30. Hannah
HANNAH
Pierce's hand was warm at the small of my back as we entered the venue for the children's hospital fundraiser.
The ballroom glittered under three enormous chandeliers, all crystal and soft gold light.
Women in evening gowns clustered near the silent auction tables, and men in tuxedos stood by the bar, drinks already in hand.
I recognized at least a dozen faces from the baby shower.
Monica Pelletier. Diane Petersen. The Harringtons.
My heart kicked against my ribs.
She would come tonight. I knew it the way you know a storm is coming, that prickle of electricity in the air before the first crack of thunder.
I smoothed my dress over my rounded belly. The fabric was navy silk, elegant but not flashy, and it did nothing to hide my pregnancy. I didn't want it to. My wedding ring caught the light as I adjusted my wrap, the band solid and sure on my finger.
Let them look.
"You all right?" Pierce asked quietly, his breath warm against my ear.
I nodded. "Just taking it in."
Sienna had been fired months ago, but she still needed work, and charity events like this one were her hunting ground.
She knew these people. She'd planned their galas and managed their fundraisers and made herself indispensable to half the room.
If she wanted to rebuild her client list, she'd come here.
And if she came here, she'd find me.
Part of me wanted to turn around and walk straight back to the car, hide in the coat check until it was over, plead exhaustion and go home. But I wouldn't. Not anymore. I'd spent too long letting Sienna make me feel small, letting her treat me like I was nobody in my own life.
Tonight, I would stand my ground.
Pierce leaned closer, his voice low. "You look beautiful, by the way."
I managed a smile. "Thank you."
He kissed my temple, his hand tightening briefly at my waist. The warmth of him steadied me, but it didn't erase the tight knot of anxiety sitting in my chest.
Across the room, Monica Pelletier was watching us. Her gaze traveled from my face to my belly, then to my left hand. She whispered something to the woman beside her, and they both looked at me with identical expressions of polite curiosity.
I lifted my chin and met Monica's eyes. She blinked, then looked away first, her cheeks flushing.
Good.
"Hannah."
Pierce's voice pulled my attention back. His jaw was tight, and there was something careful in his expression, like he was picking his words. "Carter mentioned that Sienna's been networking hard since I let her go. There's a chance she might show up tonight."
My stomach dropped, but I kept my face neutral. "Okay."
He studied me for a moment, his brow furrowed. "If she approaches you, I'll handle it. You don't have to deal with her."
Will you? I wanted to ask. Will you really handle it this time, or will you tell me I'm overreacting?
But I didn't say it. This wasn't his test to pass. It was mine. I needed to know I could face Sienna without shrinking, without needing Pierce to step in and save me. I needed to prove it to myself.
"I'm fine, Pierce," I said.
He didn't look convinced, but someone called his name from near the bar. A man in a tuxedo waved, and Pierce sighed.
"Go," I said. "I'll get some water."
He hesitated, his hand still resting on my waist. For a second I thought he might refuse, might insist on staying beside me all night like a bodyguard. But then he nodded and kissed my cheek.
"I'll be right over there if you need me."
"I know."
He squeezed my hand once, then headed toward the bar. I watched him go, my pulse still racing, then made my way to the refreshment table. The crowd parted slightly to let me through, and I felt their eyes on me. The weight of their attention pressed against my skin, but I didn't let myself shrink.
I was Pierce Langford's wife. I was carrying his child. I belonged here just as much as any of them.
I poured myself a glass of sparkling water, the bubbles rising and popping against the rim. My hands were steadier than I'd expected. I turned to survey the room, glass in hand, and forced myself to breathe.
I would face her tonight.
When Sienna came for me — and she would — I wouldn't flinch. I wouldn't stammer or flush or let her reduce me to nothing with a smile and a polite insult. I'd spent too many months being invisible in my own marriage, letting Sienna treat me like hired help in my own home.
Not again. Never again.
The ballroom was filling up now. Margaret Chen, the host, stood near the silent auction tables, greeting guests and directing them toward the displays. A string quartet played soft classical music in the corner. Waiters circulated with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
Everything was elegant. Civilized. Normal.
