20. Pierce
PIERCE
Carter sat across from me, reviewing the latest contract terms. I watched his pen move across the page but couldn't tell you what it said. My mind refused to focus on any of it. The words blurred together, and I gave up trying to make sense of them after the third time he had to repeat himself.
"You're not even reading this," Carter said.
"You've got it." I pushed the folder toward him. "I trust you."
He looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "Since when?"
Since twelve days ago, when my wife asked me for a divorce and I realized I'd handed her every reason to go.
I didn't say that. Carter already knew. He'd been running the company since I signed the papers and sent them back to her lawyer.
I hadn't fought it. What the hell was I supposed to fight with?
My phone buzzed on the desk.
Julia's name showed on the screen. Hannah's friend. I straightened, my stomach tightening, and picked up immediately. Julia never called me. If she was calling now, something had happened.
"Pierce." Her voice was clipped. Professional. She didn't like me much, and she'd never hidden it.
"Julia. Is Hannah?—"
"She's fine." A pause. "Physically."
My chest went tight. "What does that mean?"
"Sienna went to the school."
The name hit me like ice water. I sat forward, gripping the phone harder. "What?"
"She walked into my classroom while Hannah was there. I was standing right beside her. They talked." Julia's voice turned sharp. "Or Sienna talked, and Hannah listened."
God. I could picture it perfectly. Hannah standing there, pregnant and alone, while Sienna smiled that polite smile she used when she wanted something. My jaw clenched so hard it ached. "What did she say?"
"'Pierce and I are together.' Those were her words."
The words didn't make sense at first. I opened my mouth, closed it again, fury building in my chest like pressure I couldn't release. "We're not."
"I know that." Julia's tone stayed level. "Hannah doesn't."
My hand went to my face, rubbing at my eyes. Jesus Christ. "What else?"
"She said Hannah saw the two of you at your office, and that you told her Hannah was there. She said it wasn't just work." Julia paused. "And she said, 'He missed your prenatal appointments because he was with me.'"
The office. I remembered it now, the afternoon the front desk called to say Hannah had stopped by and left.
I'd been bent over my tablet with Sienna beside me, going over the donor event, the door open and the lights low, talking the whole time.
I never looked up. I never saw Hannah in the doorway.
I only knew she'd been there because the front desk told me, and by then she was gone.
I'd wondered why she turned around. I hadn't wondered what she saw.
Like an idiot, I'd never once asked what she saw.
"I didn't know Sienna went to the school." My voice came out flat. Cold. I wanted to put my fist through the desk. "I didn't know any of this."
"Well, now you do." Julia's voice softened slightly, just enough to let the question through. "What are you going to do about it?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. If I said it out loud, I'd have to admit what I was actually afraid of — that Hannah believed Sienna, that she thought I'd been unfaithful, that she'd spent twelve days carrying that pain alone and I hadn't known. I hadn't even asked.
"Pierce?"
"I'll handle it."
"How?"
"I don't know yet." The admission felt like pulling teeth. I ended the call before she could push further and set the phone down on the desk with more force than necessary. My hand wasn't steady.
Carter was watching me. He didn't ask. He just waited, the way he always did when I was working something out.
"Sienna told Hannah we're together," I said.
He didn't look surprised. "Are you?"
"No." The word came out hard. Definitive. "I've never touched her. Not once."
"Then why the hell does she think you have?"
"Because she built it up in her head." I stood, pacing to the window.
The city stretched out below, all glass and steel and people going about their lives like the ground wasn't falling out from under mine.
"She went to Hannah's school. Told her I've been missing appointments because I was with her.
Used some moment in my office as proof."
Carter swore under his breath. "You going to fire her?"
"Yeah."
"Good." He closed the folder he'd been holding. "Want me to do it?"
I shook my head. This was mine to fix. I'd kept Sienna close because she was good at her job, because she handled the events and the dinners and all the social logistics I didn't want to think about.
I'd seen that she wanted more, sent her away when she tried, and kept her on anyway.
I'd waved off Hannah's concerns about her the same way I waved off everything Hannah tried to tell me.
I pulled out my phone and texted Sienna. My office. Now.
The reply came within seconds. On my way.
Of course she was.
I turned back to Carter. "Give me ten minutes."
He nodded and left without another word, leaving the contracts behind. I stood there, staring at the door, trying to get my breathing under control. I wasn't cruel. I didn't want to be. But I was so furious I could barely see straight, and Sienna was about to walk in here like nothing had happened.
She knocked exactly seven minutes later. Always punctual. Always prepared.
"Come in."
Sienna stepped inside, smiling. She looked pleased to be here, like I'd called her in to plan another dinner she could stand too close at. She had a tablet tucked under one arm and a coffee in her other hand, the expensive kind she always brought me without asking.
"You wanted to see me?"
I didn't sit. I stayed standing, keeping the desk between us. "You went to Hannah's school."
The smile faltered. Just for a second. Then it came back, smooth and practiced. "I ran into her, yes. I thought I should?—"
"You told her we're together."
Sienna set the coffee down carefully. Her hands were steady. "I told her what I saw. What anyone would see."
"There's nothing to see." My voice was flat. Hard. I wasn't going to let her twist this into something it wasn't. "We've never been together, Sienna. Not once. Not ever."
"Pierce, I know you're upset, but if you'd just?—"
"You're fired."
She stopped. The color drained from her face. "What?"
"You're done. Effective immediately." I kept my voice level. Firm. I wasn't going to yell at her, wasn't going to give her anything she could use later to paint herself as the victim. "I'll have HR send the paperwork. You've got an hour to clear out your desk."
