Sienna's Rage

"Get out of my face! I am sick of looking at you!" Sienna’s voice tore through the tense, heavy air of the office, her finger pointing rigidly at the open door. Her whole body shook with an explosive rage that threatened to snap her bones. The sheer audacity of this woman standing in her sanctuary was suffocating.

Fiona merely tilted her head, a sadistic sneer curling her glossed lips. She crossed her arms, savoring the raw, palpable agony radiating from the woman across the desk. "What's the matter, Sienna? Did the gigolo not please you enough? Was he not strong and fit enough for your tastes?" She clicked her tongue, stepping closer, her expensive heels tapping a mocking rhythm against the floor. "You better learn some manners before everyone in this building finds out about your filthy little secret. If word gets out that you let some cheap whore pump his cock into you for a handful of cash, I wonder how you expect to move forward in your pristine career. Who would hire a designer with a scandal like that trailing behind her?"

Sienna’s chest heaved, her vision swimming with red. Her hand shot out, slamming the button on her intercom. "Stella. In here. Now."

Seconds later, her assistant hurried through the door, eyes darting nervously between the two women.

Sienna kept her lethal glare pinned on Fiona's smug face. "She is not a guest. Escort her out of the building this instant."

"Who says I'm not?" Fiona scoffed, tossing her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. She adjusted her posture, acting incredibly haughty. "I came here as a legitimate client. I wanted to engage your bespoke jewelry design services."

Sienna’s sharp, professional eyes dropped to Fiona's collarbone. The office lighting caught the glittering, intricate stones resting against her skin. Sienna’s breath hitched, her pupils narrowing into dangerous slits. The piece was eerily familiar. It was either her very own custom-made masterpiece or a blatant, shameless counterfeit designed to mock her craft. The absolute audacity of this woman wearing it inside her own domain made Sienna's blood boil to dangerous levels.

"You have five seconds to get out of my sight before I truly lose my temper," Sienna warned, her voice dropping to a dark, lethal register. "Leave."

Fiona’s smug expression darkened into something vindictive. She bared her teeth, spinning on her heels and aggressively yanking the office door wide open. "I'm going straight to your manager about this atrocious attitude. I will make sure you are fired by the end of the day!"

Fiona stormed out of the private office and straight into the bustling Lumiere open workspace, her footsteps heavy and deliberate. Stella followed, frantic and pale.

"Miss Caldwell, please!" Stella pleaded, gesturing wildly for Sienna to intervene as she stepped out of the office. "She can't file a formal complaint! You have to stop her before this escalates!"

Fiona didn't waste a single second. She planted herself directly in the middle of the workspace floor, raising her voice to an obnoxious, piercing pitch that instantly halted all typing and idle chatter. "I want to see the manager! Now! I want to file a formal complaint against your atrocious designer, Sienna! I come here to hire her as a paying client, and she rudely dismisses me and tells me to get out of her face!"

Colleagues peeked over their monitors, watching the escalating madness unfold in stunned silence. Some whispered, treating the chaotic scene like an afternoon show.

Sienna stepped forward, taking a deep, shuddering breath. The bitter, agonizing memories of the drugging, the betrayal, and the crushing weight of the unknown man in Room 808 five years ago surged to the surface. She remembered the suffocating darkness of that hotel room, the sheer panic of being pinned down, the sharp pain, and the degrading helplessness of the brutal transaction she was forced to endure. It was a torrential flood of trauma that shattered the final, fragile wall of her professional restraint. She had tried so hard to bury that nightmare, to take the shameful truth to her grave to protect Milo. Now, Fiona was parading it in broad daylight, weaponizing her deepest trauma just to break her spirit. She was done playing the victim.

Ignoring the potential catastrophic cost to her job, Sienna marched directly up to Fiona.

"What do you want?" Sienna demanded, her voice deceptively low but vibrating with lethal intent.

"What do I want?" Fiona leaned in, her sinister nature fully unmasked for the office to see. "I want you thrown out of this company on your ass!"

Something inside Sienna finally snapped. A violent catharsis washed over her. Without a fraction of hesitation, she raised her hand high into the air and swung with every ounce of pent-up hatred in her body.

The resounding, brutal crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed sharply across the quiet workspace. Sienna delivered a punishing slap directly across Fiona’s cheek. The intense force of the blow whipped Fiona's head violently to the side.

Fiona shrieked in shock, her knees buckling as she collapsed onto the carpeted floor in an Oscar-worthy display of staged, exaggerated pain. "Ah! I'm your client, Sienna!"

Loud gasps ripped through the surrounding bystanders. A sheer, paralyzed shock gripped the office. Everyone stared in wide-eyed horror. Had she lost her mind? Where did she get the guts to strike a client so viciously in the middle of the floor?

Sienna ignored their staring eyes and horrified whispers. Her burning gaze zeroed back in on the glittering necklace resting against Fiona’s throat. It was a disgusting, offensive eyesore. Sparing absolutely no thought for the piece's multi-million dollar authenticity, Sienna lunged forward. She crouched over Fiona and dug her fingers fiercely into the precious metal, forcefully trying to tear the stolen luxury straight off her neck. The thick chain dug into Fiona's skin as Sienna pulled without mercy.

"Ah!" Fiona screamed, sheer panic flashing in her eyes as the chain pulled taut, threatening to snap. She desperately clawed at Sienna’s hands, fighting back with vicious intensity to protect her favorite stolen prize. She dug her manicured nails into Sienna's wrists, leaving angry red crescent moons on her skin, refusing to let her destroy the multi-million dollar piece. The sound of their heavy breathing and the scuffling of expensive heels against the carpet filled the tense silence of the workspace.

Their chaotic, thrashing struggle was violently halted by a deep, commanding voice echoing from the nearby elevator banks.

