The next morning at the gallery felt strange.
Too quiet.
Sienna walked in early, hoping for a normal day—just one. A day without secrets, tension, or fear.
Lucien hadn't stayed the night. After their kiss, he'd held her in silence, then left with a soft, "I'll see you tomorrow."
But now… he wasn't here.
And something about the air felt wrong.
Claire, his assistant, looked tense. Papers were shuffled too fast. Calls were short. Eyes darted. Whispers floated in corners.
Sienna finally asked, "Is everything okay?"
Claire hesitated. Then leaned in. "You didn't hear?"
Sienna shook her head slowly.
"There was a break-in at one of Lucien's storage sites last night," Claire whispered. "Someone went after the locked vault. The one with the old pieces. The unregistered ones."
Sienna's stomach dropped. "Was anything taken?"
"We're still counting."
Lucien arrived two hours later.
Not in his usual suit. Not calm.
His jaw was tight. His shirt wrinkled. His knuckles red, like he'd hit something—or someone.
"Sienna. My office. Now."
She followed, heart racing. Once the door shut behind them, he paced like a storm barely held together.
"You need to stay away from me," he said suddenly.
"What?"
"I mean it."
She stepped forward. "Lucien, talk to me. What happened?"
He stopped. His eyes were cold, but beneath it, she saw the fear.
Real fear.
"Someone broke into a vault I haven't touched in five years," he said. "The one with paintings linked to my father's crimes."
Sienna's lips parted. "But you said you rebuilt your life—"
"I did," he said. "But someone wants to tear it apart. And if they know about you…"
He didn't finish.
Sienna walked to him, touched his hand. "Then let me help."
He pulled away.
"You can't."
She looked up at him, angry now. "Why are you pushing me away when I'm the only one not afraid of your truth?"
"Because if they know I care about you," Lucien said quietly, "you become a target."
Later that night, she went home feeling like everything was slipping.
But as she opened her apartment door, she froze.
There, lying on her kitchen counter, was a single white envelope.
No name. No stamp.
Just one line written across the front in black ink:
"You don't know who he really is."
Sienna stared at the envelope for a long time.
Her heart was loud in her chest. Her fingers trembled.
"You don't know who he really is."
The handwriting was smooth, sharp, confident. Not a threat—but a warning.
She opened the envelope slowly.
Inside was a single photo.
It was Lucien.
Younger. Darker hair. Standing beside a man who looked almost identical—only colder. Cruel, even in stillness.
On the back of the photo were just two words:
"Like father, like son."
She didn't sleep that night.
Her mind spun in circles. The man in the picture had to be Lucien's father—the criminal he had told her about.
But why now?
Why was someone digging into a past Lucien had already left behind?
And worse… what if there was more to his story than he'd told her?
The next day, Sienna waited until the gallery closed.
Lucien had been avoiding her again—half-polite smiles, short replies, staying behind closed doors.
But this couldn't wait.
She stepped into his office, locked the door behind her, and held out the photo.
He didn't even flinch when he saw it.
"I was wondering when this would show up," he said quietly.
"You knew?" she asked.
Lucien sat down heavily. His shoulders sank. He looked… tired.
"That photo was taken six months before my father vanished," he said. "He told me we were rebuilding together. That we'd start over. I didn't know he was still running cons behind my back."
Sienna sat across from him. "Then why are people saying you're just like him?"
He looked up at her. His voice didn't shake—but his eyes did.
"Because I helped him once. Just once. I didn't know it was illegal. I thought I was protecting him. And when it all fell apart, my name got dragged through the mud too."
Sienna's breath caught. "You were involved?"
"I was nineteen," he said. "I was stupid. But I spent the next ten years rebuilding, paying debts, cleaning the mess he left behind."
"Why didn't you tell me the full truth?"
He paused.
"Because when you look at me, I see something I haven't seen in years. Hope. And I was afraid that if you knew everything… you'd leave."
Sienna walked around the desk and knelt beside him.
"I don't want the perfect version of you," she said. "I want the real one. Mistakes and all."
Lucien touched her face gently. "Then stay. Even when it gets worse."
"Is it going to?"
He nodded. "Someone's trying to destroy me. And if you stay, you'll be standing in the fire with me."
She looked him straight in the eye.
"Then let it burn."
The next few days moved like fog.
Lucien had opened up. He'd shared more of himself than she expected. And Sienna had stayed—just like she promised.
But nothing felt safe anymore.
The photo.
The warning.
The silence between every heartbeat.
Someone was watching them. Testing them. Waiting.
Lucien hired extra security at the gallery. Two silent men in suits now stood near the doors. Claire handled all calls. Everything felt controlled, guarded.
But Sienna knew better.
You can't lock out the past.
That night, she returned home to find her apartment door slightly open.
Her heart froze. She reached slowly for the pepper spray in her bag.
"Sienna?" a voice called from inside.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
She stepped in carefully.
A man stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like he belonged there.
Tall. Sharp jaw. That same sly smile she used to fall for—and now hated.
Daniel.
Her ex.
The one who walked away three years ago and left her with nothing but lies.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped.
He raised his hands casually. "Relax. I didn't touch anything. I just came to talk."
"How did you get in?"
"Spare key under the plant pot," he said. "Some habits never change."
Sienna's hands shook with anger. "You don't get to walk in like nothing happened."
Daniel stepped closer. "I came to warn you."
"About what?"
He tilted his head. "Lucien Vale."
She froze.
"You don't know what he's done," Daniel said. "I used to work for a man who did business with his father. Dirty business. Lucien might act clean now, but he was trained in manipulation. And I'm telling you—he's playing you."
Sienna's voice dropped. "Get out."
"I'm serious. You're in danger."
"From you, maybe."
Daniel smirked bitterly. "You always did trust the wrong people."
And with that, he walked out—calm, like he hadn't just shattered the little peace she had left.
Later that night, she sat on her couch, hands around a mug of tea she didn't drink.
Was Daniel lying?
Trying to win her back?
Or was there truth hiding in his warning?
She wanted to trust Lucien.
But what if love wasn't enough?
What if the deeper she fell, the more danger she was in?
At midnight, her phone buzzed.
Lucien: Meet me at the vault. I need to show you something.
Sienna stared at the message.
Her fingers hovered.
And then she typed:
On my way.