19

Sierra’s POV

Diamond Trevane was not what I expected. I’d braced myself for another version of Celeste—polished, judgmental, cold. But Louis’s sister was all warm energy and quick laughter. She sat at my kitchen island, eating cold pancakes with her fingers, completely unfazed by the flour on the floor or Katie’s sticky handprints on her designer sleeve.

“So you’re a baker,” she said, her eyes bright with interest. “Like, a real one. With ovens and everything.”

“And everything,” I confirmed, smiling despite my nerves. “Mostly sourdough and pastries.”

“God, I love carbs. Louis survives on espresso and sheer willpower. It’s depressing.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “And you’ve given him a daughter. You’ve basically performed a miracle. My mother is in there,” she gestured with her chin toward the living room where Nia Trevane was listening to Katie explain the plot of a cartoon, “having a silent internal revolution. She planned his life down to the politically advantageous marriage and 2.5 heirs. A baker with a five-year-old surprise was not on the flowchart.”

Her frankness was disarming. “Is she… angry?”

“Shocked. Strategizing. But not angry. Look at Katie. She’s perfect. And you… you looked him in the eye and didn’t flinch. That’s more than Celeste ever did.” She popped the last bite of pancake in her mouth. “Welcome to the chaos, Sierra.”

Nia Trevane, on the other hand, was a puzzle. She asked Katie polite, gentle questions, her posture never relaxing from its regal straightness. When Katie brought her a lopsided drawing of “Grandma Nia and the castle,” she accepted it with the gravity of a state document, placing it carefully in her handbag.

Later, while Diamond took Katie to see the koi pond in the garden, Nia cornered me in the hallway. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Sierra,” she began, her voice quiet and precise. “I will not pretend this is simple. My son’s life is a carefully balanced equation. You and your daughter are a… significant variable.”

I met her gaze, forcing myself not to look away. “We’re not variables. We’re people.”

A faint gleam of approval flashed in her steel-grey eyes, so like Louis’s. “Indeed. And that is why it is complicated. People are messy. They are vulnerable.” She glanced out the window at Katie’s laughing figure. “That child is now the greatest vulnerability and the greatest treasure this family has. Do you understand the target you have placed on her back?”

The cold truth of it washed over me. “I do. Better than anyone. I’ve spent five years trying to keep that target off her.”

“And now you have brought her into the heart of the fortress. The most visible place of all.” She turned her piercing gaze back to me. “My son is a force of nature. When he decides something is his, he protects it without limit. He is already going to war for you. This trouble with Victor Hale… it is no longer just business, is it?”

I shook my head, unable to lie to those discerning eyes. “Victor threatened Katie. To get to Louis.”

Nia’s lips tightened into a thin line. The only sign of the fury that must have been churning inside her. “I see.” She was silent for a long moment. “Then you must become a fortress too. Not just a baker. Not just a mother hiding in a mansion. You must become Sierra Trevane. In every way that matters.”

The name, attached to me, sounded foreign and immense. “I don’t know how to be that.”

“You learn.” She reached out and, to my shock, adjusted the collar of my shirt with a surprisingly gentle touch. “You stand beside him at events. You learn which fork to use. You charm his investors. You make them see a love story, not a scandal. You give the world a narrative so beautiful they dare not question it. And in private, you be his shelter. As he is yours.”

Her words weren’t cruel. They were a blueprint. A survival guide for the world I’d tumbled into. She wasn’t rejecting me. She was recruiting me.

“Why are you helping me?” I whispered.

“Because my son looked at you across a room and finally saw something more important than his stock portfolio.” Her voice softened, just a fraction. “And because that little girl in my garden carries my blood. I will not see her harmed. We protect our own, Sierra. Welcome to the family.”

She gave a stiff, formal nod and walked away, leaving me leaning against the wall, my mind reeling.

The day shifted again when Louis returned from his study, his face a storm cloud. He pulled me into his office, away from the family sounds.

“Victor leaked fake documents to the press,” he said, his jaw clenched. “He’s alleging financial mismanagement in my foundation. Embezzlement. It’s all fabricated, but the smoke will cause damage. My PR team is containing it, but…”

“But it’s a distraction,” I finished, understanding dawning. “While you’re busy putting out this fire, he’s planning his next real move against us.”

He looked at me, impressed. “Exactly.”

“So what do we do?”

“We fight fire with a tsunami.” A ruthless smile touched his lips. “I have something he doesn’t expect. You.”

“Me?”

“The press wants a story about my foundation’s supposed corruption? I’ll give them a better one. The story of a man who just discovered the family he never knew. A man so inspired by his newfound daughter that he’s launching a new, transparent family charity initiative. We upstage his scandal with our… joy.”

It was brilliant. And terrifying. It meant stepping into the spotlight I had spent my life avoiding.

“My mother was right,” I said softly, thinking of Nia’s words. “I have to become Sierra Trevane.”

Louis’s eyes searched mine. “Only if you’re ready. I won’t force you into the public eye.”

But I saw the need in him. This wasn’t just a strategy. It was our best shield. Our united front.

I thought of Katie’s smile. Of Victor’s cold threat. Of the way Louis’s arms felt around me in the dark.

I took a deep breath. “Tell me what to do.”

The plan was set in motion with dizzying speed. A press conference was called for the next afternoon. I was fitted for a simple, elegant dress by a stylist who appeared at the house within the hour. A media coach gave me brief, clipped instructions on how to stand, where to look, how to smile without looking like a deer in headlights.

Louis’s mother oversaw it all with the detached efficiency of a general. Diamond stayed with Katie, promising to have a “fashion show” with her dolls to keep her occupied.

That night, after the world had been told and the house was quiet, I lay in Louis’s arms again. The panic from the day had settled into a low hum of anxiety.

“I’m scared,” I admitted into the darkness.

His arms tightened around me. “I know. So am I.”

“You? You’re never scared.”

“I’m terrified,” he whispered, his lips against my hair. “I’m terrified of failing you. Of not being enough to keep you safe. This… this feeling, it’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever been.”

His confession loosened something tight in my chest. We were both scared. We were both in uncharted waters. But we were together.

I turned in his arms to face him. In the moonlight filtering through the blinds, I traced the lines of his face. “We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Together.”

He captured my hand, kissing my palm. Then his mouth found mine. This kiss was different from all the others. It was not hungry or desperate or claiming. It was slow. It was deep. It was a vow.

His hands slid under my sleep shirt, mapping my skin with a reverence that made me tremble. I arched into him, my own hands sliding over the hard planes of his back, pulling him closer.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. The fear and the hope and the overwhelming rightness of it all poured into every touch, every sigh. We moved together in the dark, a silent promise against the coming storm.

Later, spent and tangled together, I listened to his heartbeat steady under my ear.

Tomorrow, we would face the cameras. We would face Victor. We would face the world.

But tonight, we had this. This fragile, newfound peace. This family we were building from the ruins of our pasts.

And for the first time, I believed it might just be enough.