Updated Oct 1, 2025 • ~11 min read
Sienna stood outside the Cross Industries building, staring up at the gleaming tower of glass and steel that represented everything she’d been fighting against for three years.
Walking into Damon’s territory felt like volunteering for execution.
But ignoring his summons would only make things worse. Whatever he knew—or thought he knew—she needed to control the narrative before it controlled her.
She texted Lucas: Emergency meeting ran long. Don’t wait up.
His response was immediate: Everything okay? Need backup?
I’m fine. Promise.
Lie number thirty-seven. She’d lost count somewhere between “I’m just tired” and “It’s probably food poisoning.”
The elevator ride to the executive floor took an eternity. Her reflection in the mirrored walls looked pale, hollowed out. She’d lost weight everywhere except her breasts, which were tender and swollen in a way that no amount of strategic blazer-wearing could hide forever.
She was ten weeks now. The doctor said she’d start showing soon.
Time was running out.
The elevator doors opened onto a reception area that screamed wealth and power—marble floors, abstract art that probably cost more than her car, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city Damon clearly thought he owned.
“Ms. Laurent.” His assistant, a woman with severe cheekbones and a look that said she’d seen everything, gestured toward the double doors. “He’s waiting.”
Of course he was.
Sienna squared her shoulders and walked into Damon Cross’s office like she was walking into battle.
He stood with his back to her, silhouetted against the window, hands in his pockets. The posture was deceptively casual, but she knew better. Damon was never casual. Every move was calculated, every silence a weapon.
“You wanted to talk,” she said, keeping her voice level. “I’m here. Talk.”
He turned slowly, and the impact of seeing him face-to-face for the first time since that morning in his penthouse stole her breath.
Same dark eyes that had watched her come undone. Same mouth that had mapped every inch of her skin. Same hands that had—
Stop.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.
“I’ve been working.”
“You’ve been fucking my brother.”
The words landed like a slap. Sienna’s jaw tightened. “My personal life is none of your concern.”
“It is when it involves my family.” He moved closer, predatory and precise. “Lucas is in love with you. Did you know that? He told me last night. Couldn’t stop talking about this ‘amazing woman’ who’s brilliant and driven and perfect.” His eyes raked over her. “He has no idea who you really are.”
“And who am I, Damon?”
“Mine.” The word was possessive, absolute. “You were mine first, and you don’t get to erase that by climbing into my brother’s bed.”
Heat flooded her face—anger and something she refused to name. “I was never yours. We had one night. One mistake. That doesn’t give you ownership.”
“Mistake.” He laughed, sharp and bitter. “Is that what you’re calling it? Because I remember you saying my name like a prayer, Sienna. I remember every sound you made, every—”
“Stop.” Her voice cracked. “Whatever you think happened between us, it’s over. I’m with Lucas now.”
“For how long? A month?” He was in her space now, close enough that she could smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off him. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Using Lucas as some kind of shield against me?”
“I’m not using anyone. Lucas is—” She searched for the right words. “He’s good. He’s kind. He treats me like I matter.”
“And I didn’t?”
The vulnerability in his voice caught her off guard. For a moment, Damon’s armor cracked, and she saw something raw underneath—something that looked dangerously close to hurt.
But then his expression hardened again, and the moment passed.
“You need to stay away from my brother,” he said.
“You don’t get to dictate my relationships.”
“He’s going to propose.”
The floor tilted. “What?”
“Lucas. He’s going to propose.” Damon’s smile was cruel. “He showed me the ring last night. Three carats, platinum setting. He’s planning this whole romantic evening, convinced you’re his soulmate or some bullshit.” He stepped closer, voice dropping. “So I need you to end it now, before he does something we’ll all regret.”
Sienna’s mind was racing. A proposal. Lucas was going to propose, and if she said yes—when she said yes—the lie would become permanent, unbreakable.
The baby would legally be Lucas’s.
She would be safe.
“No,” she said.
“No?”
“I’m not ending it. Lucas is—” She lifted her chin, met Damon’s eyes with all the defiance she could muster. “I’m in love with him.”
The lie tasted like ash, but she forced it out anyway.
Damon went very still. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Sienna—”
“We’re done here.” She turned toward the door, desperate to escape before he saw through her, before the truth spilled out and destroyed everything. “Have a nice life, Damon. Stay out of mine.”
She made it three steps before his hand caught her wrist, spinning her back.
“Let go—”
“Not until you tell me the truth.” His eyes searched her face, frantic and furious. “What are you hiding?”
Everything. She was hiding everything—the pregnancy, the terror, the fact that his child was growing inside her while she pretended to love his brother.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“Liar.” But his grip loosened, his thumb brushing over her pulse point in a gesture so tender it made her want to scream. “You’re lying to me, to Lucas, probably to yourself. And when this all falls apart—and it will, Sienna—don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She pulled her wrist free. “Goodbye, Damon.”
This time, he let her go.
She made it to her car before the panic attack hit.
Her hands shook so badly she couldn’t get the key in the ignition. Her vision blurred. The walls of the parking garage pressed in, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t—
Her phone rang. Lucas.
