Updated Oct 25, 2025 • ~11 min read
Sienna didn’t see Lucas for a week after that phone call.
He didn’t respond to texts. Didn’t answer calls. His assistant politely informed her that Mr. Cross was unavailable whenever she tried to reach him at work.
He’d erected walls made of ice and silence, and Sienna was left on the outside, drowning in guilt.
“He needs time,” Damon said one morning over breakfast in his kitchen—a routine they’d fallen into with alarming ease. “He’s processing.”
“He’s shutting down.” Sienna pushed eggs around her plate. “I’ve destroyed him, and now he won’t even let me apologize.”
“Would an apology change anything?”
“No. But it might—” She stopped. “I don’t know. Make me feel less like a monster?”
Damon reached across the table, covered her hand with his. “You’re not a monster. You made choices in an impossible situation.”
“Choices that hurt your brother.”
“Yes. They did.” He didn’t sugarcoat it, which she appreciated. “But staying with him out of guilt would have hurt him more. Eventually, he would have figured it out. The resentment, the lie—it would have poisoned everything.”
She knew he was right. Didn’t make it easier.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: Coffee. Riverside Café. 10 AM. Don’t bring my brother. —L
Her heart stopped. “Lucas wants to meet.”
Damon’s expression tightened. “When?”
“This morning. He specifically said not to bring you.”
“I don’t like you meeting him alone. Not when he’s this angry.”
“He’s not going to hurt me, Damon. He’s heartbroken, not dangerous.”
“Heartbreak makes people unpredictable.”
“I have to do this. I owe him that much.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
But as she drove to the café an hour later, seventeen weeks pregnant and terrified, she wasn’t sure she believed her own promise.
Lucas sat at a corner table, coffee untouched, staring out the window like he was seeing nothing at all.
He’d lost weight. The easy warmth that had made him so different from Damon was gone, replaced by something harder, colder.
He looked like his brother now.
“Lucas.” Sienna slid into the seat across from him.
He didn’t look at her. “You came.”
“Of course I came. I’ve been trying to reach you for—”
“A week. I know.” Finally, he turned, and the emptiness in his eyes made her chest ache. “I needed time to think. To figure out what I wanted to say to you.”
“I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t.” His voice was flat. “I don’t want your apologies. I want answers.”
“Okay. Anything.”
“When?” he asked. “When did you sleep with Damon?”
She’d prepared for this question, had rehearsed the answer in her head a dozen times. But sitting across from him, seeing the pain in his face, the words stuck in her throat.
“The gala,” she finally said. “Four months ago. The Cross Industries benefit.”
“Before we even met for coffee.”
“Yes.”
“And you got pregnant that night.”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly, processing. “Did you know? When I asked you out, when we started dating—did you know you were pregnant with his baby?”
“No. Not at first. By the time I found out, we were already—” She stopped. “I should have told you then. I know that. But I was scared, and you were so good to me, and I thought—”
“You thought you could pass it off as mine.”
The accusation hung between them.
“I thought I could make it work,” she said quietly. “I thought if I just tried hard enough, if I loved you enough—”
“But you didn’t love me.” Not a question. A statement of fact. “You never did.”
“Lucas—”
“Tell me the truth, Sienna. For once in this entire disaster, just tell me the truth. Did you ever love me, or was I always just a convenient solution to an inconvenient problem?”
She wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him she’d loved him desperately, that her feelings had been real even if the foundation was rotten.
But she owed him honesty. Finally.
“I cared about you,” she said. “I do care about you. You’re kind and generous and everything I thought I should want. But love?” She swallowed hard. “No. I don’t think I ever loved you the way you deserved.”
He flinched like she’d slapped him. “At least you’re honest now.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Stop apologizing.” His hand tightened around his coffee cup. “I don’t want your sorry. I want to understand how you could do this. How you could look me in the eye every day, wear my ring, plan a wedding—knowing the entire time that you were lying.”
“I was trying to protect—”
“Yourself. You were trying to protect yourself.” His voice rose slightly. “Not me, not my feelings. Definitely not the truth. Just your own ass, your career, your convenient little fiction.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” He leaned forward. “You used me, Sienna. Used my feelings, my family, my name. And when it all fell apart, when you had to choose—you didn’t even hesitate. You chose him.”
“It wasn’t that simple—”
“It was exactly that simple. I called you at three in the morning, heartbroken, needing to talk—and you were at his place. Not even a full week after everything imploded, and you were already in his bed.”
“I wasn’t in his bed. I was in his guest room.”
“Does it matter?” His laugh was bitter. “You were with him. That’s all I needed to know.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything they’d lost.
“What do you want from me?” Sienna asked finally. “You asked me here—what is it you want?”
Lucas pulled an envelope from his jacket, slid it across the table. “I need you to sign these.”
Her hands trembled as she opened it. Legal documents. Dense paragraphs of legalese.
“What is this?”
“Termination of employment. You’re fired, effective immediately.” His voice was emotionless. “You’ll receive two months severance, your benefits will continue through the end of the year, and I’ll provide a neutral reference if requested.”
The words hit like physical blows. “You’re firing me?”
