Vows of Vengeance

Chapter 15:The Lion’s Den

​Sienna

​The air in Salt City felt fifty degrees colder than the Maldives, and it wasn't just the weather. It was the weight of the Sterling and Vane legacies settling back onto our shoulders the moment the wheels touched the tarmac.

​We hadn't been back for two hours before the summons arrived. Not an invitation—a summons from the holy order that happens to be our families. A formal dinner at the Vane Estate.

​"Don't look like you're heading to your execution," Julian muttered in the back of the limousine, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked like the CEO again—sharp, cold, and untouchable. But he was holding my hand so tightly I could feel his pulse.

​"I’m wearing a vintage Chanel suit and five-inch heels, Julian," I said, checking my reflection. "If I’m going to my execution, I’m going as the best-dressed person in the room."

​The dining room at the Vane Estate was a mausoleum of old money. Dark wood, silver that hadn't seen a speck of dust in a century, and portraits of ancestors who looked like they had never laughed or farted a day in their lives.

​My mother sat across from Julian’s grandfather, Arthur Vane. They weren't eating. They were waiting.

​"The footage," Arthur began, his voice like grinding stones. He didn't even say hello. He just tossed a tablet onto the linen tablecloth. The video of us rolling on the sand, laughing about the jellyfish, began to play. "Do you have any idea what this looks like,

A very happy newly wed couple having fun on their honeymoon,Julian said.Julian? You are an influential figure of polite society. A titan of industry. And yet, here you two are, cackling like a pack of wild hyenas on the internet."

​"It was a medical emergency, Grandfather," Julian said, his voice deceptively calm.

​"It was a circus!" my mother snapped, her eyes landing on me. "Sienna, the Sterling name stands for poise. Elegance. Restraint. We spent twenty-eight years molding you into a woman of high standing, only for you to become a... a 'meme.' A 'Golden Savior for crying out loud. Do you even think about the family reputation? Or were you too busy playing in the dirt?".My mom kept going on and on I practically zoned out.

​The "blah, blah, blah" of their lecture continued for twenty minutes. They talked about stock prices, about "decorum," and about how our "unfiltered behavior" was a stain on the merger. They spoke as if we weren't even in the room—as if we were just two wayward employees being reprimanded for a bad quarterly report.

​"And the clothes," my mother whispered, looking at my pink Chanel.My focus snapped back at the mention of my wardrobe choices. What?what's wrong with my clothes I asked my mother. "I heard about the island wardrobe.She went on completely ignoring my question well this is giving gaslight I think to myself.Pink? Orange?she goes on.What's wrong with pink and orange mother I like them.It’s garish. It’s common"She says.

​I felt the familiar sting of her disapproval, that old habit of wanting to shrink into my chair. But then, I felt the shift in the air.

​Julian stood up.

​He didn't scream. He didn't throw anything. He just stood there, towering over the table, and the entire room went silent.

​"Are you finished?" Julian asked.

​Arthur blinked, startled. "Julian, we are just trying to protect your—"

​"You aren't protecting anything," Julian interrupted, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly quiet tone that usually meant someone was about to get fired. "You’re talking about my wife. You’re talking about the woman who managed to make me smile for the first time in a decade. You care about the reputation? Okay than protect your family reputation and I will protect my wife. I care about the fact that for the first time in my life, I don’t hate coming home."

​He looked at my mother, then at his grandfather. "If 'polite society' finds joy and laughter to be a scandal, then maybe society needs to change. Because I’m not changing her. And I’m certainly not apologizing for loving her."

​My heart stopped. Loving her. He’d said it. In front of the firing squad.

​"If you ever speak to her like she’s a disappointment again," Julian continued, "I will pull every Vane contract from the Sterling accounts. I will take my wife and walk away from this merger, and I will let you explain to the board why the 'reputation' was worth losing five hundred million dollars."

​He reached down, offering me his hand. "Come on, Sienna. We’re leaving. I think I’ve had enough of the 'polite' company."

​As we walked out, leaving our parents gasping into their wine glasses, I felt a surge of triumph that was better than any prank. The war was over. The lions had been tamed.