She stared at his name on the screen, this man who wanted to marry her, who thought she was someone worth building a future with, who had no idea he was falling in love with a lie.
She answered. “Hey.”
“Sienna? Where are you? You sound weird.”
“I’m fine. Just—tired. Long day.”
“Come over. I’ll make dinner, we can watch that documentary you wanted to see.” His voice was so warm, so genuinely concerned. “Unless you need space?”
Space was the last thing she needed. Space meant being alone with her thoughts, with the guilt that was eating her alive from the inside out.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Perfect. Drive safe.”
She ended the call and finally got the car started, but her hands were still shaking when she pulled out of the garage.
Damon knew something was wrong. He’d always been able to read her too well, see past the armor to the vulnerable mess underneath. How long before he figured out the truth?
And what would he do when he did?
Lucas’s apartment was a sanctuary from the storm in her head—warm lighting, soft music, the smell of something delicious cooking in the kitchen.
He greeted her at the door with a kiss and a glass of sparkling water. “No wine for the lady who’s been stressed. Doctor’s orders—my orders, technically.”
If only he knew why she really wasn’t drinking.
“You’re too good to me,” she said, and meant it.
“Impossible. You deserve everything.” He pulled her into the kitchen, where he’d clearly been attempting something ambitious. “Fair warning: I may have bitten off more than I can chew with this recipe.”
She laughed, and it felt good to laugh, to pretend for a few hours that her life wasn’t a carefully constructed house of cards.
They cooked together—or rather, Lucas cooked while Sienna sat on the counter and made unhelpful suggestions. It was domestic and easy, the kind of scene she’d never imagined for herself.
The kind of scene she could get used to.
“Can I ask you something?” Lucas said, focused on whatever he was sautéing.
Her stomach dropped. “Sure.”
“Where do you see yourself in five years?”
It was such a normal question. The kind people asked on dates, in interviews, in casual conversations about the future. But for Sienna, the future was a minefield.
In five years, she’d have a four-year-old. Would that child have Damon’s intensity or Lucas’s gentleness? Would they ask about their father, believe the lie she was constructing?
“I see myself happy,” she said carefully. “Stable. Maybe even…” She trailed off.
“Even what?”
“A family. Maybe.” The words felt dangerous, like she was tempting fate. “I never thought I wanted kids, but lately I’ve been thinking about it more.”
Lucas’s whole face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. What about you?”
“I want the whole package,” he admitted. “Wife, kids, Sunday morning pancakes. I know it’s traditional, maybe boring—”
“It’s not boring.” She slid off the counter, moved to stand beside him. “It’s lovely.”
He set down the spatula, turned to face her fully. “Sienna, I know we haven’t been together long, but I need you to know—I’m all in. Whatever this is, wherever it goes, I’m committed.”
This was the moment. She could tell him the truth—that she was pregnant, that it wasn’t his, that she’d been lying since the beginning. She could give him the choice, let him walk away before things got more complicated.
But looking at his earnest face, feeling the genuine affection radiating from him, she couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t destroy the one good thing in her increasingly chaotic life.
“I’m all in too,” she whispered.
He kissed her then, slow and sweet, and she tried to ignore the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Damon, saying she was making the biggest mistake of her life.
Two weeks later, it happened.
Lucas took her to the restaurant where they’d had their first date, the one with the view of the city lights and the wine list she’d had to pretend to appreciate while ordering water.
She knew what was coming. Had known since Damon’s warning, had been preparing herself for this moment.
But when Lucas got down on one knee, when he pulled out that three-carat ring Damon had mentioned, when he asked her to marry him with such hope and love in his eyes—
She couldn’t breathe.
“Sienna Laurent,” Lucas said, voice shaking slightly, “you’ve changed my life. You make me want to be better, do better. I know it’s fast, I know we’re still learning each other, but I’ve never been more certain of anything.” He took a breath. “Will you marry me?”
The restaurant had gone quiet. People were watching, phones out, ready to capture the moment.
She thought of the baby—twelve weeks now, the size of a plum according to the app she’d downloaded. She thought of Damon’s face when he’d demanded the truth. She thought of her career, her future, all the reasons this made sense.
She thought of the lie she was about to make permanent.
“Yes,” she heard herself say. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
The restaurant erupted in applause. Lucas stood, slid the ring onto her finger—it was beautiful, delicate, exactly what she would have chosen—and kissed her like she was the answer to every question he’d ever asked.
She kissed him back and tried not to think about how wrong this felt.
How right it should feel but didn’t.
Her phone buzzed in her purse. She ignored it through dinner, through the champagne toast Lucas made with sparkling cider “to accommodate your stomach bug,” through the congratulations from strangers who thought they were witnessing a perfect love story.
It wasn’t until later, in the car on the way home, that she checked her messages.
One from Bianca: Tell me you didn’t.
One from her mother: Lucas Cross? The good twin? Sweetheart, call me.
And one from an unknown number that made her blood run cold:
Congratulations.
Just that single word, but she knew who’d sent it.
Damon.
He’d already heard. Probably from Lucas himself, probably in excruciating detail.
And that one word—congratulations—dripped with enough venom to prove that Damon Cross was far from done with her.
The war had just begun.
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