Sierra’s penthouse – same night
Sierra paced the length of her glass-walled living room like a caged animal, her towel slipping from her shoulder as she clutched her bruised cheek. Every nerve in her body vibrated with rage. Her reflection taunted her—swollen face, ruined makeup, pride shattered like cheap crystal.
Her gaze fell on her phone.
“Maxime Trent,” she whispered, venom curling around the name like smoke. “You owe me. And I need you now.”
With trembling fingers, she dialed his number.
The line rang twice before Maxime’s voice slurred in lazily.
“Mm… who is this?”
She didn’t waste time. “It’s Sierra.”
A pause. Then a slow, slick chuckle. “Ah… Sierra Scott. My tempestuous beauty. What a surprise. Calling me at this hour… you must be desperate.”
Her grip tightened on the phone. “I want Ethan to suffer.”
The tone of his voice sharpened with interest. “Now that’s the kind of call I like.”
“I mean it,” she snapped. “No matter the cost.”
The silence on the other end stretched for a second too long.
Then came the lewd hum of amusement. “No matter the cost, hmm? That’s quite the blank check, darling. You sure you’re ready to pay my price?”
Sierra closed her eyes for a heartbeat. Her pride screamed no. Her fury roared yes.
“I’m sure.”
A satisfied exhale slid through the speaker. “Good girl.”
She bit down the nausea that rose in her throat.
“What’s the plan?” she demanded. “Tell me what we’re doing to destroy that bastard.”
Maxime’s voice turned more serious now, still laced with that smug undertone. “Here’s the twist. The mysterious boss—your infamous Ethan’s shadowy backer—he’s no longer interested in Alice Morgan.”


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