The Billionaire‘s Convenient Wife

Chapter Two

Sienna's pov

I spent the night throwing my clothes into a single suitcase. I refused to let a single tear drop while I packed. I refused to beg them for mercy.

Before I left, I slipped into my late father's study, searching for his old personal documents.

I stopped at the threshold and what I saw made my stomach drop.

seasonal light leaked through the tall windows, revealing an empty room. The shelves were completely cleared.

The locked mahogany cabinets hung wide open. Every single one of his personal files was gone. Even the heavy leather box where he kept the original documents concerning my trust had vanished without a trace.

They did not decide to destroy me after I caught Ethan and Lydia. They had been preparing to erase me long before I ever saw that video.

I pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, where a small secret compartment remained untouched.

Inside was an old notebook. I opened it, my eyes locking onto my father's familiar, sharp handwriting across the yellowed paper:

'If they ever try to take everything from Sienna, she must not trust the people closest to her.'

My throat tightened. This was no longer just about Ethan’s betrayal or Lydia’s jealousy. Someone had been systematically dismantling my inheritance right under my nose.

I immediately called my attorney, Adrian Blake.

"Sienna, I was just about to call you," Adrian said, his voice laced with panic. "Richard filed emergency injunctions two hours ago. He froze three of your secondary accounts. He had authority buried deep in the trust framework."

"How fast can we fight it?" I asked, gripping the phone tight.

"Months," Adrian admitted grimly. "Maybe longer. And it will take massive legal resources you currently do not have."

By noon, my phone blew up with press alerts. Headlines across social media flooded my screen, showing Lydia wearing my diamond ring alongside Ethan at a public lunch.

The press called her the new Kensington bride. Other sponsored articles described me as emotionally unstable, difficult, and unfit to run family assets.

Then came the clip of my mother.

I watched Vivian stand before a crowd of reporters, a glowing smile on her face. "Lydia is a sweet, warm soul," my mother said into the microphones. "She understands how to make a man happy in ways others simply could not."

That interview sliced deeper than Ethan's affair ever could. I remembered every birthday I had sacrificed, every time I defended her against Richard's cruelty, every time she told me the family needed my obedience. She had thrown me away the second I was no longer useful.

I needed power, and I needed it immediately.

I thought of the one man Richard genuinely feared. And that man was Victor Kensington.

He was Ethan's uncle, a ruthless billionaire who had built his own empire outside the Kensington family's influence. He despised Ethan's weakness and had never pretended to respect my stepfather.

An hour later, I walked into the penthouse floor of Kensington Tower. I carried nothing except my purse and my father's old notebook.

Victor sat behind a massive black granite desk. He possessed dark, piercing eyes and a presence that made the air in the room feel thin.

"You are far from home, Sienna," Victor said, leaning back in his leather chair. "I heard about the press releases."

"I am not here for sympathy," I said, stepping up to his desk. "I am here to make a deal."

"I am listening."

"Marry me," I said plainly. "It'll be a strategic alliance. I give you total access to my inside knowledge of the Montgomery empire, including the vulnerabilities they think I do not know about. You give me your name, your wealth, and your protection."

Victor did not interrupt me. He watched me silently, his gaze scanning my face like a man reading fine print.

"You came here asking me to marry you," Victor said slowly in a deep and deliberate voice. "Do you even understand what you're offering?"

"My name," I answered, leaning down slightly across the stone desk. "My knowledge. And a reason for your family to fear me."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "I like your spirit."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," Victor said. "With two conditions. You move into my penthouse tonight. And you become the primary guardian of my six-year-old daughter."

I froze. "Your daughter?"

Victor opened a thin folder and slid a single photograph across the polished stone toward me.

I looked down at the image of a small girl with bright hazel eyes looking at the camera. But my eyes did not stay on her face. They dropped to her neck.

A silver necklace sat against her dark velvet dress. The pendant was a antique crest set with a rare blue sapphire.

My blood ran cold and the air left my chest entirely.

I knew that necklace. My father had worn it every single day until the night he died. It was supposed to be buried with him.

I looked up at Victor, my hands shaking against the edge of his desk. "Where did she get that?"

Victor rested his hands on the desk and locked his dark gaze with mine.

“If you want to know why my daughter has your father's necklace,” Victor said smoothly, “you will have to become my wife first.”