Chapter 8 - The Testimony
Spring arrived before the hearings did.
Sienna had once believed important events happened quickly because important men demanded it.
Now she understood how much of that speed came from making other people absorb the damage.
The legal process moved differently.
There were filings.
Delays.
Questions she had already answered.
Days when nothing happened and she felt guilty for having a pleasant afternoon.
Mara reminded her that living was not disloyal to her own case.
So Sienna worked.
She attended hand therapy.
She went to dinner with Lydia.
And on a rainy Tuesday, she kissed Cillian outside the bakery beneath her apartment.
He had been telling her about a disastrous meeting.
She had been watching rain gather in his eyelashes.
“Sienna?”
“Yes?”
“You stopped listening.”
“I did.”
He smiled.
Then she touched his coat.
“May I?”
The question surprised him.
Then his expression softened.
“Yes.”
The kiss was brief.
Careful.
Afterward, she laughed because she felt suddenly shy.
He rested his forehead lightly against hers.
Neither called it fate.
They went upstairs and argued about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.
When the hearing date arrived, Sienna wore a dark blue suit and her mother’s yellow scarf.
Her hand had healed enough to hold a pen, though cold weather still made her fingers ache.
Cillian offered to accompany her.
She asked him to meet her afterward.
“I need to walk in knowing I can.”
“You can.”
She believed him.
Inside, Edmund sat beside his attorney.
Margaux occupied a bench behind him.
Phoebe sat on the opposite side of the room.
She looked at Sienna and gave one small nod.
No smile.
No demand.
When Sienna testified, her voice shook.
She hated that at first.
Then she kept going.
She described the asset transfer.
The drawer.
The locked study.
The call.
Questions followed about the family’s finances, her access to trust information, and the events leading to the gala.
An attorney suggested she had been angry about restrictions on her inheritance.
“Yes,” she said.
The room seemed to pause.
“Would you explain?”
“I was angry that I couldn’t get straightforward answers about assets that belonged to me. That doesn’t change what happened to my hand.”
Mara had prepared her to answer the question asked.
Not every question she feared.
Not every accusation she imagined.
It was harder than it sounded.
But she did it.
The preserved recording established what her memory could not hold in perfect order. The crash of the door. Edmund demanding the name of the person she had called. His declaration that nobody was coming.
Hearing it aloud made her stomach clench.
She kept her eyes on the glass of water.
Then came Phoebe.
Her sister admitted blocking the hallway.
Admitted laughing.
Admitted seeing Edmund take Sienna’s injured hand.
Margaux began crying.
Phoebe did not look at her.
Martin’s evidence concerned the financial records, supported by documents obtained from institutions and businesses.
Cillian’s role unfolded in a separate session.
He answered questions without performing outrage.
When asked whether his family’s companies had benefited from arrangements he now considered improper, he said yes.
Sienna watched from the back.
He did not search for her approval.
That mattered.
By the time the proceedings ended for the day, she was exhausted.
Outside, reporters called her name.
She kept walking.
At the corner, Cillian waited beside a coffee cart.
No entourage.
No dramatic rescue.
Just two paper cups.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Awful.”
He handed her the one with tea.
“Do you want to talk?”
“Not yet.”
“All right.”
They walked toward the river.
After several minutes, she said, “I thought I would feel powerful.”
“What do you feel?”
“Tired. Hungry. A little sick.”
“Those sound like reasonable responses.”
She looked at him.
Then laughed.
At home, Lydia had left soup in the refrigerator.
Sienna ate two bowls.
She washed her face.
She put the yellow scarf over a chair.
Later, her phone lit with a message from Phoebe.
I told the truth today. I should have done it years ago.
Sienna read it carefully.
Then answered.
Yes. You should have.
A minute later, another message appeared.
I know.
Sienna set the phone down.
It was not reconciliation.
It was not punishment.
May you like
It was a conversation in which neither sister had lied.
For now, that was enough.
