Heirs Of Their Sins

Chapter 1- Sienna

The car rolled to a stop in front of LexTech Tower.

I didn’t wait for Tom to come around and open the door like he always did. I shoved it open myself and climbed out.

“Ten minutes,” I told him, slamming the door.

He leaned forward from the driver’s seat. “Ma’am—”

“Ten minutes,” I cut him off, not giving him the chance to argue.

I tilted my head back and looked up at the building. Fifty floors of glass and steel stabbing into the sky, like it wanted to remind everyone who owned the city.

The Lexingtons loved to show off. Money, power, control—it dripped from the very walls.

My heels clicked hard against the marble steps as I walked up. People stopped. Some whispered. Some pretended not to notice. But I saw them. I always saw them. Everyone noticed a Fairchild, whether they admitted it or not.

The glass doors slid open, and I stepped into the lobby.

It was cold, shiny, and expensive. Marble floors polished so well I could see my reflection. Giant LED screens played LexTech ads: war drones, new security systems, sleek cars, all screaming we’re better than you.

The air smelled like coffee from the café in the corner, mixed with expensive cologne from the men rushing past in their suits.

And right in the center sat the receptionist. Blonde hair pinned so tight it probably hurt, red lips stretched into a smile that looked fake from a mile away.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. Do you have an appointment?” she asked, voice polite but stiff.

“I don’t need one,” I said flatly. “Damian Lexington. Now.”

Her smile froze. “I’m afraid Mr. Lexington is in a meeting.”

“Then end it.”

Her fake smile twitched. “Ma’am, if you’ll please—”

“I said now.” My voice carried, sharp enough to cut through the chatter of the lobby. A few employees turned, whispering to each other. Good. Let them talk.

The receptionist’s eyes narrowed. She reached under the desk and pressed a button like she’d been waiting for this. Her smirk came back just before two men in black suits appeared from the side hallway.

One stepped forward, towering over me. “Ma’am, you’ll need to come with us.”

I tilted my head, meeting his stare. “Go ahead. Touch me. Then I’ll own this building by morning and you’ll be out of a job.”

He froze, clearly not used to being spoken to that way.

The other stepped in front of the elevator, blocking it with his chest. “This is private property. Mr. Lexington doesn’t see anyone without clearance.”

I walked up to him, slow and steady. My heels clicked with each step until I was right in front of him. He smelled of aftershave and nerves.

“I don’t need clearance.” I leaned in close, my voice low. “I’m a Fairchild.”

That name hit like a bullet. His jaw twitched. The other guard shifted. Of course they knew it. Everybody did.

I smirked. “Now move. Or tomorrow’s headline won’t be about Damian Lexington. It’ll be about how his security put their hands on me in front of half of New York.”

The receptionist’s smug face dropped. She shifted in her chair, clearly unsure now. “Fine,” she muttered, trying to sound in control. “Five minutes. But if he throws you out—”

“That’s his problem,” I cut in, brushing past.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside. The guards didn’t follow. Smart move.

The ride up felt too damn slow. The numbers lit up one by one. My reflection stared back at me in the steel doors: sleek hair, sharp suit, face calm. On the outside I looked collected. Inside, I was fire.

Evelyn Pierce’s smug face burned in my head. I could see her laughing when she wrote it. The Times headline screaming at me again.

New York’s Untouchable Dynasty: How the Fairchilds Keep Winning—Even When Blood Is Spilled.

She called me a criminal. She dragged my father into it. Said his death wasn’t even real. Said it was an inside job.

I thought of Violet, her wide eyes filled with tears this morning when she shoved the paper into my hands. I thought of Dad, his smile, his voice saying, “Power is easy to gain. Respect must be earned.” And now his memory was being chewed up in the press like it was nothing.

And Damian. Damian Lexington, the one who signed off, the one who paid for it.

My nails dug into my palm. By the time the elevator dinged, I was ready to tear him apart.

The hallway was silent, too silent. My heels echoed against the polished floor. At the end of it, a gold plate gleamed:

Damian Lexington – CEO.

I didn’t knock. I shoved the door open.

And froze.

Damian sat behind his desk like a king. And in his lap was a woman, kissing him like her life depended on it.

Not Evelyn Pierce.

Another one.

Her lipstick was smeared all over her face and his. Her hands clawed at his jacket. She jumped like she’d been electrocuted when she saw me. Her eyes went wide.

She scrambled off his lap, tugging her dress down, cheeks flaming red. She rushed past me so fast she nearly tripped.

I didn’t move out of her way. I stood tall and let her squeeze past, head bowed, shame dripping off her.

The door clicked shut.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Damian leaned back in his chair like nothing had happened, like I hadn’t just caught him cheating. He wiped his mouth with his thumb and smirked. “Well. This is a surprise.”

I walked forward and dropped the folded newspaper on his desk.

He glanced at it, then at me. “So you’ve read it.”

“You think this is a joke?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

He tilted his head, smirk still plastered on his face. “I think Evelyn has a gift. People pay attention when she talks.”

My jaw tightened. “She called my family criminals. She said my father’s death was an inside job. She made us look like some serial killer family that's being observed. And you—” I jabbed a finger at him—“paid to make it the headline.”

“I don’t control Evelyn,” he said lazily. “She’s her own person. You know that.”

I almost laughed. “That’s funny, because the editor told me you’re a shareholder now. Which means you approved it.”

His smirk widened. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, eyes gleaming like he was enjoying this. “Even if I did, so what? Maybe the truth stings. Maybe the Fairchilds are finally being seen for what they are.”

My stomach twisted. “Careful, Damian.”

He raised his brows. “Did I touch a nerve?”

I slammed my palms on his desk so hard the papers scattered. “You’re going to make her take it down.”

He leaned back, folding his arms like I’d just told him a bedtime story. “You barged into my building, past my security, into my office, and you expect me to run after Evelyn like a little puppy? Not happening.”

“Then I’ll ruin you.”

He chuckled, low and amused. “Ruin me? And how exactly would you do that, princess?”

I pointed at the door. “The woman who just ran out. She's definitely not Evelyn. Evelyn is usually barking orders at her fellow colleague around this time of the day. Imagine tomorrow’s front page: Damian Lexington, New York’s golden boy, caught with his mistress in his office.”

His smirk slipped, just slightly.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

The air between us thickened. Neither of us blinked. His jaw flexed, his fist curled on the desk.

“You think you scare me?” he said, voice low.

“No.” My voice was steady, almost soft. “But I think the truth does.”

For once, he didn’t have a comeback ready. His eyes flickered, his chest rose and fell faster than before.

He dragged a hand down his face and exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.” I straightened my jacket, picked up my bag. “Don’t keep me waiting, Damian. Or I promise you the headlines will write themselves.”

I walked toward the door.

My hand was on the knob when his voice came again.

“This isn’t over.”

I froze but didn’t turn.

“No,” I said, my voice firm. “It’s just beginning.”

And then I walked out