All Chapters of SHE WAS NEVER HIS MISTRESS : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Sienna's pov I have spent three weeks on the job and Carmen had put a second grant folder on my desk without asking. She just set it there while I was on the phone, a small sticky note at the top, her handwriting: *you've got this.* She was already walking away by the time I finished the call. I peeled the Post-it off carefully and stuck it to the edge of my monitor next to the first one she had given me on day two, which said *coffee is in the back, don't let Marcus finish it first.* I keep them both. I don't examine why. The first application went out on a Tuesday. I had checked it four times and then made myself stop checking because there is a point past which reviewing your own work stops being diligence and starts becoming something else. Carmen signed off on it in under ten minutes, which either meant it was good or she trusted me more than the timeline warranted. I chose to believe the first option and move on. The second folder was thicker. A larger grant, a longer hi

FLYNN'S POVMy phone buzzed on the kitchen counter while I was pouring coffee I wouldn’t drink. It was that same unknown number that had texted me the other night. Portland area code. I almost let it go to voicemail, but something made me pick up.“Flynn Thornfield.”“Mr. Thornfield, this is Patricia Haverford from Haverford Estate Management. I believe you got a message sent from us a few days ago. Because of that, I would like us to meet today if possible. Eleven years of silence from my father’s estate, and now this. I checked my watch. “Does Ten o’clock work?”“It works perfectly Mr Thornfield. Thank you.”The line disconnected and I sighed and said to myself “What other surprise did he leave now? Gone almost 12 years and you are still causing me trouble”I arrived at her downtown office exactly on time. Patricia Haverford had been managing the Thornfield estate for as long as I can remember. Patricia looked exactly like I remembered from the original reading of the will. She ha

ARIA’S POV I woke up gagging before my eyes even opened. The nausea hit hard, rolling through me like a wave that refused to break. I lay completely still on my back, one hand pressed over my stomach and breathing slowly through my mouth. I stayed like that for ten minutes. Then Fifteen. It still did not let go. My skin felt clammy and the sheets stuck to my legs. I stared at the ceiling crack I had memorized over the past few weeks and waited it out. When it finally eased, I stayed there for another minute just to be sure. Then I got up. I had eight days until the gala. That was all that mattered. I made it to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and brushed my teeth twice because I had a weird taste in my mouth that would not leave. In the kitchen I ignored the coffee maker. The thought of drinking coffee turned my stomach again. I drank a glass of water instead, standing at the sink in the half dark, then pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a loose sweater. The studio was

SIENNA’S POVThe email arrived at exactly 2:47 on Tuesday while I was eating lunch at my desk. I had a half eaten sandwich in one hand and my phone in the other, scrolling through messages between bites. The subject line made me stop mid chew: “Youth Arts Mentorship Program – Funding Decision.”I opened it slowly. My eyes moved across the words once. Then again. Then a third time because I could not believe what I was reading.The full funding for sixty-two thousand dollars was approved.I set the sandwich down. My hands started shaking. I read the email one more time just to be sure. The words did not change. They had said yes to my application. The first real grant I had ever written.I sat there for a long minute with my heart beating loud in my ears. The small office noise around me all felt far away. This was real. I had done this.I pushed my chair back and walked to Carmen’s office. My legs felt strange, like they belonged to someone else. I knocked on the open door.Carmen loo

ARIA’S POVFive days until the gala. The gallery buzzed with that particular pre show energy that made everything feel both urgent and alive. I moved through the morning like a woman on a mission. Two artist meetings back to back, a long call with a collector who wanted first pick of the new pieces, final approval on the wall text, and a walkthrough with the catering team to make sure the wine stations would not block any sight lines.I handled all of it. Smiled when I needed to smile, asked the right questions, made the right decisions. No one looking at me from the outside would have guessed that my stomach had been rolling since the moment I woke up or that my head felt like it was packed with cotton.Vincent watched me all afternoon. I caught him doing it more than once. From across the main gallery space, his arms were crossed, he had that quiet thoughtful look on his face he got when something was bothering him. I ignored it for as long as I could and by three o’clock I had enou