Chapter 9: The Ex-Factor

Sienna barely made it past the glass doors when she noticed something was off.

For starters, the scent — something floral and sharp, too delicate for an office like Blake & Co., where glass, steel, and ambition filled the air. It drew her eyes to her desk.

And there it was.

A towering bouquet of white orchids.

Elegant. Imposing. Arranged in a crystalline vase that practically whispered old money.

At first, she thought someone had made a delivery mistake.

Because surely this kind of arrangement wasn't meant for her. Assistants didn't get orchids unless it was a sympathy bouquet. Or a bribe.

Then she saw the small white envelope tucked among the stems. Clean. Embossed. Unapologetically confident.

Her name wasn't on it.

Julian's was.

In graceful, slanted handwriting that screamed private school ballet lessons and summering in Monaco.

"To Julian.

Congratulations on your new chapter.

— L."

L.

The single letter hit her harder than a name.

There were letters, and then there were signatures. This one was a signature. A brand. A warning shot.

Her stomach coiled before her mind had fully processed the threat.

Just then, the elevator dinged.

And in walked Julian Blake.

Sharp as always in a charcoal suit. Tie loose, jaw set, a phone still pressed to his ear as he walked in. He stopped abruptly when he saw the bouquet.

His voice trailed off.

His expression shuttered.

And Sienna knew, even before he ended the call, that she was about to meet the ghost of his past.

⸻

Scene 2: The One Who Came Before

"She doesn't give up," Julian muttered, pulling the envelope from Sienna's hand like it might burn her. "Four years and still playing games."

Sienna perched on the edge of her desk. "You going to tell me who she is or let me guess?"

He looked down at the card again, then sighed. "Lana."

Sienna blinked. "Lana as in… the ex-fiancée?"

"The one and only."

She gave a low whistle. "So she's not dead."

"Unfortunately not."

He sat down at the edge of her desk opposite her, the card turning slowly in his hand. "She's back in New York. Her father's opening a new luxury chain—of course. There's a gala. She knows I'll be there."

Sienna watched him closely. His face was unreadable, but something in his eyes shifted — a storm held barely in check.

"Why now?" she asked.

"Because she hates being forgotten."

"And she thinks you've forgotten her?"

"She thinks I'm replacing her."

Sienna raised a brow. "Well… are you?"

Julian looked up.

At her.

There was silence. Sharp and electric.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But she's testing me. Testing us."

She wanted to laugh it off — the ridiculous idea that there was even an us to test — but her chest was tight, her throat dry.

Because she wasn't sure where the pretending ended anymore.

⸻

Scene 3: A Dangerous Message

Later that night, Julian sat in the dim glow of his penthouse office.

Whiskey in one hand. Phone in the other.

A message blinked at him.

Lana:

"She's cute. Sweet, even. But does she know the real you, Julian? Or are you still letting her believe you're capable of something as inconvenient as love?"

He stared at the screen for a long time.

He didn't reply.

He didn't delete it either.

Instead, he picked up his phone and opened the surveillance footage from his building lobby.

Sienna had left hours ago. But he watched her again — that moment she stepped out into the night, heels tapping softly, confidence in every step.

Lana was a weapon.

But Sienna? She was a storm he hadn't seen coming.

⸻

Scene 4: Preparing for Battle

Saturday came like a shot.

The gala was held at The Delacroix, a private estate-turned-venue on the Upper East Side. The kind of place where fortunes were made and reputations destroyed — often in the same evening.

Sienna stood in front of her mirror for a long time before she got dressed.

She chose a deep sapphire gown that shimmered with movement, modest in cut but indecent in how it clung. Her makeup was flawless, lips bold, eyes rimmed with steel.

She didn't wear jewelry.

She was the accessory.

Julian met her at the car. For once, he was stunned into silence.

"Wow," he said.

She smiled, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. "Let's go break a few egos."

⸻

Scene 5: The Queen Arrives

The gala pulsed with classical music and quiet scandal. Waiters glided through the room with champagne flutes, and everywhere Sienna turned, someone whispered.

Not about Julian.

About her.

Who was she? The stunning woman on Julian Blake's arm. The mystery girl who smiled like she belonged, even though everyone knew she didn't.

And then the murmuring stopped.

Because she had arrived.

Lana Kane.

The woman looked like a custom sketch — tall, glacial, breathtaking in a red gown that sliced down the back. Her hair was pulled into a sleek knot, and her heels clicked like the march of a firing squad.

Her smile was lethal.

"Julian," she purred, gliding toward them. "You look… alive."

He said nothing.

"And this," she said, turning her full attention to Sienna, "must be the girl I've heard so little about and already pity."

Sienna didn't flinch. "Funny. I've heard everything about you and still feel nothing."

Lana's eyes darkened.

Julian stepped forward. "Lana, we're not doing this."

"Oh, we are," she said, her voice velveted in venom. "I just needed to see for myself. To see the girl who thinks she's more than just a distraction."

Sienna smiled. "Oh, I'm definitely a distraction. From your drama, your lies, your desperation…"

Julian interrupted. "That's enough."

Sienna turned to him. "Actually, it's not."

Then to Lana: "You lost. Whatever game you were playing — it ended when he stopped choosing you."

The crowd had begun to watch.

Lana's smile dropped completely. "This isn't over."

Julian's voice was calm. Final.

"It already is."

⸻

Scene 6: The Ride Home

They didn't speak on the way home.

The air between them was thick with unspoken truths.

Finally, as the city lights blurred past the car window, Sienna broke the silence.

"She hates me."

Julian didn't look at her. "She hates herself more."

"I don't like how she looks at you."

"I don't like how she looks at you."

Their eyes met.

The tension snapped.

"Why did you defend me like that?" she whispered.

"Because I'm tired of pretending I don't care."

He leaned in, slow and certain, eyes searching hers.

"Julian…"

His lips brushed hers.

And just like that, the line between real and fake vanished.

There was no act anymore.

Just them.

Breathless.

Colliding.

Ruined.

And just beginning.