The Heller lawsuit disappeared by Thursday.
Sienna filed away the documents, closed the case folder, and moved on to the next crisis. There was always a next crisis.
Friday brought a board meeting. Quarterly reviews, projections, the usual performance from executives trying to prove their worth. Sienna sat in the corner, taking notes, watching Dominic watch everyone else.
Halfway through, a woman from Marketing—Linda something, mid-forties, been with the company for twelve years—presented her department's numbers. They weren't good. A campaign had underperformed, costs had overrun, and the holiday projections were softer than expected.
"We're adjusting our strategy for Q1," Linda said, clicking through her slides with slightly trembling hands. "The data suggests—"
"The data suggests you should have adjusted three months ago." Dominic's voice was flat. "When I asked about the campaign in September, you told me everything was on track."
"It was on track at that point. The market shifted—"
"The market didn't shift. Your team misread it." He leaned back in his chair. "Who was responsible for the initial projections?"
Linda hesitated. "It was a team effort—"
"I didn't ask about the team. I asked who."
The room went still. Sienna watched Linda's face cycle through options—protect her employee, blame someone else, deflect somehow.
"Daniel Cho," she finally said. "He led the analytics on that campaign."
"Is he in the building?"
"He's on the fourteenth floor, but—"
Dominic pressed the intercom on the conference table. "Have Daniel Cho from Marketing meet me in Conference Room A. Now."
Linda's face went pale. "Mr. Ren, I take full responsibility for my department's—"
"You will. After."
Three minutes of silence. No one moved. No one checked their phones. Sienna kept her pen still against her notebook.
The door opened. Daniel Cho walked in—young, maybe twenty-seven, wearing a suit that didn't quite fit right. He looked confused, then saw the board members, then saw Dominic's face.
The confusion turned to fear.
"Mr. Cho." Dominic gestured to the empty chair beside Linda. "Sit."
He sat.
"You led the analytics on the holiday campaign. The one that's currently underperforming by forty percent."
"I—yes, but the initial data—"
"Was wrong."
"The sample size was solid. The methodology was standard. We couldn't have predicted—"
"You're in analytics. Predicting is your job." Dominic slid a folder across the table. "Open it."
Daniel opened it. Sienna couldn't see the contents from where she sat, but she watched his face go white.
"Those are emails you sent to a friend at Ogilvy," Dominic said. "Complaining about our internal processes. Sharing details about campaigns that hadn't launched yet. Nothing classified, but enough to be... indiscreet."
"I wasn't leaking anything. Jake is an old college friend, we just talk about work sometimes—"
"I don't care about Jake. I care that you have bad judgment. You had bad judgment with the campaign, and you have bad judgment with your communications." Dominic took the folder back. "You're fired. Security will escort you out. HR will send your paperwork."
Daniel sat frozen. "I've been here for four years—"
"And now you haven't." Dominic turned to Linda. "You're not fired. But your budget is cut by thirty percent next quarter, and you'll report directly to me on all campaigns over fifty thousand. Understood?"
Linda nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Everyone else—we're done here."
The room emptied fast. Sienna gathered her notes, watching Daniel stumble toward the door, face blank with shock. Linda followed him out, already pulling out her phone, probably calling HR to do damage control.
Sienna waited until everyone was gone.
"The emails were nothing," she said.
Dominic was straightening the folders in front of him. "I know."
"He talked to a friend about work. Everyone does that."
"He failed at his job and then gave me a reason to fire him cleanly. What he did or didn't do with his friend is irrelevant." He looked up at her. "You have something to say?"
She held his gaze for a moment. Then looked away.
"No."
"Good. I need the Nakamura contracts on my desk by three."
She left.
---
The rest of the day passed in a haze.
Sienna worked through lunch, answering emails, coordinating with Legal, avoiding the whispers that spread through the floor about Daniel Cho's sudden departure. By four, the story had grown—some people said he'd been stealing, others said he'd insulted Dominic directly. No one knew the truth.
No one ever did.
At five, her phone buzzed. Justin.
Can you talk?
She glanced at Dominic's office. He was on a call, back to the window.
Give me 5 min.
She took the elevator to the lobby, stepped outside into the cold November air, and called her brother.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Why do you always assume something's wrong?"
"Because you never ask if I can talk unless something's wrong."
Justin laughed, but it sounded forced. "Okay, fine. I need a favor."
"How much?"
"It's not money. Well, not exactly." A pause. She heard traffic in the background, a horn honking. "I got offered a job. A real one. But it's in Boston."
Sienna leaned against the building's cold stone facade. "That's good. Isn't it?"
"It's good money. Benefits, the whole thing. But I'd have to move, and Mom—"
"Mom will be fine."
"She's alone in that house, Sienna. Dad's been gone for six years and she still sets a place for him at dinner sometimes. If I leave—"
"Then I'll check on her more."
"Will you? Because you said that when I moved into my own place, and you've visited maybe four times this year."
The words landed harder than he probably meant them to. Sienna stared at the street, watching cabs pass, people rushing home from work.
"I'm doing my best."
"I know. I'm not—" Justin sighed. "I'm not attacking you. I'm just scared. This job is real and I actually want it, but I don't know if I can leave her. And you have your whole life with your boss and your job and I don't even know when we're going to see each other if I go."
Sienna closed her eyes. The cold bit at her cheeks, her fingers.
"Take the job," she said.
"What?"
"Take the job. Boston isn't far. Mom will adjust. I'll visit more—I mean it this time." She paused. "You can't put your life on hold for us. That's not fair to you."
Justin was quiet for a long moment.
"You really think I should go?"
"I think you'll regret it if you don't."
More silence. Then a shaky exhale.
"Okay. I'll call them tomorrow." A pause. "Thanks, Sienna. I know I give you shit sometimes, but—you're a good sister. Even when you're busy."
"I'm always busy."
"I know. That's the problem." But he was smiling now, she could hear it. "I'll let you get back to work. Love you."
"Love you too."
She hung up. Stood in the cold for another minute, letting it numb her face.
Then she went back inside.
---
Dominic was waiting at her desk.
He never waited at her desk. He summoned; he didn't wait.
"Your brother?" he asked.
"Personal call."
"During work hours."
"It was five minutes."
He studied her for a moment. She couldn't read his expression—something between curiosity and irritation, maybe neither.
"The Nakamura contracts are on your desk," she said. "I sent the updated projections to Legal. Is there something else you need?"
He didn't answer immediately. Just looked at her.
"Go home," he said finally. "You've been here since six."
"I have more—"
"It can wait until Monday."
He walked back to his office without another word.
Sienna stood there for a moment, confused. In five years, he'd told her to go home early maybe twice. Both times, something bad had happened the next day—a merger falling through, a lawsuit being filed.
She gathered her things slowly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It didn't.