Then the energy in the room shifted.
It was subtle at first, just a ripple of awareness that moved through the crowd like a breeze across water. Heads turned toward the entrance. Conversations paused mid-sentence.
Sienna walked in like she owned the place.
She wore a sleek black dress that hugged every curve, her dark hair swept up in an elegant twist. Her smile was bright and confident as she scanned the crowd, and she moved with the kind of practiced grace that came from years of working rooms like this one.
She wasn't here as a guest. She was working, hunting for her next client.
My pulse kicked up hard. I set down my glass before my hand could shake.
She spotted me almost immediately. Of course she did. Her smile didn't falter, but something sharp and hungry flickered in her eyes. She started toward me, weaving through the crowd, stopping briefly to greet a couple I didn't recognize.
God, I wanted to run.
My throat went tight, and my fingers curled around the edge of the table behind me. I made myself breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I could do this. I could face her.
Sienna reached me and stopped a few feet away, her expression perfectly pleasant. "Hannah. What a surprise."
"Sienna." My voice came out steady. Small miracle.
"You look . . . well." Her gaze dropped to my belly and lingered there just a beat too long, like she was cataloging every detail. Then her eyes returned to my face. "Pregnancy suits you. Very maternal."
The words were polite. The tone was poison, all sweetness with a blade hidden underneath.
"Thank you," I said.
She tilted her head, her smile widening. "I have to say, I didn't expect to see you here tonight. These events can be so exhausting, and you must be tired all the time now." She gestured vaguely at my stomach. "It's sweet that Pierce brought you, though. He's always been considerate that way."
My chest tightened. She was doing exactly what she'd always done — treating me like I didn't belong here, like I was some burden Pierce dragged along out of obligation instead of his wife.
"I'm not tired," I said.
"Oh, of course not." Sienna laughed, light and dismissive. "You've always had such energy, haven't you? I remember how hard you worked to keep up during all those events we did together. Well, I coordinated, and you hosted. We made quite a team, didn't we?"
Heat flooded my face, but it wasn't embarrassment this time. It was anger, pure and sharp.
"That's not how I remember it," I said quietly.
"No?" She raised an eyebrow, her smile still perfectly in place. "Well, memory is such a funny thing. But I suppose it doesn't matter now." She glanced around the room, then back at me. "I'm moving on to bigger opportunities. Better clients. People who really appreciate what I bring to the table."
She paused, letting the implication hang in the air. People who aren't you.
"Though I do miss working with Pierce," she continued, her voice dropping just slightly, like we were sharing a secret.
"He and I had such a good rhythm together.
A real partnership, you know? We understood each other.
I used to say it to him, remember? 'Though I have to say, Pierce, sometimes I feel like I'm your work wife with how much time we spend together planning these things. '"
There it was.
The same line she'd used a hundred times before, always with that knowing smile, always designed to remind me that she had a place in his life I couldn't touch. That she was important to him in ways I wasn't.
My hands trembled. I pressed them flat against the table behind me, anchoring myself.
"I remember," I said.
Sienna's smile turned sharp at the edges.
"It's such a shame things ended the way they did.
But I'm sure Pierce had his reasons." She looked me up and down, her gaze deliberate.
"Thanks for hosting, Hannah. You're so good at this.
I hope you're taking good care of him, Hannah.
He works so hard. He needs someone who really understands the demands of his world. "
My jaw clenched. She was treating me like staff again, like I was an employee she was evaluating and finding lacking. Just like she'd done in my own house, over and over, until I'd started to believe her.
Sienna opened her mouth to say something else, but a voice cut through the air between us.
"That's enough."
Pierce was there, his presence solid and unmovable at my side. His hand found mine and squeezed, and the warmth of him steadied me even as my heart raced.
Sienna's smile didn't waver. If anything, it brightened. "Pierce. I was just catching up with Hannah. It's been so long since we've had a chance to talk."
"No, you weren't." His voice was cold, the kind of cold I'd only heard him use in business negotiations when someone tried to cheat him. "You were doing what you've always done. Hiding cruelty behind courtesy."
