Chapter 5: Media and Manipulation
1222 Words
The next morning, Sienna woke up in Julian’s penthouse, not quite remembering when she’d fallen asleep. The guest room was dimly lit with soft gray curtains, the sheets softer than anything she’d ever owned. For a few seconds, she could almost pretend this was her life—a life of silence, space, and comfort.
But then her phone buzzed.
One message from Harper: “We have a problem.”
Sienna sat up, her stomach tightening. She didn’t need coffee to feel fully awake.
Julian was already in the kitchen, dressed in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up, sipping coffee like he hadn't just become a trending topic.
He passed her a tablet without saying a word.
Sienna’s breath caught as she read the headline:
“Who Is Julian Blackwell’s Mystery Fiancée? Inside the Sudden Romance That’s Too Perfect.”
Photos from the gala splashed across the screen. Her in the emerald gown. Julian’s hand at her back. Them laughing on the dance floor.
Too perfect.
She scrolled down and saw a sub-article analyzing her background—or rather, the internet's best guess at it. “No verified family,” “unclear employment,” “possible debt history.”
Julian leaned against the counter. “They’re digging. Fast.”
“Isn’t this what we wanted?” she asked, though her voice wavered.
“Publicity? Yes,” he said. “But not this kind. Not speculation.”
Sienna handed the tablet back, jaw tight. “Then maybe next time, don’t hire someone whose life is Googleable.”
Julian didn’t flinch, but his voice lowered. “I chose you because you’re real. That’s what they’re responding to. That’s why it’s working.”
Sienna wasn’t sure if it was a compliment or a calculation.
Either way, it stung.
Later that day, she met Lexi for a wardrobe fitting. The stylists were prepping for another public event—a silent art auction Julian was sponsoring, ironically. Lexi, ever composed, handed Sienna an off-shoulder black velvet dress and a glass of water.
“They’re going to keep pushing, you know,” Lexi said. “The press. Madeleine. Everyone wants a crack in the story.”
Sienna stared at herself in the mirror. “Then maybe I shouldn’t be part of the story.”
Lexi paused. “Are you thinking of backing out?”
“I don’t know,” Sienna said. “It’s just… all of it is starting to feel like it’s closing in.”
Lexi sat beside her, gentler than usual. “It’s because it’s starting to feel real.”
Sienna looked at her. “You mean him?”
“I mean everything. You stepped into a lie, and now it’s shaping your truth. It happens to all of them.”
“All of who?”
Lexi smiled faintly. “The women who didn’t expect to stay.”
That evening, the art auction was held in a converted warehouse in Tribeca—exposed brick walls, suspended light fixtures, and walls lined with pieces that looked like they were painted in rage and ambition. The space buzzed with the elite of New York’s art world, and Sienna almost felt at home—until she remembered the price tags.
Julian was already there, speaking with a pair of collectors near one of the centerpieces. When he spotted her, something shifted in his posture. Not dramatically, but enough. His gaze softened.
She walked up to him with a practiced smile.
“You clean up well,” he said under his breath.
“Your stylist is a magician.”
They posed for photos, chatted with board members, and nodded through boring speeches. But beneath all of it was an undercurrent neither of them acknowledged: the tension of being watched, judged, and measured.
At one point, Sienna drifted toward a painting that reminded her of something she once sketched. Stark lines. A woman’s face in profile, half eroded, half defiant.
“You like it?” came a voice behind her.
She turned—and there was Madeleine.
Of course.
Sienna smiled tightly. “It’s beautiful.”
Madeleine sipped her wine. “Funny. Julian once said that about me.”
Sienna tilted her head. “Maybe you’re in the past now.”
“Oh, sweet girl,” Madeleine said, stepping closer. “You don’t know the rules yet. Men like Julian don’t fall. They choose. And they always return to the familiar.”
Sienna didn’t flinch. “If that were true, why am I here?”
Madeleine’s smile faded, just slightly. “Because you’re temporary. You’re convenient. And soon, you’ll be gone.”
Sienna opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Julian appeared behind her, resting a hand at the curve of her waist.
“Madeleine,” he said coolly. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Very,” she replied, eyes never leaving Sienna. “I was just admiring the art.”
“Then you’ll understand when I say we’re going to bid on that one,” he said, nodding at the piece behind her.
Sienna’s eyes widened slightly.
Madeleine’s smile stiffened. “Of course.”
She walked away without another word.
When she was gone, Sienna turned to Julian. “You’re buying it?”
He looked at her. “You were admiring it.”
“That’s not the same as—Julian, it’s probably ten thousand dollars.”
He shrugged. “It’ll look good in your gallery.”
Sienna blinked. “What gallery?”
“The one you’re going to open. After this is over.”
The words stunned her.
“You still want to help me? Even after…”
He stepped a little closer. “I don’t offer things I don’t intend to follow through on.”
Their eyes met, the air thickening between them.
Julian cleared his throat. “Let’s go make a show of it.”
They walked hand-in-hand to the auction floor.
Hours later, after the event, they were back at the penthouse. The city glowed beyond the glass walls, golden and eternal. But inside, something felt unsteady.
Sienna stood at the window, heels off, wine in hand. Julian approached from behind.
“You were brilliant tonight,” he said softly.
“Thanks,” she said. “Even with Madeleine trying to claw me open.”
“She won’t stop,” he admitted. “She’s threatened by what you represent.”
“And what do I represent?”
“A choice I never made for her.”
Sienna turned to face him. “Is that what this is still? A choice? Or am I just… a useful distraction?”
Julian stepped forward. “You think I don’t see you, Sienna?”
“I don’t know what you see,” she whispered. “Because I can’t tell if any of this is real.”
His voice dropped. “Neither can I.”
There was a pause.
Then he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a small gesture. Gentle. Disarming.
But to Sienna, it felt like lightning.
She took a step back. “This wasn’t supposed to get complicated.”
“It already is.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Julian. Not if I don’t know where I stand.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then finally, he said, “Then maybe it’s time we stop pretending.”
- Writer