"You can't be serious." Her voice went high. Desperate. She took a step toward the desk. "I've done everything for you. The events, the dinners, the whole social calendar — it all runs because of me."
"I know."
"Then why?—"
"Because you went to my wife and told her I was unfaithful. Because you lied to her. Because you used your position here to hurt her." I met her eyes. "That's why."
Sienna set the tablet down beside the coffee. "I wasn't lying. You and I — we work well together, Pierce. Better than you and Hannah ever did. You know that. You must know that."
"We don't work together. You work for me." I paused. "Worked."
"I love you."
The words landed between us like something broken.
I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw someone I'd never actually known.
Someone who'd convinced herself a professional relationship was something more, who'd built an entire fantasy around proximity and logistics and standing too close at company events.
I felt nothing but tired.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," I said. "But it doesn't change anything. You need to leave."
"Please." Her voice cracked. She was begging now. "Don't do this. I made a mistake. I'll apologize to Hannah. I'll tell her I was wrong."
"The damage is already done."
"Then let me fix it."
"You can't." I moved toward the door, opening it. The hallway outside was empty. "I need you to go, Sienna."
She stood there, staring at me. Her face went smooth and blank. She didn't cry. She just picked up her tablet, left the coffee sitting on my desk, and walked out without another word.
I closed the door behind her.
The office felt too quiet. I sat down at my desk and stared at the coffee she'd brought, still steaming. I didn't touch it. After a minute I dumped it in the trash.
Carter came back twenty minutes later. "She's gone."
"Good."
"HR wants to know who's taking over her events."
"I don't know yet."
He raised an eyebrow. "You've got the benefit dinner in three weeks. The investor gala after that. The?—"
"I know." I did know. Sienna had reminded me of every one of them at least twice. She'd built the entire social calendar around herself, made herself indispensable, and now it was all going to fall apart because I'd finally seen what she was actually doing. "We'll figure it out."
"Or we cancel."
I looked at him. "Cancel?"
"Yeah." Carter shrugged. "Let it go. The company doesn't need another gala. You don't need another room full of people pretending to like you because you've got money."
He was right. I knew he was right. But it still felt like losing, like one more thing I'd let slip because I hadn't been paying attention.
Sienna had been holding up that entire world, and now it was gone.
The dinners. The events. The careful social choreography Hannah used to manage before Sienna took it over.
Before I let Sienna take it over, because it was easier than doing it myself.
"Cancel them," I said.
Carter nodded and left again. I stayed at my desk, staring at nothing.
Sienna had told Hannah I missed the prenatal appointments because I was with her.
She'd stood in front of my pregnant wife and said that.
And Hannah had listened, because why wouldn't she?
I'd missed every single appointment. I'd told Hannah I was busy, that work couldn't wait.
I'd handed Sienna every piece of evidence she needed to make the lie believable.
God, what had I done?
I reached into my jacket pocket. Hannah's wedding ring was there, wrapped in a white handkerchief. I unfolded the cloth and picked the ring up, turning it over in my palm. The metal was cool. Light. It felt like nothing at all.
She'd left it on the nursery shelf next to the gray elephant, and I'd kept it. I didn't know why. Maybe because throwing it away felt too final. Maybe because I wasn't ready to let go of the idea that she'd ever put it back on.
I thought about the pale blue folder I'd found on the nursery windowsill, half-hidden behind the curtain.
All those notes in her handwriting, careful and precise, laying out exactly how she wanted the room arranged.
I'd read them after she left, and it had hit me like a gut punch — she'd been planning our child's room alone.
She'd been doing all of it alone. The appointments.
The preparations. The whole terrifying, wonderful process of becoming parents.
And I'd been here, signing contracts and attending meetings and letting Sienna stand too close.
Now Sienna had gone to Hannah's school and told her I'd chosen her instead. Told her the missed appointments were because I'd been unfaithful. Told her everything Hannah had probably been afraid of since the day Sienna started calling herself my work wife.
Hannah had faced that alone, too.
I closed my fist around the ring. The edges bit into my palm.
I wanted to call her. I wanted to tell her Sienna was gone, that I'd fired her, that I'd never been unfaithful and never would be. I wanted to explain the office, the appointments, all of it. I wanted to put it right.
But I didn't. I sat there with her ring in my hand and my phone on the desk and did absolutely nothing, because what the hell was I supposed to say? Sorry my event planner told you I was sleeping with her. Sorry I gave you every reason to believe it. Sorry I wasn't there.
Sorry I still don't know how to be the husband you needed.
I folded the handkerchief back over the ring, put it back in my jacket pocket.
The work sat in front of me, untouched. Carter had left the contracts on the corner of my desk, neatly stacked and flagged with notes in his blunt handwriting. I was supposed to review them. Sign off. Make decisions about mergers and acquisitions and the hundred other things that used to matter.
I couldn't make myself care about any of it.
Sienna was gone. The social calendar was gone. And Hannah — Hannah was still out there, pregnant and alone, believing I'd betrayed her in the worst possible way.
I'd let it all happen.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.
The office was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside.
Somewhere out there, Hannah was going through her day.
Maybe she was at Julia's. Maybe she was at a doctor's appointment I didn't know about.
Maybe she was standing in front of a classroom, the way she used to before she gave it up for me.
I hoped she wasn't thinking about what Sienna said. I hoped she was angry instead of hurt, because at least anger was something she could use. Hurt just sat there, heavy and useless, the way it was sitting in my chest right now.
But I knew better. She was hurt. Of course she was hurt. Sienna had made sure of that.
And I'd handed her the knife.