Siena stood in front of the large window in her office, her arms crossed, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand she hadn't touched. Outside, the skyline looked deceptively calm, clouds moving slowly over the city like it didn't just receive a tremor deep beneath its core.
Because that's what it felt like.
A tremor.
She'd spent years believing her father's death had been an accident—another tragic chapter in a rich man's story. But now, with Gregory Lane's confession and that grainy video, the past felt like it had claws. It wasn't buried. It had been waiting.
And now it wanted attention.
Reeve's voice played through her phone on speaker.
"If we're going to reopen Jonathan Hart's case, we'll need more than a meeting with Curtis Vale. We'll need physical evidence, traffic reports, medical records—anything that contradicts what was officially recorded."
"I'll help you get everything," Alexander said from across her desk. His voice was calm, but Siena knew better. He'd spent all morning on calls with his internal security team. Reeve might've had access to public investigations, but Alexander had access to something more dangerous—private intelligence.
Siena finally turned around. "Do we have a way to find Curtis Vale?"
Reeve responded. "Vale went off the radar a few years ago after a string of fraud allegations. The last known location was a private estate in Vellore Bay."
"Vellore?" Alexander frowned. "That's a high-end zone. Private security, multiple offshore properties."
"We might not get him to come willingly," Reeve added, "but we can make some noise. If he hears Siena's name tied to a reopened case, he'll resurface. One way or another."
Siena nodded slowly. "Let's start the noise."
---
That evening, Siena sat on the floor of her penthouse, surrounded by old boxes. She hadn't gone through her father's belongings in years. Her mother had passed them off to her after his death, too grief-stricken to keep anything. Most of it had been stuffed in closets, locked away in memory and guilt.
Now, with Alexander beside her, she opened the first box.
There were old contracts, travel schedules, and journals—her father's handwriting scribbled across the margins. Notes in shorthand. Codes. Mentions of board meetings and "HW."
Harold Withers.
The man whose name was everywhere, and yet somehow, nowhere at all.
Alexander picked up a sealed envelope buried at the bottom of the second box. It was aged and yellowed around the corners, but her father's handwriting was clear:
> For Siena. In case of questions.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then opened it.
Inside was a letter.
And what she read made her entire body go still.
---
My dearest Siena,
If you're reading this, it means things went further than I ever wanted. It means I couldn't stop what was coming. But I tried, sweetheart. I tried so hard.
There are people you'll trust—people you already do—who will show you their real faces too late. Harold was once a man I trusted with my legacy, with my company, and even with my family. But something changed. Greed. Power. Secrets. I discovered things about him that made my stomach turn. I tried to remove him quietly, but he had already spread his roots into the very walls of Hartline.
If anything happens to me, I want you to do one thing: dig. Don't stop digging. The truth is messy, but it's yours to uncover.
And never, ever let them convince you that being a woman makes you any less equipped to handle the fire. You are my daughter. You are the storm I always feared—and the one I always counted on.
I love you. Always.
Dad.
---
Siena blinked back tears as she read the last line again and again. Her father had known.
He had known Harold would outlive him, outplay him—and possibly outmaneuver everyone.
"I need to bring this to the board," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alexander stood up, holding out his hand. "Then let's do it together."
---
The next morning, the Hartline board meeting was quieter than usual.
Most members had read the updated brief Siena sent out. But no one expected the letter she now placed in front of them—copies made, one for each seat.
"This letter was written by Jonathan Hart," she said, "shortly before his death. It references Harold Withers, who is still drawing a consulting fee from Hartline's estate. That ends today."
A few murmurs rippled through the room.
Granger was the first to speak. "This isn't proof of illegal action."
"No," Siena agreed. "But it's enough to warrant a suspension of all dealings with Harold Withers until a full investigation is complete."
"And what do you propose we do?" Diana Lorne asked.
Siena looked around the room. "I want the board to vote on an immediate freeze of all assets tied to Withers, including shell accounts. If he has nothing to hide, he won't object. But if he does…"
She didn't need to finish the sentence.
The board voted.
The motion passed.
And within minutes, Harold's legal assistant was on the phone demanding explanations.
---
Later that evening, Alexander found Siena pacing in the lobby of their building.
"You're not sleeping again," he said.
"I don't know how," she replied, rubbing her arms. "Every time I close my eyes, I see that video. Or I hear my dad's voice."
Alexander gently reached out and pulled her into a hug. "You're doing everything right. You're honoring him by fighting for what he couldn't finish."
She leaned her forehead against his chest. "What if it's not enough?"
"It's more than enough."
Just then, Siena's phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She hesitated… then answered.
A voice on the other end. Raspy. Nervous.
"This is Curtis Vale."
Siena's eyes widened. Alexander immediately straightened.
"I don't have much time," the voice continued. "They're watching me. But I saw the press. I saw the board move. That letter your father wrote—he wasn't wrong. Harold was behind it all."
"Behind what exactly?" Siena asked.
"The car crash. The silence. He covered his tracks by eliminating anyone who got close. Your father… Dael…"
Her heart stopped. "Dael?"
Vale coughed. "They were working together. She was helping him compile a file on Blackwood and Harold. That's why she disappeared."
Siena's grip on the phone tightened. "Where are you?"
"I'll send the location. But come alone. And don't tell Reeve. He has eyes everywhere."
The line went dead.
Siena turned slowly to Alexander.
"I think we just found our storm."