Chapter 236: Sign it, Mrs. Kessler

"Now," Viktor said, his eyes moving slowly around the table, from face to pale face, "does anyone still object?"

Silence answered him. Not a single man at the table dared open his mouth.

"Sign it, Mrs. Kessler," Viktor said, turning to Sienna with a wide, easy smile and gently pushing the document across the linen toward her.

Sienna looked at him for a long moment, then reached out and picked up the pen resting beside the paper.

"Wait." His uncle’s voice cut through the quiet, steady despite the gun that had, until a moment ago, been pointed at his chest.

"Viktor. You can point guns at us and shut us up tonight. But this isn’t your father’s world anymore." He straightened in his seat, some of his composure returning now that the immediate threat had eased.

"The Kesslers have corporations. Funds. Banks. Investors. If word gets out that you used guns to force five Kessler branches into accepting a woman who has only been married into this family for a few months, how exactly do you plan to explain that to the outside world?"

Sienna’s hand paused over the paper, the pen hovering just above the line.

"Wait," she said. "He’s right, Viktor. Put the guns away."

At once, without hesitation, the men lowered their weapons and slid them back beneath their jackets, the room settling into a different kind of quiet.

"Looks like you’re not completely stupid," one of the clan heads said, a thin, humorless smile crossing his face.

Another leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "The five branches here have stood with the Kesslers for decades," he said.

"We gave money. Manpower. Whatever it took, when this family was at its weakest. And you think you can walk in after a few months of marriage and stand above all of us?" His eyes narrowed, moving over her slowly, deliberately.

"Without Viktor’s guns behind you, do you really think anyone at this table recognizes your authority? If you want our respect, earn it."

"Withdraw those papers now," another added, "and you might still save yourself some embarrassment."

Viktor said nothing, watching the exchange unfold with a careful, unreadable stillness, his eyes moving between Sienna and the men speaking against her.

In the corner, Aria had gone quiet too, the popcorn forgotten in her hand, leaning forward slightly, her eyes sharp with keen, close attention, waiting to see exactly what Sienna would do next.

Sienna set the pen down slowly, deliberately, without a hint of hurry. She reached instead for a slim leather folder resting by her elbow, one she had brought to the table herself and set aside until now, untouched through all the shouting.

"Are you done?" she asked, glancing around at the men still watching her. No one answered. "Then it’s my turn."

She opened the folder and pulled out the first sheet, laying it flat on the table in front of her, and began, unhurried, her voice calm and clear enough to reach every corner of the room.

"Ken. One hundred twenty thousand dollars, repairs on your private yacht." She slid the paper aside and pulled another.

"Lionel. Four hundred sixty thousand for a private estate. Another one hundred ninety thousand for private chefs. All of it billed to the family." She kept going, laying paper after paper across the white linen, the pile growing steadily between the candles.

"And then there’s the money set aside for emergencies." She paused there, letting her eyes travel slowly across the table, meeting each face in turn.

"The money meant for those emergencies passed straight through the fund you managed, and somehow ended up sitting in private accounts instead."

"I can explain," Marcel said quickly, half rising from his seat.

"Shut up," Sienna said, not even glancing his way. "I’m not finished." She pulled the next sheet free.

"Private wineries, personal legal fees, not to forget consulting fees for firms with no actual projects behind them at all, not one." She set the last paper down and folded her hands neatly on top of the stack.

"Five of your seven signatures are on that opposition letter." A small, thin smile touched her mouth. "And four of your books don’t add up."

For a moment, the room sat in stunned silence, every man at the table staring at the papers spread out before her, then at her, then back again.

"So you’ve been investigating us this whole time?" one of the clan heads said, his voice tight with disbelief.

Of course she had. There was nothing, in the end, that the invisible shadow hacker could not find, once she set her mind to looking.

"The first day I got access to the finances," Sienna said, leaning back slightly in her chair, "I had the last three years of spending pulled. I just wanted to see exactly who the Kessler money had been keeping all this time afloat." Her smile widened, just a fraction, cool and even.

"I didn’t expect it to be this entertaining."

"You think you can use this to threaten us?" Viktor’s uncle said, his voice rising, though something in it had already begun to crack.

"Weren’t you the one who brought up the press?" Sienna said, tilting her head slightly, almost thoughtful. "I like that idea, actually. Tomorrow, I could send all of this to the press myself." She let the thought settle, unhurried.

"I’d love to see which story runs bigger. Viktor pulling guns at a family meeting, or five Kessler branches spending family money on yachts, private estates, personal chefs, and skimming from an emergency fund meant for people who actually needed it." She paused, her eyes moving slowly down the table.

"We could also talk about bribes, while we’re at it. I know things work a little differently in the mafia world, no real legal rules to worry about there. But this is a registered, legal business too. And legal businesses have legal consequences."

"If you make that public," one of the heads said, his face pale now, "you’ll disgrace the Kessler name too."

"You weren’t worried about disgracing the family when you took the money," Sienna said. "Now you’re only worried because people might find out?"

"Don’t get too cocky, Sienna," the uncle said, his jaw tight.