Chapter 82 The Return to Manhattan
Sierra reached for the suitcase handle, feeling the worn leather under her fingertips, and paused. The first task was to book a flight. She pulled out her phone, thumb hovering over the “Reserve” button on her travel app, when a sudden, vivid image of Sylvia’s smile flickered across her thoughts. It would be easier to go alone, to keep everything about the upcoming battle with Julian a closed loop, but she knew, deep down, that she needed a friend for encouragement, and she could show her the experience of a lifetime.
Instead of hitting the reservation button, she touched Sylvia’s number.
“Hey, Si,” Sylvia answered after a few rings, her voice bright, a little hesitant. “What’s up?”
Sierra inhaled, feeling the weight of the ranch’s silence settle behind her words. “I’m on my way back to Manhattan. You want to come with me? Just for a few days.”
There was a pause, and then a soft chuckle. “Sierra, you know I’m not exactly a city girl. And honestly, I don’t want you spending money on someone who can’t even afford her own lattes right now.”
Sierra smiled, a little wry in her tone. “Syl, I’m not asking you to stay forever. Think of it as an escape, a chance to experience something you’ve never experienced. I’ll cover the flight, and I have plenty of room in my apartment. I have a very uncomfortable task ahead of me, and I need someone I can trust, someone who sees the same things I do.”
“What sort of task?”
“I’ll explain on the flight. Please. Please. Please, come with me.”
A soft sigh escaped Sylvia’s lips. “Well, since you used three pleases… I’m in.”
Sierra laughed, feeling a small crack where anxiety had been. “Deal. Pack light, and I’ll pick you up for the drive to Flagstaff.”
The line went quiet, and Sierra let the phone slip back into her pocket. She moved back to the suitcase, her hands moving with purpose, each piece of clothing a silent promise that she would fight for more than just a plot of land.
She zipped the suitcase closed and stared at it for a moment, as if willing the packed items to carry more than fabric and metal. The thought of Julian’s smoldering presence rose again, unbidden. She closed her eyes, remembering the way he’d taken her onto his superyacht, the Seraphim, a floating palace. The sea had been a mirror that night, reflecting the lights of a sky that seemed too massive for anyone’s ambitions.
Sierra’s thoughts turned back to the present, to the looming confrontation with Julian over his plans to buy up the surrounding ranches like parcels of land in a Monopoly game. She could feel the weight of the talisman he’d given her in her bag, a symbol of a romantic connection that was turning into a cage.
As she was going down the stairs, she pressed the button on the tablet to book two flights to JFK: two seats, first class. Sierra slung the suitcase over her shoulder, the leather strap digging into her shoulder blade with a familiar pressure. She glanced back at the house, the wooden porch, and the fields that stretched out, waiting for a battle she knew she could not win alone. She took a moment to stare at the talisman, now peeking out from the seam of the bag, and whispered, “I’ll make this right, Julian. I’ll make this right for the people you’re trying to erase.”
She drove by Sylvia’s house to pick her up, and they started off for Flagstaff where they caught a connecting flight to Phoenix. From Phoenix, they settled in for the four and a half hour flight to New York.
Sylvia settled into the seat by the window, eager to watch the world pass by below them. After some time, her eyes turned to Sierra.
“You have the demeanor of someone who is on a mission,” Sylvia mused, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I don’t think it is just to ‘citify’ me.”
Sierra took a moment to choose her words. She pulled out the talisman and passed it to Sylvia. “Julian gave me this when we were at his villa in St. Barts. He said it would keep us together.”
Sylvia’s eyebrows rose. “Sounds… heavy.”
“It is,” Sierra admitted, her voice low. “I’m going back to Manhattan because he’s buying up land around the ranch, our friends, families who have lived here for generations. He wants to turn this into a luxury resort and some sort of tourist mecca, and it’s my fault.”
Sylvia nodded, instantly understanding. “And you’re going back to Manhattan to stop him?”
Sierra nodded, looking out at the clouds, the plane’s white belly a blur against the sky. “We spent several days in Milan and then a few more at his villa on St. Barts. Just a fling, but we had a connection. He invited me onto his yacht, the Seraphim, for a ten-day cruise back to New York. That’s when Cody called me about Daddy. We were near the Bahamas, so he called in his private jet and flew with me to Kingman. He stayed at the ranch while I sat by Daddy’s side. When Daddy died, he jetted off to Dubai.”
She paused a moment and then turned to look into Sylvia’s large, dark eyes.
“He’s a billionaire, Syl, and he can get anything he wants if he sets his mind to it. He offered me a partnership, in business and life, giving me everything I ever wanted: wealth, travel, endless parties. I loved the way he made me feel, the way he makes my skin tingle, but his possessiveness… It’s like a vine wrapping around my throat. I can’t breathe.”
Sylvia listened quietly until that very moment. “You love the luxury, but you’re also afraid of losing yourself. This trip is as much for you as it is for the land, right?”
Sierra smiled, a thin, grateful curve. “Exactly. I don’t want to be the woman who stands on the sidelines while he decides the fate of an entire community. I want to be the one who says ‘no’ and makes sure those families keep their homes.”
Sylvia’s grin widened. “So, what do you need me to do?”
Sierra laughed, the sound bright and unburdened. “I just need you to come along with me and enjoy some girl time together.”
“I can do girl time,” Sylvia laughed.
The plane began its descent into New York, the familiar skyline of Manhattan emerging through the dusk like a jagged promise. As the aircraft’s wheels kissed the tarmac, the lights of the city flickered on, reflecting off the river and the glass towers that rose like steel fingers toward the heavens.
The taxi ride to Sierra’s apartment was swift, the city’s pulse beating in every honk, every streetlight. Sylvia’s eyes were already wide with awe, wondering how so many people could fit in such a small space.
When they arrived at Sierra’s apartment building, she couldn’t believe how it reached into the heavens, and when the door to her penthouse swung open. The space was a seamless blend of contemporary elegance and soft, personal touches. Floor‑to‑ceiling windows framed an astonishing view: the Manhattan skyline, the Empire State Building, the Hudson River glittering like a ribbon of liquid silver. The city stretched endlessly, a tapestry of lights that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the heartbeats of its inhabitants.
Sylvia to the window, eyes wide, taking in the view that spread like an ocean of light. “Whoa,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft hum of the city outside.
Sierra turned, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Welcome home,” she said, closing the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed. “I’m so glad you came with me.”
Sylvia’s gaze lingered on the horizon, where the sky met the towering silhouettes. “I feel like I’m standing on the edge of something huge,” she murmured, the awe evident in her voice. “Like a queen surveying her kingdom.”
Sierra felt the electric charge of the moment. “We’re standing on the edge together,” she replied. “And we’re going to push back.”