Chapter 5

“Let go of me.”

Grant practically dragged Sienna all the way to the underground parking garage. Her wrist throbbed beneath his grip, making her wince.

The garage was vast and nearly empty, and her pained gasps echoed through the space.

Grant’s fingertips brushed the angry red marks circling her wrist, and his jaw tightened.

His eyes darkened.

All he could see was Rowan’s hand wrapped around her wrist in the hallway.

Without realizing it, he tightened his grip again.

Sienna’s cheeks flushed with anger.

Finally, she tore her arm free.

“Grant Sullivan, are you done?”

The irritation in her voice was unmistakable.

Grant stumbled half a step, surprise flashing in his eyes.

It was the first time she’d ever called him by his full name.

Before they married, she’d called him Mr. Sullivan.

After the wedding, she’d called him honey.

He turned and stared at her.

“What did you just call me?”

Her impatient tone doused his anger like ice water.

She was the one he’d caught with another man. How was she the one losing patience with him?

Sienna ignored the question and rubbed her aching wrist. Her chest rose and fell slightly from being forced to walk so quickly.

After catching her breath, she said, “You received the agreement. Sign it when you’re ready, and my attorney will file it with the court.”

Her voice was flat and emotionless, as casual as if she were asking what he wanted for dinner.

Grant remembered the brown envelope.

He remembered Caleb saying it had come from his wife.

He hadn’t even opened it. He’d tossed it aside without a second thought.

Then came the meetings, the problems with the overseas project, and endless work.

Eventually, he’d forgotten the envelope existed.

So those were the divorce papers.

She’d already made up her mind to leave him.

Because of whom?

Rowan Reed?

Grant looked at her again.

She wore a satin blouse tucked into tailored slacks, with a sleek metallic belt accentuating her waist. Her dark hair fell in polished waves around her shoulders, and subtle makeup sharpened her already striking features.

She looked poised and capable, every inch a successful professional.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at her this closely.

At home, she always wore simple, comfortable clothes. She rarely wore makeup, and her long hair usually fell loose over her shoulders.

Every evening when he came home, she greeted him with a warm smile.

She would bury her face against his chest and softly ask whether he was tired or if anything had gone wrong that day.

He’d grown so accustomed to that gentle version of her that the cold woman standing before him now felt like a stranger.

The eyes that had once held nothing but warmth for him now seemed filled with disappointment.

He’d forgotten that she was human too.

After being passed over time and time again, she had every right to be angry.

Grant took a deep breath and forced down the emotions surging in his chest.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer.

“We’re both angry right now. This isn’t the time to discuss divorce. Let’s go home.”

He reached for her.

Sienna immediately stepped back, avoiding his touch as if it would burn her.

The reaction hit him harder than he expected.

His hand froze in midair.

“That’s your home,” she said. “Not mine.”

She looked up at him.

Her nose stung, and her voice caught in her throat.

“I don’t have a home anymore.”

It was true.

Her father was gone.

She had no family left in this world.

Oakhaven was enormous, its skyline blazing with light. Everyone had somewhere to go and someone to depend on.

Everyone except her.

She’d once naively believed she could warm Grant’s heart.

She’d devoted herself to him in every possible way. She learned about all his hobbies, mastered every rule of high society, and forced herself to become good at things that had never come naturally.

She had molded herself into the woman he wanted.

She’d tried to save her father.

She’d tried to save her marriage.

In the end, she’d lost them both.

She’d failed at everything.

Sienna forced the pain back down and refused to let her tears fall.

The last thing she wanted was for Grant to see her like this.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze with stubborn determination.

“I’m not going back. I’ve already moved out, and I didn’t take a single thing that belonged to you.”

She paused.

“The terms in the divorce agreement are fair. I’m only taking what belongs to me.”

What belonged to him?

Only what belonged to her?

Grant almost laughed.

His lips twisted into a humorless smile.

“You’re certainly drawing a clear line between us. Tell me, Sienna, was our entire marriage nothing but a transaction to you?”

“What else was it?”

Her answer came instantly, as if she’d understood the truth all along.

“You only married me so you could inherit your grandfather’s shares. Neither of us has the moral high ground here.”

The air went still.

One second passed.

Then two.

Then three.

Grant suddenly laughed and lowered the hand still frozen between them.

“Good point.”

Her words pierced straight through his pride.

He stepped closer, his tall frame looming over her.

Every trace of softness vanished from his face as if it had never existed.

“I’m not signing anything. You know why I got married in the first place.”

Grant looked down at her, his usual air of superiority returning.

“You’ve never had the right to decide when this relationship begins or ends.”

There he was.

The real Grant Sullivan.

His tenderness had only been a mask. The moment his interests were threatened, he became the ruthless corporate predator everyone knew.

Sienna stared at him for a long moment.

“Do you really think I can’t survive without you?”

He didn’t answer.

His eyes said enough.

Sienna scoffed at his arrogance.

“I hope you can stay this confident.”

She had nothing else to say.

She took out her keys and walked toward her car, her expression frighteningly calm.

Grant clenched his fists.

In the end, he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

His voice came out hoarser than he’d intended.

“What is he to you?”

Sienna didn’t slow down.

“None of your business.”

“We’re not divorced yet. You’re still part of the Sullivan family.”

“Not for much longer.”

Just as her hand touched the door handle, she added, “I’ll have my attorney follow up on the agreement. Let’s end this cleanly. Don’t make it uglier than it needs to be.”

She got into the car and shut the door.

The engine started, and the headlights briefly illuminated Grant’s face before sweeping past him.

He watched her drive away until the car disappeared around the corner.

Even then, he remained rooted to the spot, his hands hanging cold at his sides.

Once he got into his own car, it took three clicks of the lighter before the flame finally caught.

Smoke curled around his face.

Before it had cleared, his gaze landed on the rearview mirror.

A small St. Christopher medal hung from it.

Sienna had brought it back for him from a mountain monastery last February.

A violent storm had closed the mountain road that day, and she’d called him to pick her up.

When he reached the entrance at the foot of the mountain, he found her crouched beneath a mushroom-shaped shelter, curled into a tiny ball.

The moment she saw him, she gave him a sheepish smile and apologized for making him come all that way.

Then she pulled the medal from her pocket and proudly held it up for him to see.

She told him Brother Ambrose had made and blessed it himself. Out of the twenty-some people in her group, she’d been the only one chosen to receive it.

The interior light had been on.

She was soaked from head to toe, with wet hair plastered to her forehead. She’d looked like a stray cat caught in the rain, but her eyes had shone with pure joy.

Grant rarely drove himself. Caleb usually handled transportation for business dinners and other engagements, and Grant changed cars frequently.

He’d never paid much attention to what appeared or disappeared inside them.

He didn’t even know when Sienna had hung the medal there.

Perhaps she’d done it that night.

Perhaps it had been sometime later.

The cigarette ember burned closer to his fingers.

Grant didn’t react until a sharp sting jolted him back to his senses.

He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray.

After a long silence, he took out his phone and made a call.

“Look into Rowan Reed.”

A fresh spasm of pain twisted through his stomach.

Grant bent over the steering wheel and pressed a hand against his abdomen.

For the first time, he sensed that things were beginning to slip beyond his control.