Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface
1232 Words
Sienna didn’t sleep that night.
She lay awake in the guest room, staring at the ceiling in the dim hush of the penthouse. Julian’s final words echoed over and over in her head.
“Then maybe it’s time we stop pretending.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant. Was he suggesting they end the arrangement—or that it was time to admit what was growing between them?
Either way, the line they’d drawn had blurred. And that terrified her.
By morning, the penthouse was quiet. Too quiet. Sienna walked barefoot into the kitchen, expecting to find Julian in his usual place—coffee in hand, phone in the other. But he was gone.
Instead, there was a note on the counter in his clipped, elegant handwriting:
“Meeting downtown. Take the day. —J”
No warmth. No hint. Just black ink on white paper.
She hated how it made her feel: abandoned. Uncertain. Unseen.
By noon, Harper had called twice. The press was still circulating rumors, but the latest gossip wasn’t about the authenticity of their relationship—it was about the emotion behind it.
Photos from the auction were trending: Julian reaching for Sienna’s hand. Sienna smiling up at him, unaware of the camera. Him bidding on a painting for her.
#RealOrRuthless? #BlackwellAndCarter #PowerCoupleOrPRStunt?
The media didn’t know the truth.
But maybe Sienna didn’t either.
She left the penthouse in sunglasses and a coat too warm for the day. She took the subway. Not a car. Not a driver. She needed normal, even if it was noisy and crowded and smelled like old metal and city breath.
She ended up back in Brooklyn—her neighborhood. Her world.
The corner café was still there, with the chalkboard menu she used to sketch on when she couldn’t afford coffee. She ordered a cup and sat by the window, notebook open, pencil moving before her thoughts could catch up.
She sketched the auction piece. Then Julian’s hand. Then her own face, split down the center—half in shadow, half exposed.
“Sienna?”
She looked up.
Standing by her table was someone she hadn’t seen in a while—Liam, her ex. They’d dated for a year before he moved to Chicago and she fell behind on rent. He looked the same: charmingly disheveled, jeans with paint smudges, an old camera slung around his neck.
“Wow,” she said, stunned. “Hi.”
“Didn’t expect to see you back here. Thought you ran off to billionaire land.”
She gave a tight smile. “Just… taking a break.”
He sat down without asking. “So it’s true then? You and Julian Blackwell?”
“It’s complicated.”
Liam chuckled. “That’s rich-people speak for ‘yes.’”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not like that. It’s just… messy.”
He looked at her, more serious now. “You okay?”
It was a simple question, and yet it undid her.
Sienna blinked fast. “I thought I was. But now I’m not sure if I’m living my life or just performing in someone else’s.”
Liam leaned back. “Well, don’t lose the version of you that existed before all this. That version mattered too.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I needed that.”
Back at the penthouse that evening, Julian still wasn’t home.
Or so she thought.
When she stepped into the kitchen, she found him at the far end of the living room, by the windows, still in his suit, drink in hand, sleeves rolled up, eyes on the city.
The tension in the air was thick.
“I saw the headlines,” she said.
He didn’t turn around. “Which one? There were about fifty.”
“The ones where we look in love.”
Finally, he turned. “They’re getting smarter.”
“Or maybe we’re getting worse at pretending.”
Julian set down his drink. “You saw Liam today.”
Sienna’s eyes widened. “How—?”
“Your name was trending again. Someone posted a picture of you in that café. He was in the frame.”
Sienna folded her arms. “So you’re having me followed now?”
“I have people who pay attention. That’s not the same thing.”
“Feels the same.”
Julian stepped closer. “Did you tell him everything?”
“No. I told him it was complicated.”
“And is it?”
She nodded. “Yes. Because I don’t know what we are anymore.”
Julian ran a hand through his hair. “Neither do I.”
There was a long silence.
Then he said quietly, “You made me feel something I wasn’t ready to feel again.”
She met his eyes. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?”
“Because people like me ruin good things. And you… you’re good.”
Sienna took a shaky breath. “You don’t get to decide what I am. Or what I want.”
He stepped even closer now. “What do you want, Sienna?”
She didn’t answer right away.
Then, softly, “I want the lie to become real. But only if you want that too.”
The silence stretched between them like a held breath.
Then Julian cupped her cheek, his touch hesitant but electric.
“I do,” he whispered.
And then—finally—he kissed her.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t performative.
It was raw. Honest. Like the version of them they’d both been too afraid to admit existed.
The kiss deepened. His hand slid to her waist, her fingers tangled in his shirt. When they broke apart, both were breathing hard.
He rested his forehead against hers. “This changes everything.”
She smiled. “Good.”
Later that night, after hours spent in whispered conversation and quiet laughter curled up on the couch, Julian’s phone buzzed.
He frowned, checked the screen—and froze.
Sienna sat up. “What is it?”
He stared at the phone for a long moment. “Madeleine.”
Sienna’s heart sank. “What now?”
Julian looked up, expression unreadable. “She just leaked something.”
He handed her the phone.
Sienna read the headline:
“Leaked: Sienna Carter’s Past Debts—Is Julian Blackwell’s Fiancée a Gold Digger?”
Below was a PDF of loan records, screenshots from a debt collector’s email, and even an old eviction notice with her name on it.
Her stomach dropped.
Her world—the one she’d worked so hard to keep sacred—was being dragged into the light.
Julian sat beside her, face hard. “I’ll have this removed. She crossed a line.”
Sienna shook her head, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand. That’s not just my past—it’s my present. I’ve never hidden that from you.”
“I know,” he said. “And it changes nothing.”
She looked at him, tears stinging her eyes. “It changes everything. Because now the world thinks I used you. That I’m nothing.”
Julian grabbed her hands. “Don’t ever say that. You are not nothing.”
But the look in her eyes said otherwise.
For Sienna, the fairytale had just cracked wide open—and the reality beneath was too sharp to ignore.
- Writer
