Heirs Of Their Sins

Chapter 3- Project Revenant

I didn’t even wait for Tom to open the door when we pulled into the driveway

I shoved it myself, slammed it shut, and walked straight into the house. I heard him call, “Miss Sienna…” but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

My chest was still pounding from that damn meeting with Damian, my palms were sweaty, my whole body was buzzing with anger.

I kept replaying his stupid little smirk in my head, that lazy little grin like he’d already won. “This isn’t over,” he said.

Yeah, he was right about that, but not in the way he thought.

My heels were hitting the tiles too hard, echoing all through the hallway. I didn’t care. Let everyone hear me. Let the walls hear me.

I was halfway up the stairs when I heard her.

“Sienna?”

I turned my head. Violet. Standing at the bottom of the stairs in her school uniform, bag hanging off one shoulder. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying for hours. Behind her was Mom, arms folded, lips pressed so tight they were white.

Perfect. A whole family ambush.

I groaned. “What now?”

“Where were you?” Violet asked, voice shaky. “I was calling you, you didn’t pick up—”

“I was handling it,” I muttered, brushing past, heading for the living room. I didn’t have the energy for this.

“Handling it?” Mom’s voice cut like a knife. “Is that what you call storming into LexTech Tower and causing a scene in front of half the city?”

I spun on my heel. “So you heard.”

“Of course I heard!” she snapped. “The board called me. Security called me. Everyone knows what you did, Sienna. Everyone.”

“Good,” I shot back. “Let them know I’m not afraid of him.”

Mom’s eyes flashed. “Not afraid? Do you even know how dangerous that was? The Lexingtons are not a family you can play games with. They don’t forgive, and they don’t forget.”

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “They dragged Dad’s name through the mud. They’re saying he killed himself, Mom! They’re saying his death was an inside job. And you want me to sit quiet? Smile for the cameras while Evelyn Pierce spits on his grave?”

Violet’s voice cracked. “Sienna, stop. Please just stop. I can’t—” her lip trembled, “I can’t lose you too.”

That one line? It hit harder than anything Damian ever said.

I turned to her. “Vi—”

“No!” She shook her head violently, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Do you know what people at school are saying? They’re saying Dad was a fraud. They’re saying you’re going to end up like him. They’re laughing at us. And I can’t—I can’t bury another parent. I can’t bury my sister.”

Her voice broke completely, and she covered her face with her hands.

Mom pulled her close, holding her, but her gaze was locked on me. Cold, stern, afraid. “Your sister is right. We’ve lost enough. If you keep digging into this, it will destroy you too. I won’t watch that happen.”

I swallowed hard. My throat felt like it was closing. “So what? We just let them win? Let Evelyn and Damian rewrite history while we hide in this house?”

Mom’s face twisted. “Don’t you dare talk to me like I don’t care about your father. I loved that man more than life itself. But he’s gone. And if he were here, he would tell you the same thing I’m telling you right now—stop before they kill you too.”

The room went quiet. Violet sniffled against Mom’s chest, sobbing quietly.

My jaw clenched until it hurt. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. But when I looked at Violet’s little face, wet with tears, I couldn’t.

“Fine,” I muttered, voice rough. “I’ll stop.”

Mom exhaled like she’d been holding her breath forever. Violet looked up at me, relief flickering in her eyes.

But my chest? My chest felt like someone had buried a rock in it.

I turned and stormed upstairs.

---

Dad’s study smelled the same as always—old paper, leather, and that faint trace of his cologne that refused to fade even after all these years. It punched me right in the chest the second I walked in.

I hated it. How much it reminded me of him

I hated how much it made me miss him.

I pulled one of the boxes off the shelf and dropped it on the desk with a thud. If I was really going to stop, then fine. I’d pack it all up. That’s what Mom wanted. That’s what Violet needed.

One by one, I started folding things away—his old notes, his cufflinks, even his damn glasses. Every item felt heavier than it should. Like betrayal. Like I was erasing him piece by piece.

At one point, I found his watch. I stared at it for a long minute before forcing myself to throw it into the box.

“This is so stupid,” I muttered under my breath, but I kept going.

My phone buzzed against the desk.

Unknown number.

I frowned and picked it up.

“Check the black ledger. Second shelf.”

I blinked. My stomach twisted. My eyes shot around the room.

I typed back quickly: Who is this?

No reply.

“Great,” I whispered, but my hands were already shaking as I turned toward the shelves.

Second shelf. Black ledger.

There it was. Tucked neatly between two finance books like it had been waiting for me.

I pulled it down and placed it on the desk. My palms were sweaty. My heart wouldn’t slow down.

Slowly, I opened it.

Most of it was boring—meeting notes, long numbers, the kind of stuff Dad loved scribbling. I flipped through page after page, ready to toss it aside.

Then something slipped out.

A folded contract.

I froze.

My hands shook as I opened it carefully. The paper was worn, yellow at the edges, like it had been sitting there for years.

At the bottom were three signatures.

Charles Fairchild. My father.

Marcus Lexington. Damian’s father.

And a third one I didn’t recognize. The letters were smudged, almost illegible, like the ink had bled or the person signed in a hurry.

I glanced up at the top of the page.

Project Revenant.

That was it. No explanation, no details. Just that name.

“What the hell…” I whispered.

Before I could process it, another piece of paper slid out. No, not paper—a photograph.

It fluttered onto the desk face up.

My stomach dropped when I picked it up.

It was old, maybe four or five years ago. My dad stood on the left, smiling big, looking alive in a way that made my chest ache. Next to him was Marcus Lexington, his hand in his pocket, face as arrogant as ever.

And then there was the third man.

Except you couldn’t really see him. Big sunglasses covered half his face, a hat pulled low. The picture was faded, edges curled, the ink blurred. Whoever he was, he didn’t want to be recognized.

I squinted, holding it closer to the light, but it was useless.

My hands trembled.

An unknown number had led me here. To this.

A contract my father signed with the Lexingtons. A project with a creepy name. A photograph with a stranger hiding his face.

I sank into Dad’s chair, staring at the contract in one hand and the photo in the other. My mind was racing, but I couldn’t piece it together.

Why would Dad sign anything with Marcus Lexington? Why was there a third person? And why did it all look like a secret?

My throat burned.

“Dad…” my voice cracked, “…what were you into?”

I looked down at the papers again, my heart twisting. I thought about Violet crying, begging me to stop. I thought about Mom’s warning. I thought about the promise I’d just made.

But staring at that contract, that photo… I knew. I wasn’t done. I couldn’t be done.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.