A week later, Sterling Pharmaceuticals announced an emergency shareholders' auction: a rare move to liquidate 5% of the company's voting shares—ostensibly to stabilize the market after the public failure of the MedAI system.
But everyone knew the truth: this was Pierce Sterling's counterstrike.
The auction venue was deliberately ostentatious—a sky-high tower overlooking the river, with golden chandeliers reflecting off black marble floors. Beneath the glittering surface, power, vengeance, and leverage swirled like poison in a glass of champagne.
Sienna stood at the glass wall, arms folded, her reflection fractured between crystal panels. The auction was a trap, and she knew it. But sometimes, to beat a spider, one had to enter the web willingly.
"Are you sure about this?" Silas asked quietly, standing beside her in a tailored black suit. The bruises from the warehouse collapse had faded, but something sharper had surfaced in his gaze since then: calculation, and barely restrained fury.
"We have to let them make the move first," she said. "If I don't show up, they'll claim I'm afraid. If I do show up—and win—then they'll blame me for manipulation. But if I bid just enough to destabilize the game…"
She turned to face him, eyes glinting with cold clarity. "We force them into checkmate."
He didn't smile, but he nodded. "Then I'll be the one holding the sword if they try to cut your hand."
Minutes later, the auction began. Executives, investors, and power players filed into the private room, and at the center sat the family patriarch, Augustus Sterling, too ill to speak but not too weak to watch.
Pierce sat at his side like a vulture in a Brioni suit. Jenna Nan stood on the other side, distant but visibly tense. Sienna walked in last.
An eerie hush fell as she took her seat.
"Lot One," the auctioneer announced. "Five percent voting shares in Sterling Pharmaceuticals. Starting bid: 50 million dollars."
Before the ripple of whispers had even finished passing, Sienna lifted her bidding paddle. "Fifty-five."
A flicker of surprise crossed a few faces. That was fast. Bold. Dangerous.
"Sixty," said a voice to her left. Silas, relaxed, smirking faintly. Playing the role of 'husband-investor' as if it were a game.
"Seventy," Pierce said next, leaning forward, sharp as a blade.
The tension in the room twisted immediately.
Sienna responded instantly. "Eighty-five."
"Eighty-six," came a cold voice from the back—a bidder no one recognized. He wore no name tag, his face shadowed.
"K's people," Silas whispered under his breath.
Sienna kept her expression neutral. "Ninety."
"Ninety-one," said Pierce, watching her now with open amusement.
This wasn't about buying stock. It was about forcing her to bleed.
Sienna calmly raised her paddle one last time. "One hundred million."
A gasp swept the room. That was far beyond the estimated value. Even Silas looked at her with a glint of shock.
The auctioneer blinked. "Going once... going twice…"
Then a voice came, flat and deliberate. "One hundred and one."
Everyone turned. The bidder in the shadows had spoken again.
Sienna let out a breath. Good.
She rose to her feet and dropped the paddle on the table like a weapon.
"Withdrawn," she said. "This bid is no longer a business decision—it's a warning."
She turned to Augustus Sterling directly. "And if you let this sale go through, you won't just lose a granddaughter. You'll lose the last heir who still believes this company can be saved."
The old man stared at her through cloudy eyes—and blinked. Once.
The auctioneer hesitated. For a beat too long. Then cleared his throat. "Lot One is… withdrawn. Due to irregular bidding behavior. Sale canceled."
The silence afterward was deafening.
Sienna turned and walked out before anyone could stop her.
But she didn't get far.
As the elevator doors slid open, a cloth was pressed to her mouth from behind. The world tilted—her pulse thundered—and then everything went black.
She awoke tied to a metal chair in a room that smelled of old rust and blood. A single fluorescent bulb flickered overhead.
Opposite her sat a man in a mask—black, no emblem, no eyes, no name.
"You made quite a mess today," he said casually.
Sienna blinked. "You're not K."
"No. But I follow his orders."
He held up a silver device—iris recognition scanner. "We want Sterling's crown jewel. We want Silas Sterling's retinal imprint. That's the only way to get into the off-ledger research vault."
"You kidnapped the wrong person," she rasped.
He tilted his head. "Did I? You've been living under the same roof. Close enough to borrow a contact lens, or—"
Before he could finish, she spat. Not at him—but at the scanner in his hand.
"Test that sample," she said coldly. "See what happens."
The moment the goon inserted the scanner into the reader, a small pin popped from the device—stabbed into his palm—and injected a microdose of capsaicin and silver nitrate.
He screamed.
Sienna stood up. The ropes fell away, already loosened—she'd dislocated her thumb during the fadeout and used the slack to work her way free.
"You think I don't know how to build a trap?" she whispered, stepping past him as he writhed. "Sterling taught me that. But my master taught me how to finish it."
She exited the room calmly, heart pounding—but already aware of the figure waiting for her in the hallway.
Silas.
He stood with two security men behind him, jaw clenched, a raw bruise on his cheekbone. "You moved without telling me."
"You moved without telling me about the scanner protocols in the vault," she shot back.
They stared at each other.
Then he stepped forward—and for the first time, his voice wasn't a warning. It was quiet. Wounded.
"You used my biometric data."
"I didn't," she said.
"Not today," he replied. "But you planned to."
Silence stretched.
Sienna looked away. "I only needed to know… if you were still who I thought you were."
"And what did you find out?" he asked, softer.
She turned back slowly.
"That you still bleed for me."
The elevator dinged.
Neither of them moved.