Chapter 7 - Sienna’s Other Deal
Sienna asked to meet me in person.
I refused.
Then she asked to meet Nadia.
That happened.
Three days later, I joined by video from the apartment while Sienna sat in Nadia’s conference room beside her own attorney.
She looked smaller without Julian next to her.
Not physically.
Socially.
At Vance events, Sienna had moved through rooms as if she already belonged to them. She wore the right designers, remembered donors’ children, laughed at Victor’s jokes, and called Lorraine “Mrs. Vance” with exactly enough warmth to suggest the title might someday change.
Now she wore black trousers and no jewelry except tiny silver studs.
Her lawyer began.
“My client is prepared to provide records relevant to both the family proceeding and the financial investigation. She is not requesting immunity from anything she may personally have done.”
Nadia nodded.
“Good. We’re not authorized to give it.”
Sienna looked at the camera.
At me.
“I’m sorry.”
I felt nothing useful.
“Which part?”
Her eyes dropped.
“The affair.”
“That’s the part you’re sorry for?”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“The hospital too.”
“You came in a white dress.”
Her face flushed.
“Lorraine told me to.”
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
“Of course she did.”
Sienna flinched.
Then she opened a folder.
“I need you to understand something. I’m not saying this because I think it excuses me.”
“Good.”
“Julian told me your marriage had been over for a year before we started.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“He slept in my bed.”
She looked sick.
“I know.”
“He came to prenatal appointments.”
“I know.”
“He told me he loved me.”
Sienna closed her eyes.
“He told me you refused to let go because you wanted the family money.”
I stared at her.
There it was.
The story.
Built long before the hospital.
Sienna continued.
“He said you had threatened to take the twins and leave the country. He said you were emotionally unstable after learning you were pregnant.”
My hands tightened beneath the table.
Nadia watched me carefully.
I stayed quiet.
Sienna pulled out her phone.
“Victor contacted me directly about two months before the birth.”
Her lawyer handed Nadia printed messages.
Some were logistical.
Some were not.
Victor: We need consistency. Emma will try to use emotion to control the narrative.
Victor: If asked, you observed instability and irrational jealousy.
Victor: Never discuss Julian’s financial arrangements.
Victor: Your consulting agreement depends on discretion.
Then one message made Nadia stop.
Victor: Once custody is secured, the boys’ trust can be finalized without interference.
My mouth went dry.
“The boys’ trust,” I said.
Sienna nodded.
“I asked Julian about it. He said it was just estate planning.”
“What else?”
“He promised me we would marry after the divorce.”
I almost said congratulations.
I didn’t.
“He gave me the condo,” she continued. “And consulting payments because he said his family didn’t want the press saying I was financially dependent on him.”
Grace, joining remotely, asked, “Did you perform consulting services?”
Sienna’s face tightened.
“Some. Event design. Vendor coordination.”
“Eight hundred thousand dollars’ worth?”
“No.”
The number landed hard.
I had known about less than half.
Sienna looked toward her lawyer.
“I didn’t know where the money came from.”
Grace said, “That will be tested.”
“I understand.”
Nadia turned another page.
“Why leave Julian now?”
Sienna’s answer was immediate.
“Because he lied to me too.”
I leaned back.
There it was.
Not redemption.
Self-interest.
Strangely, I trusted it more.
Sienna had not transformed into a good person because she finally saw my pain. She had discovered she was also expendable.
“He told me Emma accepted the money,” she said. “He said she wanted to walk away. He told me she had asked for a larger amount first.”
“That never happened,” Nadia said.
“I know. I saw the hospital footage.”
My pulse jumped.
“How?”
“Julian showed part of it to his lawyers on a video call. He was furious because the social worker had preserved the encounter. I heard him say the family had to make sure the press never got the full recording.”
Her attorney slid another document forward.
An email from a Vance public-relations executive.
Draft narrative options.
OPTION A: MOTHER CHOOSES PRIVATE SETTLEMENT.
OPTION B: POSTPARTUM INSTABILITY REQUIRES PATERNAL INTERVENTION.
OPTION C: MUTUAL SEPARATION WITH CHILDREN RESIDING IN ESTABLISHED VANCE HOME.
I read the lines three times.
They had prewritten my life.
Nadia’s voice sharpened.
“Who approved this?”
Sienna pointed to the email chain.
Victor.
Lorraine.
The PR director.
And Julian.
My husband’s name was there.
Approved.
One word.
No ambiguity.
For the first time since the hospital, grief hit harder than anger.
Not because Julian cheated.
Not because he wanted custody.
Because he had participated in deciding which lie would make me easiest to erase.
I turned off my camera for one minute.
Only one.
I went into the nursery.
Leo was awake.
Oliver slept.
I placed my hand on Leo’s chest and felt his tiny heartbeat.
“You’re real,” I whispered.
So was I.
When I returned, Sienna was crying quietly.
I did not comfort her.
“I need to ask you one question,” I said.
She wiped her face.
“Okay.”
“At the hospital, when you told me the boys deserved a better future, did you believe it?”
She stared at me.
Then shook her head.
“No.”
“Why did you say it?”
“Because I wanted them to accept me.”
That answer was ugly.
It was also honest.
I nodded.
“Then start there when you testify.”
She looked confused.
“With the truth?”
“With the part that makes you look worst.”
Sienna’s mouth trembled.
I continued.
“If you only tell the truth that saves you, they’ll destroy you on cross-examination. Tell the truth that costs you something.”
Nadia stared at me.
After the meeting, she said, “Remind me never to put you on the opposing side of a deposition.”
“I’m tired.”
“That’s when you’re scariest.”
The next morning, Sienna’s attorney delivered her records to investigators.
By afternoon, the Vance public-relations director resigned.
By evening, Victor issued a statement calling Sienna “a disgruntled former contractor seeking attention.”
At nine, Sienna posted nothing.
No interview.
No revenge video.
No glamorous photograph.
May you like
She simply preserved the messages and let the lawyers work.
For once, silence belonged to someone other than the Vances.