"Stop, Sienna!"

Sienna froze, her fingers still tangled in the diamond chain. Fiona gasped, clutching her stinging cheek as she looked up, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Declan Hawthorne strode forward, his imposing frame parting the sea of dumbfounded employees. His handsome face was dark with thunderous anger, his jaw set in stone. He closed the distance in long, rapid strides, reaching down to grab Sienna’s wrist. His grip was an iron vise, forcefully pulling her up and away from the woman writhing on the floor.

"Are you done messing around?" Declan interrogated, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that commanded absolute submission.

Still sprawled on the floor, Fiona froze in sheer terror. Her heart slammed frantically against her ribs. Why was Declan here? The paralyzing realization hit her—if they talked, if they compared notes about five years ago, her devastating secret would be exposed. She was finished.

But then, the unexpected happened. Declan released his harsh grip on Sienna and crouched down beside Fiona. The dark fury in his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a tender, concerned pitch that sent shockwaves through the room.

"Are you alright, Fiona?"

Fiona blinked, her mind racing at lightning speed to process the miraculous stroke of luck. From their brief interaction, it was glaringly obvious that neither Declan nor Sienna had connected the dots of her stolen identity. They had absolutely no idea they had slept with each other that night.

Capitalizing on the moment, Fiona forced hot tears to stream down her flushed face.

"Declan, it hurts..." she whimpered pitifully, letting the tears fall like a waterfall. She weakly leaned her body into his broad chest, dramatically pressing her palm against her neck as if Sienna had just tried to suffocate her to death. She let out a fragile, broken cough. "Carry me... please, Declan."

Sienna stood just a few feet away, watching the scene unfold in utter, paralyzing disbelief. Her breath stalled in her lungs as the arrogant, untouchable billionaire gently scooped the wicked, venomous Fiona into his strong arms. He lifted her against his chest as if she were made of fragile glass, securing her safely against him.

A profound puzzle twisted Sienna's gut. Disgust pooled heavy in her stomach. How could a viper like Fiona become Declan's girlfriend after just five years? The man had to be blind. It was the only logical explanation. He deserved far better than a manipulative snake.

As Declan carried Fiona toward the elevator, Paige seized the golden opportunity. She stepped out from the crowd of onlookers, a malicious smirk plastered across her face.

"What are you waiting for, Sienna?" Paige mocked loudly, her voice dripping with venomous glee. "Pack your bags and get out. I can't believe you just physically assaulted President Hawthorne's lover. Offending a client was one thing, but this? You really have a death wish."

Sienna ignored the toxic noise. Her mind was spinning too fast to process Paige's petty taunts. She simply turned on her heel and retreated to her private office, shutting the heavy door firmly behind her to block out the swirling rumors and the staring eyes of her colleagues. She leaned her back against the cool wood of the door, taking a deep, ragged breath as she forced herself to process the jarring news. It was too strange, too twisted to comprehend. I don't see how a wicked snake like Fiona could ever be attractive to an outstanding, powerful man like Declan. He could have any woman in the city. The only explanation is that this man has gone blind to reality. Exhausted, Sienna walked over to her desk, preparing herself for the inevitable fallout.

Meanwhile, safely inside the opulent president's office on the top floor, the heavy wooden doors clicked shut, plunging the massive room into quiet isolation. Declan carefully deposited Fiona onto the plush leather couch.

Fiona immediately dialed up her tearful act. She clutched a soft tissue, dabbing delicately at her eyes as she continued her masterful, Oscar-worthy performance. She whined about the events of the afternoon, layering her lies with practiced ease.

"Sienna was my classmate," Fiona cried, letting out a shaky, dramatic breath. "She and I have a bitter history, but I never thought she would turn me down when I tried to engage her services, let alone humiliate me like this." She tilted her chin up, pulling her collar down slightly to expose her pale skin to him. "When I threatened to complain to the manager about her attitude, she just... snapped. She came at me. She went physical and tried to strangle me with my own necklace. Look at my neck, Declan. It's all red."

Declan stared intently at the faint redness blooming on Fiona's delicate skin. His jaw tightened, a dangerous muscle ticking in his cheek. The mental image of Sienna forcefully gripping the diamond chain flashed in his mind, merging seamlessly with Fiona's victim narrative. Slowly, his perception of the stubborn, fiery designer began to shift darkly. He had thought Sienna was merely fiercely independent, perhaps a little rough around the edges, but this? This was unhinged brutality. If she was willing to physically assault a client over a simple disagreement, what else was she capable of?

"I sympathized with her," Fiona continued, her voice breaking perfectly to elicit maximum pity. She manipulatively layered her toxic narrative, painting a tragic, twisted picture of her rival. "I always knew she struggled with the loss of her mother at a young age, and I understood that her father severely neglected her during her childhood. It caused a lot of deep-rooted trauma. But I didn't know she was a deeply troubled, violent woman. I didn't know she would lash out and attack me over nothing."

Fiona buried her face in her hands, shedding silent, pitiful tears that shook her slender shoulders.

Declan sat beside her, his large hand resting gently on her shoulder to comfort her. The pieces seemed to fit perfectly in his mind—the defensive attitude he had seen, the explosive temper. He believed without a shadow of a doubt that he was looking at a traumatized victim of unprovoked aggression.

"I will handle this matter," Declan promised, his tone laced with a chilling, protective authority. "I am going to get someone to take you home right now."

He reached for the sleek phone on his mahogany desk, giving swift orders to his assistant to secure a luxury car for her. As he moved to stand up, Fiona desperately clung to his tailored sleeve. Her tear-stained face was a perfect mask of helpless vulnerability.

"Declan, please," she urged, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "You mustn't go easy on her. Someone with no manners, someone that violently unstable... she is unfit to be your employee."