Chapter 8: The Return
1351 Words
Juliette's breath caught as she gazed out the window, the shadows stretching long across the driveway. She couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at her, an ominous feeling that Sienna would return one day—and when she did, she would unearth the buried truth about that night. The life Juliette had worked so hard to build would be ripped away from her, leaving her exposed and vulnerable, forced to return to the grim reality she had once escaped. A life of privilege, of luxury—gone in an instant.
The thought chilled her to the bone. No. She couldn’t let that happen. She would not let it. Not ever.
As Damien escorted her back to the mansion after their dinner, the weight of her thoughts pushed her to act. Her voice was soft, almost innocent, as she turned to him. "Damien, how about coming inside for a cup of tea?"
He paused, glancing at her with a quiet shake of his head. "No, thank you. I have some matters to handle."
Her heart sank. Juliette pressed her lips together, her fingers curling into the fabric of her coat, feigning a tremble. "But I’m afraid of being here all alone. Wouldn’t you stay and keep me company?"
His eyes softened, but only slightly. "I’ll call Cassandra to stay with you," he said, reaching for his phone.
Juliette’s eyes widened in panic, her chest tightening. "No! Please, don’t! I only feel safe when you’re here with me," she pleaded, her voice quivering.
Damien paused, his gaze locking with hers for a long moment. His expression was unreadable. "Unfortunately, I truly have some urgent work to attend to. Perhaps next time," he said, his tone gentle, almost apologetic. "Rest well. Good night."
Juliette's heart thudded in her chest, disappointment flooding her. Her lips twisted bitterly, but she forced a smile. "Alright then."
She watched as Damien’s car pulled away, his figure fading into the night. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. One day, she thought, I’ll make him mine. He won’t be able to resist me. I’ll become the woman every other woman envies.
Meanwhile, Sienna had spent the day on her feet, visiting store after store with Alisha. The clock ticked relentlessly, and by 4:30 PM, Sienna decided to call it a day. She planned to pick up her son and head to her father's house—a visit she knew would be both bitter and sweet.
Back at the Tillman Residence, preparations were underway for Sienna’s return. Franklin had personally arranged for a special dinner to honor his daughter’s visit, ensuring that her favorite dishes were made. But Amanda had other plans.
"Only what Vanessa likes," Amanda instructed the cook coldly, dismissing any thought of accommodating Sienna’s preferences.
As the maid hesitated, she spoke up. "Madam, the Old Master mentioned that prawns are Miss Sienna’s favorite. Should I go ahead and cook them?"
"No!" Amanda snapped, her voice tight with venom. "Prepare them, but make them so spicy that she regrets eating them. Let her know her place."
The maid nodded nervously, rushing to obey.
Amanda's mind was clouded with suspicion. She knew Sienna didn’t return home just for dinner—there was something more to it. Her father's wealth, the billions he was sitting on... She couldn’t let Sienna have any part of it. Not as long as Amanda had a say.
At that moment, Vanessa entered the room, her expression one of quiet annoyance. "Mom, you know Sienna’s coming for dinner, right?"
"Your father insisted," Amanda grumbled, glancing up at her daughter. "I couldn’t stop him."
Vanessa’s lips curled into a subtle sneer. "It’s been five years. I wonder what she’s like now."
"She didn’t even finish college," Amanda scoffed. "I bet her life’s been a mess. Now she’s back, probably to claim her share of the inheritance."
Vanessa’s eyes flashed with determination. "Mom, you can’t let her take what’s mine. Everything Dad owns belongs to me. It always has."
Amanda placed a reassuring hand on her daughter’s shoulder, her smile cold. "Don’t worry. She won’t get a dime."
"I’m going upstairs," Vanessa said, her voice sharp with resolve. "I’m going to put on my new dress and make sure Sienna knows exactly where she stands."
In the back of the taxi, Sienna held her son close, his small head resting against her shoulder. Her heart swelled with both love and regret as she watched him, so innocent, so unaware of the complexities around him. She had always wished he had been born into a loving, stable home—a place where he could grow up without secrets, without shame.
And yet, she couldn’t shake the irony. Her son would be viewed as an outsider by his own family, a stranger in his grandfather’s home.
Sienna pressed a kiss to his forehead. "That’s my sweet boy," she whispered.
As the taxi pulled into the driveway of the Tillman Residence, she couldn’t help but notice the way Franklin stood by the door, almost eager. When the cab stopped, he moved closer, his eyes wide as he saw Sienna step out with her son in tow.
Franklin blinked in disbelief. "How… how old is he?" he murmured, staring at the boy, who seemed to be about four or five years old. "Could it be…?"
Sienna’s heart dropped as she met her father’s gaze. The years had not been kind to him. His hair had grayed, his posture had slouched with age, but his eyes—those eyes—held a mixture of disbelief and hope.
As Sienna stepped forward, holding her son’s hand, she looked up at Franklin with a bittersweet smile. "I’m back, Dad. Elliot, say hello to your grandpa."
"Hello, Grandpa," Elliot greeted, his innocent voice tugging at Franklin’s heart.
Grandpa? Franklin stumbled back, his breath catching in his throat. "This is… my grandson?" He looked from Sienna to Elliot, his mind racing. "How—how old is he really?"
"Three and a half," Sienna answered, choosing not to mention his actual age to avoid questions. She knew better than to let any details slip.
Franklin’s hands trembled as he reached down, his heart breaking. "And his father?" he asked carefully.
Sienna hesitated for only a moment. "I’ve been raising Elliot alone since he was born."
"Grandpa," Elliot added innocently, his eyes shining with trust. "I’ve only ever lived with Mom."
The words struck like a punch to Franklin’s gut. He had failed his daughter, failed as a father and a grandfather. How had it come to this?
Tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them away, trying to smile. "I’ll make it up to you."
Sienna’s expression softened, but she kept her composure. "Don’t worry, Dad. We’ve been fine on our own."
As Franklin hugged Elliot, the boy’s strong arms wrapped around his neck, and Franklin marveled at his grandson’s healthy build.
But when Amanda entered the room, her eyes immediately landed on Elliot, and her smile froze. She blinked, her face tightening.
"Who’s this child?" she asked, her voice trembling with restrained shock.
"Amanda," Franklin beamed, "this is Sienna’s son. She had him while living abroad."
Amanda’s face turned pale. "What?!" Her eyes darted from Sienna to the child, her mind spinning with thoughts of inheritance, of what this boy might mean for her future plans.
"Mom," Sienna greeted her coldly.
Sienna’s response was quick, sharp. "You never mentioned you had a child. Who’s his father?" Amanda asked with a sickening sweetness that failed to disguise her true intentions.
"Amanda," Franklin snapped, "enough. Sienna’s raising him alone."
Elliot, ever the innocent one, tilted his head. "Who are you?"
Amanda’s smile turned thin and tight. "I’m your grandmother."
"But Mom said my grandmother is no longer alive. How can you be my grandma?" Elliot asked, his simple question hanging in the air like a loaded g*n.
The room fell into silence.
Amanda’s eyes hardened. "How rude! Sienna, you should teach him some manners."
Sienna’s voice was icy as she stepped forward, placing herself between Amanda and her son. "My son’s behavior is none of your concern."
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