Fiona's Probe

Blaire sat at the secluded corner table of the low-lit cafe, her manicured nails drumming an erratic rhythm against the dark oak wood. She seethed with anger, her mind looping over the morning's infuriating events. Sienna was back. Her presence grated on Blaire's nerves like sandpaper. Desperate for a willing ally, Blaire had called Fiona. If anyone could help her plot a fatal strike against her stepsister, it was her cunning friend. They shared a mutual hatred for Sienna that bonded them together.

The brass bell above the cafe door chimed. Fiona slipped inside. She wore an oversized beige trench coat and plain flat shoes, keeping a low profile. Beneath the drab clothing, she was hiding a newly acquired, ultra-wealthy lifestyle she couldn't let Blaire see. She slid into the booth across from Blaire, offering a practiced smile.

"You said you went away for a trip," Blaire started, leaning across the table with narrowed eyes. "Where did you go?"

Fiona shifted in her seat. She reached for the water glass, avoiding eye contact. "It was a short trip around the city for a few days. I needed a break."

"What about your shop? Aren't you going back to business anytime soon?"

"The shop isn't doing well anyway. I decided to take some time off," Fiona lied, desperate to keep Blaire in the dark about the lavish luxury she was enjoying.

Blaire rolled her eyes, too wrapped up in her own venomous frustrations to press further. "Sienna got on my mom's and my nerves today. She is back, and she acts like she owns my father's attention. Even her idiotic son knows exactly how to put on a show to make my dad happy. It makes me sick!" Blaire hissed, stirring her coffee with unnecessary force.

Fiona froze. The spoon in her hand hit the saucer with a sharp clink. The word 'son' echoed in her head like a gunshot. Panic spiked in her chest. She reached across the table, her fingers digging into Blaire's wrist.

"What did you just say?" Fiona demanded, her voice cracking. "She has a child?!"

Blaire flinched, pulling her hand back. "Yes. An illegitimate son. Why are you acting so dramatic? Are you worried she'll bring the man we set her up with that night and come after us? Relax, nothing is going to happen."

Fiona’s heart hammered against her ribs. She had to know the details right away. "What does the kid look like? How old is he?" Deep down, terror clawed at her throat. What if the child belonged to Declan? If Sienna had given birth to Declan's heir, Fiona's days of pretending to be his savior were numbered.

Blaire scoffed, taking a sip of her latte. "My dad said the kid is three and a half years old. The father is probably some random guy she got laid with when she was living abroad."

Three and a half years old.

Fiona’s racing mind hit the brakes. She did the mental math. Five years had passed since that chaotic night in Room 808. A three-and-a-half-year-old child did not align with that timeline. She exhaled a long breath, secretly heaving a massive sigh of relief. The child couldn't belong to Declan. Her fraudulent position as Declan's one-night stand remained secure.

Reassured, Fiona leaned in, her eyes flashing with a cunning glare. "You shouldn't tolerate this, Blaire. You need to drive her away from home. Kick her out of the country. Get rid of the eyesore before she takes over your father's life."

"That is what I plan to do," Blaire agreed, her eyes gleaming with malice. "She is just a phony playing smart. We need to tear her down."

As Blaire spoke, her gaze dropped to Fiona's chest. The trench coat had slipped open slightly, revealing a heavy diamond necklace resting against her collarbone. "Fiona, what brand is that? It looks beautiful."

Fiona brushed her fingers over the cool diamonds with a dismissive wave. "Oh, this? It's a cheap fake I bought from a second-hand seller."

Blaire nodded, oblivious to the truth. She had no idea the necklace was a genuine piece worth two million dollars, funded by the lavish life Fiona stole from Sienna.

Three days later, the digital clock on the bedside table read 5:12 AM.

Fiona bolted upright in her massive, king-sized bed. A blood-curdling scream ripped from her throat, echoing through the empty master bedroom of the sprawling villa. She was drenched in cold sweat, her chest heaving as she sucked in frantic gulps of air. The expensive silk sheets tangled around her legs like heavy chains.

She had just woken from a vivid, terrifying nightmare.

In the dream, Declan had discovered the truth. He found out she was a fraud. She remembered the look of absolute, chilling disgust on his face as his bodyguards dragged her out of the mansion. He ruthlessly stripped away every ounce of her luxury, tearing the diamond necklaces from her throat and throwing her designer clothes into the mud. And standing right beside him, wearing a crown of victory and laughing at her misery, was Sienna.

Fiona dragged her shaking hands down her face. She could still feel the phantom grip of the bodyguards bruising her arms. The memory of the cold mud soaking through her dress made her shiver. She looked around her lavish bedroom. The towering crystal chandelier, the custom-made furniture, the endless racks of couture clothing in her walk-in closet—she claimed all of this through one simple lie. If Sienna exposed her, Declan would take it all back. He would leave her with nothing but the clothes on her back.

Greed and terror consumed her, twisting her stomach into tight knots. She couldn't lose this life. She refused to go back to being a nobody.

Enraged by her own guilt-ridden subconscious, Fiona grabbed a silk pillow and hurled it across the room. It slammed into the floor, knocking over a decorative crystal piece.

