Chapter 4.

~ Sienna’s POV ~

Vincent didn’t come home two nights ago.

He didn’t come to work the next day, either.

Or the day after that.

For forty-eight hours, Vincent Ashford was nowhere to be seen. He had missed the meeting with the investors which made them very angry. I and Mr Henderson had to plead with them to reschedule.

It is already 9:55 AM. The board members are already seated in the main conference room and Vincent is still nowhere to be seen.

The atmosphere is toxic. Mr. Henderson, the majority shareholder, is pacing the length of the room, checking his Rolex every thirty seconds.

“Where the hell is he?” Henderson barks, turning his glare on me. “The investors are on their way as we speak. We need him here today or we will lose the investments. If he isn’t here in five minutes, Sienna, I’m calling a vote of no confidence.”

I stand by the door, running on caffeine and a deep, simmering rage that I am too terrified to let out because it will swallow everybody.

My eyes feel like they are filled with sand. I haven’t slept. After saving the company from the shipping disaster two days, I went home to an empty penthouse just to throw up all through the night. The dizziness and nausea keep growing each day, but with the amount of work at the company, I haven’t been able to visit the hospital.

“He’s on his way,” I lie to them. My voice is steady, practiced. “Traffic is terrible this morning.”

“Traffic,” Henderson scoffs. “Or is he still playing house with that woman while we clean up his mess?”

The door to the conference room open.

And, Vincent walks in.

The room instantly goes silent.

Vincent doesn’t look like a CEO dealing with a crisis. He looks spectacular, almost glowing. He is wearing a fresh navy suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, his skin glowing with the vitality of a man who has spent the last forty-eight hours being worshipped.

And clinging to his arm, wearing a white sheath dress that costs more than my annual salary, is Chloe.

I feel the blood drain from my face. I actually stumble back a step.

He brought her here? To the boardroom? Today?

“You’re late,” Henderson snaps, not even acknowledging Chloe. “And we are in the middle of a crisis, Vincent.”

Vincent breezes past me without a glance. He doesn’t ask how I solved the port strike. He barely registers my existence.

“Relax, Henderson,” Vincent says, his voice smooth and arrogant. He takes his seat at the head of the table and next, he pulls out the chair next to him—the chair reserved for the CFO—and gestures for Chloe to sit.

A collective gasp erupts in the room.

“Vincent,” Mr. Brooks says, standing up. “This is a closed session. Top-level clearance only. Ms. Martinez cannot be here.”

Vincent leans back, interlacing his fingers. He looks like a king holding court with peasants. “Chloe is my consultant on the hotel aesthetics. She stays.”

“Consultant, my ass?” Henderson slams his hand on the table. “She’s the reason you’ve been AWOL for two days! Do you have any idea how close we came to losing the financing? If Sienna hadn’t stepped in and chartered those planes—”

Vincent waves a dismissive hand, cutting him off. “Sienna did her job. That’s what I pay her for. Stop being dramatic. The work is still going on as it should, isn’t it?”

I freeze.

That’s what I pay her for.

I spent six hours speaking broken Italian, begging port authorities and putting my own name on the line to save his face. And he brushes it off like I simply fetched his dry cleaning.

“Sienna.” Vincent says, snapping his fingers.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get a cup of coffee for Chloe. And turn down the AC, she’s shivering.”

The humiliation is a physical blow. The board members look away, uncomfortable. Fetching coffee is the job of the junior staff and trainees, yet he is treating me like a waitress in front of them.

“Sir,” I say, my voice tight. “We need to review the charter contracts. The signature…..”

“I said get the coffee, damn it,” he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous tone that usually comes before he punches my face.

I look at him. I look at Chloe, who is watching me with a small, triumphant smirk playing on her lips. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

And I obviously don’t have a choice.

Quietly, I excuse myself to go and fetch the coffee.

A few minutes later, I return.

“Here,” I say softly, placing it on the coaster in front of Chloe.

She leans in close, pretending to fix her earring while gripping my hand tightly.

“You really should be careful with things that don’t belong to you.” she says only to my hearing before flashing the fakest simile I have ever seen.

“Thanks sweetie,” she purrs as she lets go of my hand.

She reaches for the cup, and her hand ‘slips,’ her fingers batting against the side of the cup and tipping it over. It’s clumsy and obviously deliberate.

Splash.

