Sienna's POV
Three Years Earlier
You're going to drop me! I laughed as Damien spun me across our living room, nearly knocking over a lamp.
Never, he promised, pulling me close. His eyes—warm brown, nothing like the cold stranger I'd see in them later—crinkled at the corners. I've got you. Always.
The music swelled from the speakers. Our anniversary party hummed with conversation and laughter around us, but in that moment, it was just us. My husband. My partner. My forever.
I was such a fool.
Five years, Damien murmured against my hair. Five years of putting up with a workaholic tech geek who forgets anniversaries.
You've never forgotten an anniversary, I corrected, smiling up at him. You're annoyingly perfect that way.
Perfect? He laughed. Your standards must be low, Prosecutor Chen.
Prosecutor Zhao, I corrected. I'd kept Chen professionally but took his name personally. The best of both worlds, I'd thought. And my standards are extremely high. You just happen to meet them.
He kissed me then, soft and sweet, and I felt it all the way to my toes. God, I loved this man. Loved the way he supported my career even when it meant late nights and canceled dinners. Loved how he'd shown up at the courthouse with coffee during my biggest trial. Loved how he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.
Three weeks. I had three weeks left before he'd try to kill me.
But I didn't know that yet.
Sienna! Lily Zhang pushed through the crowd, champagne sloshing in her glass. My best friend since law school, brilliant attorney, terrible at holding her liquor. Stop being disgustingly in love for five seconds. I need to toast you properly.
Damien released me with a grin. I'll get us refills. Don't let her say anything too embarrassing.
As he walked away, I watched him move through our guests—tech executives, lawyers, my family. Uncle Marcus caught his arm, pulling him into conversation. My uncle looked distinguished as always, silver threading through his dark hair. He'd introduced me to Damien six years ago at a tech conference, proud as any father.
You're staring at your husband like a lovesick teenager, Lily said. It's adorable and nauseating.
I'm the luckiest woman alive, I said, meaning it completely.
Lily clinked her glass against mine. You really are. Successful career, gorgeous husband who actually respects your work, and— she leaned in, whispering, —I heard you demolished the Harrison fraud case today. Third conviction this month. You're on fire, Chen.
Pride warmed my chest. The Harrison case had taken eight months to build. Corporate executives stealing pension funds from their own employees. Watching them get dragged out in handcuffs had been the highlight of my week.
Just doing my job, I said.
Your job is putting white-collar criminals in prison. You're terrifyingly good at it. Lily's smile faded slightly. Sometimes I worry you're going to prosecute someone powerful enough to come after you.
That's what witness protection is for, I joked.
But Lily didn't laugh. I'm serious, Sienna. These people play dirty. And you're so... principled. You trust the system will protect you.
Because it will. I squeezed her hand. Stop worrying. I'm fine. We're fine. Everything is perfect.
That word again. Perfect.
The party continued. Damien returned with champagne, his arm sliding around my waist like it belonged there. Marcus gave a toast about young love and success. Victoria—Damien's new executive assistant, pretty in a quiet way—refilled glasses and smiled politely when people spoke to her.
I noticed small things I'd later remember: how Victoria's eyes tracked Damien's movements. How Marcus watched me with an expression I couldn't quite read. How Damien's phone buzzed constantly and he kept stepping away to take calls.
Everything okay? I asked when he returned from the fifth call.
Just investor stuff, he said easily. Marcus has some new opportunities he wants to discuss.
At our anniversary party?
Damien kissed my temple. You know how he is. Business never stops. He changed the subject smoothly. Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?
I let it go. Let myself believe everything was fine.
The guests finally left around midnight. Damien helped me clean up, laughing as we discovered someone had spilled wine on our couch.
I'll handle it, he said. You go to bed. You've got court in the morning.
The Brennan case, I confirmed, yawning. Securities fraud. Should be straightforward.
Something flickered across Damien's face—too fast to identify. You work too hard.
Says the man who slept in his office three times last week.
Touché. He pulled me close one more time. I love you, Sienna Chen Zhao. More than I ever thought I could love anyone.
I love you too.
I went upstairs, my heart full. Changed into pajamas. Washed my face. Started to brush my teeth.
Then remembered I'd left my case files in Damien's study.
The Brennan files were critical—I needed to review them before tomorrow's hearing. I padded back downstairs in bare feet, heading for Damien's private office.
The door was ajar.
Inside, Damien sat at his desk, head in his hands. He looked... broken. Exhausted in a way I'd never seen.
Damien? I pushed the door open. Are you okay?
He jerked upright, slamming his laptop closed. Sienna! I thought you were asleep.
I need my Brennan files. I moved toward his desk. What's wrong? You look upset.
Nothing. Just tired. But his eyes darted to a manila folder on his desk—one I didn't recognize.
My prosecutor instincts kicked in. Something was off.
What's that? I nodded at the folder.
Work stuff. Nothing important.
But the way he said it, too casual, too quick, made my skin prickle.
I reached for the folder.
Damien's hand shot out, covering it. Sienna, don't.
We froze, my hand on his. In five years of marriage, he'd never hidden anything from me. Never used that tone—sharp, almost panicked.
Damien, what's going on?
He held my gaze for a long moment. Then slowly, reluctantly, he removed his hand.
The folder was labeled in Uncle Marcus's handwriting: Confidential - MC Eyes Only.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Financial documents spilled across the desk. Shell companies. Offshore accounts. Transaction records showing millions moving through Zhao Technologies in patterns I recognized from every fraud case I'd ever prosecuted.
My blood turned to ice.
Damien, I whispered. What is this?
He didn't answer.
I flipped through page after page, my prosecutor's brain automatically cataloging evidence. Falsified earnings reports. Securities manipulation. Money laundering through subsidiaries that didn't actually exist.
And Uncle Marcus's signature on everything.
This is fraud, I said, my voice shaking. Massive, systematic fraud. Your company—Damien, this is my uncle's signature. What the hell is going on?
Damien stood slowly. When he spoke, his voice was empty. Cold in a way I'd never heard.
Who else have you told about this, Sienna?