Her expression flickered, just for a second. "I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do." He didn't raise his voice, but everyone within ten feet had gone quiet. Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads turned. "You've spent months undermining my wife in her own home, treating her like she was invisible, and I didn't see it. But I see it now."
Sienna's smile was frozen now, brittle at the edges. "Pierce, I think you're misunderstanding?—"
"I'm not." He cut her off, his tone flat and final. "You're not welcome here, Sienna. Leave my wife alone."
The room felt like it was holding its breath. Sienna looked at Pierce, then at me, and I saw the calculation in her eyes. She was deciding whether to push back, whether to play the victim, whether to try one more angle to save face.
But Pierce had said his piece. He'd defended me, told Sienna to leave, and now he was waiting. He wasn't stepping in front of me. He wasn't finishing the fight for me. He was standing beside me, his hand still holding mine, his presence steady and sure.
Your turn, his silence said.
I stepped forward. Just one step, but it was enough to put me between Sienna and Pierce. My heart hammered in my chest, but my voice came out clear.
"You're not his work wife," I said. "You never were. You were an employee, Sienna. You don't have a place in his life anymore. You don't have a place in mine."
Sienna's face went white, then red. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
I wasn't finished. "I don't know what you thought you'd accomplish by coming here tonight, but it's not going to work. You can't make me feel small anymore. I won't let you."
The silence stretched. Sienna stared at me like she'd never seen me before, and maybe she hadn't. Maybe she'd only ever seen the version of me that shrank under her attention, the one who apologized for existing, the one who let her win every time.
That woman was gone.
Sienna's jaw worked for a moment, her hands clenching at her sides. Then she spun on her heel and walked away, her shoulders stiff, her steps quick and sharp. She didn't look back. She didn't stop. She pushed through the crowd and disappeared through the ballroom doors.
I exhaled slowly, my hands still shaking. The knot in my chest loosened, just a little. Pierce's arm came around me, pulling me against his side, and I let myself lean into him. He was warm and solid, and I needed that right now.
"You okay?" he murmured against my hair.
"Yeah." My voice was barely a whisper. "Yeah, I'm okay."
Around us, conversation resumed in low murmurs. I could feel people watching, feel their eyes on us, but I didn't care. I'd faced Sienna. I'd stood my ground. And I was still standing.
Margaret Chen was making her way toward us, her expression thoughtful. She stopped a few feet away and nodded to each of us in turn.
"Hannah, Pierce. I hope everything is all right?"
"It is now," Pierce said.
Margaret glanced in the direction Sienna had gone, then back at me. Her mouth curved in a small, knowing smile. "I've worked with Sienna Tatum on a few occasions. She's competent, I'll give her that. But tonight was . . . enlightening." She paused. "I don't think I'll be calling her again."
Another woman joined us, someone I recognized from the auction committee.
She had silver hair and sharp eyes, and she looked at me with something like approval.
"I heard what happened. Sienna always did have an edge to her, didn't she?
Too much ambition, not enough grace. I won't be recommending her to anyone. "
A third voice chimed in from behind me. "Same here. There are plenty of event planners in this city who don't come with that kind of drama. Life's too short to work with people like that."
I stood there, dizzy with the realization that they were all saying the same thing. Sienna had come here looking for work, looking to rebuild her client list, and instead she'd burned every bridge in the room.
Because of me.
Pierce's hand squeezed my shoulder, and I looked up at him. He was smiling, just a little, and there was something like pride in his eyes. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
Margaret said something else about the auction, and the conversation shifted to safer topics. The crowd around us dispersed slowly, drifting back to their own groups and conversations. The string quartet started a new piece. Waiters appeared with fresh trays of champagne.
But I stayed where I was, Pierce's arm around me, my wedding ring solid and sure on my finger. I could still feel the adrenaline humming under my skin, my pulse still racing from the confrontation. But underneath that was something else. Something warm and sure and unshakable.
I'd faced Sienna. I'd had the last word. And I was still standing.
Taller than she'd ever be.