddly casual. “Otherwise you’d think I’m giving you the cold shoulder.”
Then he leaned closer. “Sienna, before we got married, you were drowning in debt. Remember?”
“That was Classic Whitmore and Victor Price’s scheme!”
“Regardless of the reason,” Harrison said, each word precise, “if we hadn’t met, what would’ve happened to you?”
The corridor had emptied; the onlookers were gone, cleared out by his people. I turned—and saw Chloe Blackwood watching me, her gaze unreadable.
“A woman in debt,” Harrison continued, voice calm as a blade, “how would she repay it? You know exactly what I mean, Sienna. That’s the first thing you owe me.”