. CHAPTER 9 — The Fall from Sixty Floors
Caleb did not shout at first.
He laughed.
It was a brittle, ugly sound that bounced off the glass and died quickly.
“You think they’ll choose you?” he asked Mara. “You hate cameras. You hate speeches. You hate the game.”
Mara nodded. “Yes.”
The answer disarmed him.
Because it was true. She did hate the game. She hated the performance of wealth, the charity galas where men bought redemption by the table, the interviews where wives were praised for patience while husbands were rewarded for cruelty. She hated rooms like this one, where silence was mistaken for consent.
But hatred had taught her to study the rules.
And tonight she had used them.
“The company doesn’t need a performer,” she said. “It needs a steward.”
Martin’s expression softened slightly.
Sienna turned away, wiping under one eye before her makeup could run. “Caleb, what happens to my contract?”
Caleb snapped, “Be quiet.”
The room heard it. Sienna heard herself become what Mara had been for years: an inconvenience to be managed.
Mara felt no satisfaction in it.
“Ms. Rowe,” she said, “your consulting contract is suspended pending review. Security will escort you separately.”
Sienna looked at her, stunned by the fairness. For a moment, shame replaced calculation.
Caleb’s anger finally broke. “You planned this from the beginning.”
“No,” Mara said. “I hoped until the end that you would choose decency.”
That hurt him more than accusation.
Security moved beside him. Caleb adjusted his jacket as if dignity could be buttoned into place. When he walked toward the doors, he did not look at Sienna. He did not look at the board.
At the threshold, he turned back to Mara.
“You’ll regret this.”
Mara met his eyes.
May you like
“I already regretted trusting you,” she said. “This is what comes after regret.”
Then the doors closed behind him.