“I can’t work with you, Sienna. I can’t see you every day, watch you with my brother, pretend everything’s professional when you destroyed my life.”
“Lucas, please—”
“It’s already done. HR has been notified. Security will pack your office today.” He stood. “Sign the papers. Mail them back. And please—do us both a favor and stay away from me.”
“Wait.” She grabbed his wrist. “You don’t have to do this. We can find a way to work together, to—”
“To what? Be friends?” He pulled away. “You’re carrying my brother’s baby. You’re presumably in a relationship with him now. There’s no version of this where we maintain any kind of connection.”
“But the company—”
“Will survive without you. I’ll hire someone else, someone I can trust, someone who won’t lie to my face for months.” He grabbed his coat. “Goodbye, Sienna. I truly hope you and Damon are happy together. God knows you’ve both earned each other.”
“Lucas, please—”
But he was already walking away, and this time, she knew better than to follow.
She sat alone at the table, termination papers in hand, and felt her carefully rebuilt world collapse again.
Damon found her in the café parking lot an hour later, sitting in her car, staring at nothing.
“Hey.” He slid into the passenger seat. “You weren’t answering your phone. I got worried.”
“He fired me.” Her voice was hollow. “Lucas fired me.”
Damon’s jaw tightened. “He can’t do that. I’ll talk to him—”
“Don’t. He has every right. I lied to him, used him, broke his heart. Firing me is the least he’s entitled to.”
“Sienna—”
“I have no job, Damon. No income. I’m almost five months pregnant, and I just lost everything I’ve been working toward.” She laughed, sharp and painful. “At least I’m consistent. Every choice I make destroys something.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? I destroyed Lucas. Destroyed your relationship with your brother. Now I’ve destroyed my own career.” She turned to him. “What’s next? What else can I possibly ruin?”
“Stop.” He grabbed her face, made her look at him. “You didn’t destroy anything that wasn’t already fragile. Lucas and I have been on borrowed time for years. Your job—you’re brilliant. You’ll find something better. And me?” His thumb brushed her cheek. “You didn’t destroy me. You made me better.”
“How can you say that? I’ve brought nothing but chaos into your life.”
“Good. I was getting bored anyway.” His smile was soft. “Sienna, listen to me. Yes, things are messy right now. Yes, Lucas is hurt and angry. But we’ll get through this. Together.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I believe it. Because I’m choosing to believe in us instead of the disaster.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Come home with me. Let me take care of you until we figure out the next step.”
“I can’t just move in with you—”
“Why not? You’re having my baby. We’re trying this relationship thing. Makes sense to actually be in the same place.”
“It’s too fast.”
“Says the woman who got engaged after six weeks of dating.” His tone was gentle, teasing. “At least we have chemistry and honesty going for us.”
Despite everything, she almost smiled. “This is insane.”
“Probably. But what’s the alternative? You go back to your apartment, spiral alone, convince yourself you’re a terrible person?”
“I am a terrible person.”
“You’re a person who made mistakes. There’s a difference.” He kissed her forehead. “Let me help. Please. Let me be on your side for once instead of working against you.”
She was so tired of fighting. Tired of being strong, of holding everything together when it was all falling apart anyway.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll come home with you.”
“Good. We’ll grab your stuff, bring it to the penthouse. You can have your own room if you want space—”
“I don’t want space.” The admission surprised her. “I want—” She stopped, unsure how to articulate what she needed.
“Want what?”
“To not be alone. To feel safe. To stop carrying everything by myself.” Her voice cracked. “I want you, Damon. Even though it’s messy and complicated and probably a mistake—I want you.”
His kiss was answer enough.
They spent the afternoon moving her essentials to his place—clothes, toiletries, the ultrasound pictures she’d been hiding in her nightstand drawer.
Damon gave her the guest room but left his door open. An invitation, not a demand.
That night, she lay in the expensive sheets and tried to imagine a future where this worked. Where she and Damon built something real, where Lucas eventually forgave them, where their son grew up knowing he was wanted despite the chaos of his origin.
It seemed impossible.
But then again, so had everything else about the last four months.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Lucas’s mother: We need to talk. Lunch tomorrow. The club. Don’t bring Damon.
Her stomach dropped.
Round two was coming, and something told her Lucas’s mother would be far less forgiving than her son.
She texted Damon, who was still up working in his office: Your mother wants to see me.
His response was immediate: I’m coming with you.
She specifically said not to bring you.
I don’t care. You’re not facing her alone.
A week ago, she would have argued. Would have insisted on handling it herself, maintaining some semblance of independence.
Now, she just texted back: Okay. Together.
Always. Now get some sleep. You and the baby need rest.
She smiled despite everything, set her phone aside, and closed her eyes.
But sleep didn’t come easily.
Because somewhere across town, Lucas was probably lying awake too, hating her, hating his brother, hating the situation that had destroyed what could have been something beautiful.
“Are you keeping something from me, Sienna?” he’d asked weeks ago, sensing the lie beneath her smile.
She’d denied it then.
Kept denying it until denial was impossible.
And now they were all paying the price.
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