"Why aren't you dead?!" Fiona shrieked into the empty room. "Damn you, Sienna! Why didn't you just die?!"

She paced the hardwood floor barefoot, biting her thumbnail as panic set in. A terrifying thought lodged in her brain. What if Sienna ran into Declan by chance? What if a random encounter triggered a buried memory? They had spoken that night. They had interacted in the dark. Fiona realized she couldn't sit idly by and wait for her stolen empire to crumble. She needed to know exactly how much her rival remembered about that fateful night. She had to confront Sienna face-to-face and forcefully probe her memory to ensure her own safety.

Later that morning, the sun beat down on the pavement as Sienna walked back to her car. She had just dropped Milo off at his preschool, giving him a tight hug and lingering for a second before turning toward the corporate battlefield.

She arrived at the Lumiere office building just in time for a tense, high-stakes morning meeting. Monica stood at the front of the room, tapping a marker against the whiteboard. "This product launch is critical for the company's quarter. I want fresh ideas. I want ten proposals on my desk by the end of the month, no excuses."

Sienna took diligent notes, mapping out her schedule. She knew this was her chance to cement her position at Lumiere.

When Monica finally dismissed them, the designers filed out into the hallway, murmuring among themselves. Sienna gathered her sketches and walked toward the door, her mind already shifting to the heavy workload awaiting her. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her left shoulder. Paige intentionally bumped into her hard, nearly knocking the files out of Sienna's hands.

Sienna steadied herself, gripping the folders tightly as she glared at the woman.

Paige stopped and turned around, a malicious smirk plastered across her face. "Did you hear the news, Sienna? President Hawthorne just raised the competition reward to a staggering one million." Paige took a step closer, her voice dripping with venom and unearned confidence. "You should know right now, I won't be defeated by you. That money and that title are mine."

Sienna stood frozen in the busy hallway. Stunned by the sudden provocation, the gears in her head started turning rapidly. One million dollars? The original prize was nowhere near that massive amount. She realized Declan was likely using his immense wealth to directly interfere with the design competition.

She silently bristled, her jaw clenching tight. Did he think she needed his charity? Was this his twisted way of pitying her? She gripped her files even tighter, her knuckles turning stark white. She was fiercely determined not to accept a rigged victory orchestrated by his money. She wanted to win on her own merit, not because a billionaire decided to tilt the scales in her favor.

Sienna marched back to her office, her thoughts a turbulent storm of frustration and defiance. She tossed her design files onto the desk and sank into her chair, rubbing her throbbing temples.

Before she could gather her focus and start working, her assistant, Stella, pushed the glass door open. "Miss Caldwell, you have a guest."

"A guest? Who is it?" Sienna asked, looking up in confusion.

"She is in the lounge right now," Stella replied, ushering a figure through the doorway.

Sienna watched the silhouette step into the light, and her blood instantly turned to ice.

It was Fiona.

The moment she saw the woman's face, Sienna was consumed by a blazing, acidic hatred. The deep grudge of the brutal betrayal she suffered five years ago flared to life, burning through her veins like wildfire. This was the woman who had helped orchestrate her ruin, tricking her into Room 808.

Stella closed the door quietly, leaving the two enemies alone in the room.

Sienna remained seated behind her desk. Her eyes were cold as they locked onto the intruder. "That is audacious of you to show your face here."

Fiona curled her lips upward in a sickly sweet smile, unfazed by the icy reception. She stepped further into the office, her expensive heels clicking sharply on the floor. "I heard you were working in this area. Since I happened to be nearby, I figured I should drop by to pay a visit."

"You disgust me," Sienna hissed through a clenched jaw. She gripped the edge of her desk, her knuckles popping under the strain. She was fighting an overwhelming physical urge to cross the room and slap the smug look right off Fiona's face.

Seizing the opening, Fiona smiled sinisterly. She stepped right up to Sienna’s desk, leaning down to probe the very core of Sienna's trauma. She was here for a specific reason, and she wasn't going to leave without answers.

"I disgust you?" Fiona feigned innocence before dropping her voice into a mocking, cruel sneer. "What's wrong, Sienna? Weren't you satisfied with the gigolo you slept with that night?"

Sienna’s breath hitched in her throat.

Fiona’s eyes widened with sadistic glee, locking onto Sienna to gauge every single micro-expression. "I picked the most handsome one for you. Did you like having a cheap whore pump his cock into you for cash? Was he rough enough for you?"

The crude, violent words hit Sienna like physical blows. The horrific images of that night flashed before her eyes. The darkness of Room 808. The heavy weight of the man pressing her down into the mattress. The sharp pain and the degrading helplessness. She had tried to block out the memory of that cheap transaction, determined to take the shameful truth to her grave to protect Milo. Now, Fiona was dragging the nightmare out into the broad daylight, weaponizing the trauma just to break her spirit.

"Shut up!" Sienna screamed, jumping out of her chair. She was shivering from head to toe, uncontainable anger radiating from her skin.

Fiona didn't flinch. She pressed her luck, pushing the ultimate question she had come all this way to ask. Her eyes bore into Sienna’s, searching for any sign of recognition.

"Don't tell me you still remember the man's face, Sienna," Fiona taunted, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Would you be able to recognize the man if he was standing right in front of you?"