Kneel, Ex-Husband: I Am The True Heires

[Sienna Vince] "Pass me the rescue shears, Marcos. The smoke is blocking the door," I ordered, adjusting the strap of the air regulator on my face. "Sienna, the structure is giving way!" Brett’s voice came through the radio frequency. "Get out of there!" "There are two victims trapped in suite 504. I'm not leaving them," I replied immediately, gripping the tool with both hands. At twenty-eight years old, as a paramedic rescue worker for the emergency corps, I knew by heart the sound of wood creaking before a collapse. I advanced through the flame-engulfed hallway, feeling the boiling air against the exposed skin of my neck. Three years of marriage to David Chase had taught me the discipline of silence. I reached the door of suite 504. I raised my boot and delivered a sharp blow near the lock. The frame gave way on the second impact, opening into a cloud of white smoke. "Rescue team! Identify yourselves!" I shouted, entering with the tactical flashlight held high. Visibility was almost zero, but the smell of fine alcohol penetrated even through the filter of my mask. In the center of the room, on the scorched carpet, two figures remained embraced. "Sienna!" a familiar male voice shouted, breathless with coughing. I froze in my tracks. The light from my helmet illuminated the scene. David, my husband, the celebrated CEO of Group McDonnell and a public defender of traditional morality, was standing next to the bed. Beside him, clinging to his chest, a blonde-haired woman held tightly to his waist. Both wore only bathrobes, unbuttoned at chest level. The woman was Diana Apex, the billionaire heiress of the Apex Group. David showed no panic. He made no attempt to cover himself or let go of Diana. He stared straight at me through my helmet's visor, calmly adjusting the lapel of his bathrobe. "You're just in time," David said, raising his voice over the crackling of the flames. "Sienna, take off your oxygen mask and give it to Diana. Now!" I remained motionless under the weight of the equipment. "David, what the hell are you doing here with her? What are you talking about?" "Don't question me right now," he stated sternly, pointing to the woman who was coughing against his shoulder. "Diana just negotiated a multi-million-dollar alliance with my company. Her life is far too valuable for our project. You're a rescue professional, Sienna. You're used to breathing smoke in extreme situations. You know how to endure it." "Used to it?" I muttered, feeling a bitter lump in my throat. "It's my personal survival gear, David. If I take it off with this level of toxicity, my lungs will collapse." "Enough with the selfish drama!" he snapped at me, stepping forward and taking my arm in a firm grip. "Diana cannot inhale this junk. Do your job and hand over the respirator." Diana looked up, showing me makeup-covered eyes that were perfectly dry. "Please, Sienna... think of David's alliance." The creaking of the ceiling cut off any reply. A concrete and wooden beam engulfed in flames broke free directly above David's head. My body reacted on instinct. I dropped the tool, lunged at him, and pushed him with all my weight toward the adjacent corridor. The impact of the structure fell squarely on my left leg, crushing my leg against the floor. A scream of pure pain escaped from between my teeth. I felt the bone give way and the heat of the glowing metal pierce through my skin. "Sienna!" Marcos shouted from the hallway. "Get them out first!" I ordered, choking on the hot air while removing the burning debris from my leg with my bare hands. "Get them out now!" Marcos entered and dragged David's body toward the emergency exit, while I crawled, helpless and bleeding. David didn't even turn his head to see if I could stand up; his hand remained clutched to Diana's, carefully guiding her down the stairs. The pain made me close my eyes for a couple of minutes until the backup paramedics loaded me onto the ambulance stretcher, cutting the uniform pants to bandage the open wound on my calf. "You have a fracture and burns," the duty doctor told me as he applied antiseptic. "You must go to the hospital immediately." "Give me a few minutes," I asked, looking toward the crowd of reporters surrounding David. I saw him in the distance. He was standing next to Diana, surrounded by news cameras and lights. He was adjusting the thermal blanket over her shoulders while speaking in a grave voice to the microphones, projecting the image of the corporate hero who had protected his business partner. My phone, resting on the stretcher, remained completely silent for two hours. Not a single call. Not a single text message. Not a single glance toward the ambulance where his wife lay bleeding. I refused the ambulance transport. Limping, relying on a folding cane I pulled from my locker, I walked back toward our apartment. Every step sent an electric shock from my ankle to my hip, but the icy fury building in my chest outweighed any physical pain. I arrived at the door of our house at 1:30 in the morning. I took the key out of my pocket, but stopped just before inserting it into the lock. From the other side of the door came low laughter and brazen tones of voice. "David, you really are relentless," Diana's soft voice said, accompanied by the clinking of two crystal glasses. "You left your little paramedic in that disaster without looking back." "She knows how to take care of herself, Diana," David replied, laughing softly. "Sienna is trained for sacrifice." I rested my hand against the hallway wall. My knuckles turned white from the pressure. A burning rage ignited in my chest as I listened to them continuing to laugh together on the other side of the door. A little over 10 minutes later, I finally turned the metal handle and pushed the front door open. The frame let out a dry creak as it opened, interrupting the laughter inside. David was standing by the marble kitchen counter, wearing his black pajama pants. He held a cast-iron skillet while putting the finishing touches on a Filet Mignon plated with herb butter. Beside him, sitting on a high stool, Diana wore only David's white button-down shirt, unbuttoned halfway down her chest. She had a glass of red wine in her hand and her legs crossed in a carefree manner. Diana set her glass on the counter and looked me up and down, locking her gaze on the soot stains on my face and the tight bandage covering my uniform pants cut off at calf height. "Sienna, you're back," Diana said, running a hand through her messy blonde hair. "We thought you'd stay at the hospital after what happened at the hotel." David didn't even set down the spatula. He looked up at me, frowning as he noticed the aluminum cane supporting my weight. "You're dirtying the entryway wood," David said, pointing to the floor with his chin. "And you could have let us know you were coming. Diana needed to eat something to recover her spirits after the shock of the fire." I tightened my fingers around the grip of the cane. The pain in my left leg throbbed fiercely with every second, but I kept my body straight. "Are you cooking for her?" I said, keeping my voice low and firm. "In three years of marriage, you never touched a skillet in this house. You said a man's role was to be served and that the woman should be in charge of cooking and cleaning." David slammed the spatula onto the counter with a dull thud. "Don't compare basic hospitality toward a business partner with ordinary domestic chores," David replied, wiping his hands with a cloth. "Diana is the heiress of the Apex Group. She closed a key financial deal for my company tonight. She deserves the best possible treatment." "You were in a luxury suite, wearing only bathrobes," I said, taking a faltering step toward the living room. "Tell me the truth, David. What were you doing half-naked with her in that hotel?”