Chapter 234: Who told you to do that?

"The head of finance will bring the Kessler accounts from the past few years to the study," he said. "Since the company is yours now, you can start learning to run it."

Sienna blinked. "Today? That fast?"

"Are you scared now, genius?" Viktor teased, a small smirk tugging at his mouth.

Sienna’s brow furrowed at him, a flat, unimpressed look settling over her face, though she said nothing to argue the point.

"Starting today," Viktor went on, his tone turning serious again, "you’ll be in charge of the family’s finances too. Anything you want, tell the head of finance, and he’ll get it for you." He paused, his jaw tightening slightly.

"And I’ll look into Marcel. I have a feeling someone got to him, told him to keep his mouth shut about who you really are, so he went running to the clan members instead, using it as leverage another way." He reached out and took her hand gently. "You have nothing to worry about. He won’t expose who you are."

"I’m not worried at all," Sienna said. "Sooner or later, I’ll have to face him anyway."

"Good," Viktor said. He glanced toward the door where Marcus stood waiting. "Marcus and I are going to go out for a spin. Call me when you need me, alright?"

Sienna nodded once.

Viktor leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, brief and warm, before turning and heading upstairs to change, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Sienna stood there a moment, watching him go, and then turned to look at Aria.

"You knew this was going to be war," Sienna said, "when you asked Viktor to sign off the companies to me."

Aria looked back at her, wide-eyed and innocent, a picture of a woman who had no idea what could possibly be meant by such a question.

"As I said before," she said, "no one deserves any part of that empire more than you do." A small, wicked smile crept in at the edges.

"And yes. I also wanted to piss off some people in the Kessler clan. The ones who looked down on my father so much that it drove him to start doing everything and anything for money, just to prove himself to them."

Sienna studied her for a moment, then let out a small, tired laugh, shaking her head. "I don’t mind dealing with a few old fools," she said, "if it gets them off Viktor’s back for good. And gives you somewhere to put all that anger of yours."

Just then, the head of security appeared at the end of the hall, and behind him, a moment later, the head of finance, a stack of folders held carefully under one arm.

"Great," Sienna said, straightening. "Let’s head to the study."

Inside the study, the head of finance laid out the folders across the wide desk, arranging them neatly.

"Ma’am, these are the family’s financial records from the past few years," he said.

Sienna opened the first file, her eyes scanning down the columns, and paused. "Marcel was thrown out," she said, looking up at him. "And he still has access to the Kessler family accounts?"

"Yes," the man said. "He’s always had access to the family accounts."

"Cut him off," Sienna said, already reaching for the next folder.

The man hesitated. "But he’s still family."

Sienna looked up at him, her expression flat, steady. "Did you forget what Viktor said?"

"Yes, ma’am." He straightened quickly, adjusting his tone. "I’ll take care of it."

"And pull every personal expense from the last three years," Sienna added. "I want to see all of it." She leaned back slightly in the chair, one hand resting against the desk.

"In five days, they’re coming to decide whether I’m qualified to run the Kessler family empire, aren’t they?" A small, sharp smile crossed her face. "Then I should see whether they’re qualified to question me at all."

The man nodded, gathering his things quickly, and walked out.

Aria had been leaning against the doorframe the whole time, watching, arms crossed, a look of half-amused admiration on her face.

"Remind me never to cross you again," she said. "You look terrifying, girlfriend. And I like it." She pushed off from the doorframe and walked further into the room. "Look at you, in action. You almost forgot about your mother. And your, hmm, father."

Sienna paused for a second at that, the reminder landing quiet and heavy somewhere beneath all the paperwork, before she let it settle and pushed it gently aside, back into the corner of her mind where it could wait its turn.

"Come here," she said instead, patting the chair beside her. "Help me look into the accounts."

"Gladly," Aria said, already crossing the room, dropping into the seat with a small bounce, pulling the nearest folder toward herself with obvious enthusiasm.

—

Across town, Marcel sat alone in a dim booth toward the back of a small restaurant, his phone pressed hard against his ear, his knee bouncing under the table.

Somewhere in the last few days, he had managed to speak with someone, a voice on the other end of a very careful, very quiet call, someone who claimed they could help bring his mother back to him. It had felt, in that moment, like the first real hope he had held in weeks.

Threatening Viktor over the phone the night before had cost him more than he expected. Within hours, a visitor had come to find him, silent and unannounced, slipping into his apartment while he slept, standing over him when he woke with a start.

He could not tell, even now, whether it had been a man or a woman, the figure had kept so still, so featureless in the dark. He had never been so afraid in his life.

Whatever courage had pushed him to threaten Viktor drained straight out of him that night, and with it, any plan he might have had to go directly to Don Konstantin, to tell him that Sienna could be his real daughter. That plan had died the moment the figure appeared in his doorway.

And there was another reason it had died, one that sat heavier in his chest than the fear itself. He had managed to get his hands on a photograph of Helena, an old one, grainy and creased at the corners, and the moment he saw it he understood immediately, without needing anyone to tell him.

The resemblance between Helena and Sienna was undeniable. It had settled something in him he did not want settled.

So now he needed another way. Speaking to his uncle had not been enough. Words alone would not bring his mother home. He needed money, real money, enough to satisfy whoever was holding her, wherever she was being kept.

He pulled his card from his wallet and slid it across the table to the man sitting across from him, someone who had promised, for the right price, to arrange her return.

The man swiped the card through a small reader.

"I’m sorry, sir," the man said, glancing up. "This card was declined."

"What?" Marcel’s jaw tightened. He reached into his wallet again, pulling out a second card. "Try this one."

The man swiped it. Waited. Shook his head. "This one’s declined too."

"Run it again," Marcel said, his voice rising, sharp with a growing panic he could not quite control.

The man tried once more. "Still declined."

"How is that possible?" Marcel muttered, more to himself than to the man across from him, his hand already pulling his phone from his pocket, dialing his bank.

The call connected almost instantly.

"Hello? Mr. Marcel," a calm, even voice said on the other end. "I’m calling to let you know that, effective today, your access to all Kessler family accounts has been revoked."

Marcel’s stomach dropped. "Who told you to do that?" he said, his voice tight.

"Mrs. Kessler," the voice replied.

"Hello? Hello?" Marcel shouted into the phone, but the line had already gone dead, the silence on the other end final and complete.

He sat there for a long moment, his phone still pressed against his ear, his chest rising and falling too fast. Then, without a word to the man across from him, he shoved back from the table, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out into the street.

He went straight to his uncle.

Within the hour, his uncle had already made the calls, and five out of the seven remaining clan heads had agreed, reluctantly and with a great deal of grumbling, to gather for a meeting.