He painted Sienna as manipulative.
Vindictive.
Calculating.
So I make sure the truth reflects back at him.
We release the evidence in layers. Financial crimes first—enough to rattle investors. Then the provenance fraud, tied directly to cultural theft. Then the communications. The threats. The coercion. The language he used when he thought no one would ever hear him.
By the time the final documents surface, the narrative has already turned.
The elevator door opens, and Sienna steps out, holding a steaming cup of coffee. She’s wearing my shirt, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair mussed from sleep and all the sex we had last night. Her presence fills the room before she even speaks.
She greets Marko, who responds with a grin, and they trade a few playful jabs before he excuses us.
Sienna steps closer, eyes locked on me, and hands me the cup. “Black. Just how you like it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”
She smirks, a hint of mischief under the warmth. “I watch you.”
I take a slow sip, letting the bitter warmth settle in, and then set the mug down. I open my arms.
She moves into me without hesitation, fitting perfectly as if the space was always hers. Her head rests against my chest, and I feel her inhale deeply, finally relaxed.
I press a kiss to the top of her hair, fingers tangling in it gently. “You know,” I murmur, voice low, “watching you is…dangerous.”
She lifts her face just enough to smirk up at me. “Dangerous how?”
“Because every time I do, I forget the rest of the world exists.”
Her lips brush mine, soft, teasing, and yet full of promise. I hold her closer, letting the moment stretch—sweet, quiet, a calm after the storm.
“You didn’t sleep,” she murmurs against my chest.
“Didn’t need to.” My thumb strokes down her spine, slow, grounding. “I have everything ready.”
She pulls back, eyes scanning the mountain of files spread across the table. “You’re going to expose him?”
“No.”
Her brow furrows, confusion written plain. “What?”
“I’m going to let him destroy himself.”
Her inhale is sharp. “And…how?”
I explain, measured, low, letting her absorb each word:
“Mikhailov is paranoid. He’s been staging a coup within his own family for years. Terrified of betrayal. That’s why he recruited you quietly—because he doesn’t trust his own men. If these documents appear in his inbox anonymously, he’ll believe one of his brothers is turning against him.”
Sienna blinks, her breath catching. “And he’ll retaliate?”
“Hard.” I kiss the top of her head. “But you won’t be involved.”
Her green eyes widen, and realization blooms, sharp and exhilarating. “He’ll collapse his own network?”
I nod. “And we’ll be standing on the sidelines, untouched.”