The dark, scalding liquid pours on the copies of the Stratos contract. It drips off the edge and lands squarely on Vincent’s pristine trousers.

“Damn it!” Vincent yells, jumping up. His chair screeches against the floor.

“Oh my god!” Chloe cries, jumping up and pressing her hands to her mouth in mock horror. “Vinnie! I’m so sorry! She dropped it! She just let go before I had it!”

It’s a lie. A blatant, bold-faced lie that everyone here knows because I had placed the coffee on the table and my hand wasn’t even near it when it fell. She is the one who did it on purpose.

“I placed the coffee on the table—”

“You incompetent bitch!” Vincent screams, turning on me. “Look at what you did! You nearly burned her!”

He isn’t worried about the documents. He isn’t worried about his suit. He’s worried about her. She didn’t even get touched by a drop, yet he’s acting like I threw acid in her face.

He grabs my arm. His grip is bruising, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my bicep. He yanks me forward, nearly pulling me off my feet.

“Vincent!” Henderson shouts. “That is enough!”

Vincent ignores him. He is looking at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. “Look at you. You’re pathetic. You’re jealous, aren’t you? You can’t stand that she’s back, so you try to humiliate her?”

“I didn’t drop the damn cup, Vincent! She did!”

Vincent’s face goes purple. He shoves me backward and I stumble, my hip hitting hard into the edge of the conference table.

“You’re fired,” he hisses.

“What?”

“I said you’re fired. Now get out before I have security drag you out by your hair.”

“You can’t do this.” I choke out.

“I already did, and last I checked I’m the boss in this office. Now get the hell out of my sight.” he points to the door.

I look around the room. Twelve powerful men. Twelve men who watched me save their investments two days ago.

“Vincent, this is hardly the place and time—” Mr. Brooks starts to say, half-rising from his chair.

“One more word, Brooks, and you can join her!” Vincent snaps.

Mr. Brooks freezes. He looks at me, his eyes filled with apology, before slowly sinking back into his seat.

They are cowards. All of them.

I straighten my jacket. I wipe the tears that escaped down my cheek.

“Fine.” I say.

I turn and walk out.

As the doors close behind me, I hear Chloe’s voice, soft and sweet. “Oh, Vinnie. Let me dry that off for you.”

I make it back to my desk before my legs give out. I collapse into my chair, burying my face in my hands. My arm throbs where he grabbed me. I feel dizzy. My hip aches. But my chest... my chest feels like it has been hollowed out with a rusty knife.

Ping.

My computer screen lights up. Then my phone buzzes.

It’s an email notification.

From: HR - Automated System

Subject: Employment Status Update - IMMEDIATE ACTION

My breath hitches. My trembling finger hovers over the mouse. I click it.

Dear Ms. Hayes,

This notification is to inform you that your employment with Ashford Enterprises has been terminated, effective immediately, per the instruction of the CEO.

Reason: Gross Misconduct / Insubordination.

Your access to all company servers, email accounts, and building clearance has been revoked. Security has been notified to escort you from the premises.

I stare at the screen. The words blur.

Terminated.

Effective Immediately.

What?

My screen suddenly goes black. A red padlock icon appears.

ACCESS DENIED.

My phone buzzes again. It’s a notification from the building security system. ID Badge #004 Deactivated.

He erased me. In thirty seconds, Vincent erased nine years of my life.

The pain should kill me. It should make me fall to the floor. But as I stare at that red lock, something weird happens. A switch flips deep inside my chest.

I just feel tired.

“Sienna?”

I look up. Two security guards—men I have brought coffee to, men I have asked about their kids—are standing at my desk. They look apologetic, but they are blocking the exit.

“We... uh... we got a call,” one of them says, looking at the floor. “Mr. Ashford wants you escorted out. Now.”

I stand up.

I look at the dark screen of my computer. I look at the closed door of the boardroom where my husband is sitting with his lover, probably laughing at how easy it was to discard me.

I have no job. And because of the clause in the email... I have no money.

“Okay.” I whisper.

I don’t pack a box. I just take my bag and the picture plaque of my sister and I sitting on the desk before leaving with the two guards, who are now matching me towards the elevator like I’m a prisoner.

Getting to the elevator, the doors open and I step inside.

And as the doors slide shut, I realize the most terrifying truth of all:

My life is right back to the trenches. No job. No money. And definitely no fucking plan about what to do next.