Chapter 1 - The Gates of Maplewood Manor
The heavy mahogany doors of Julian's house clicked shut behind me, severing the last fragile thread of my brief, illusionary marriage.
Outside, the cool morning air rushed into my lungs, crisp and pure. I stood on the manicured front lawn of the four-million-dollar suburban property, feeling no heartbreak—only an icy, exhilarating liberation.
I pulled my smartphone from my leather handbag. I bypassed my usual "Sienna the Assistant" contacts and opened an encrypted communication app that had remained untouched for two years.
I pressed a single speed-dial button.
"Miss Vance," a deep, polished voice answered on the first ring. It was Arthur Pendelton, the Chief Executive Officer of the Vance Family Office and my personal wealth manager. "It has been two years since your low-profile assignment. How may I serve you?"
"Arthur," I spoke into the speaker, my voice dropping into the smooth, unyielding authority of the majority shareholder of Apex Capital Partners. "The experiment is over. Send the driver. I am coming home."
There was a half-second pause on the line—the quiet intake of breath from a man who knew precisely what my return to the public eye signified. "Directly to Maplewood Manor, ma'am? Or to the global headquarters?"
"The Manor first," I replied, slipping my sunglasses over my eyes. "And Arthur? Call our Senior Legal Partner, Sarah Vance. Tell her to prepare a absolute annulment petition for Julian Vance... excuse me, Julian Sterling. He attempted to extort three thousand dollars a month from me using a fraudulent domestic agreement."
"Consider it done, Miss Vance. Your Maybach will arrive at the main estate gates in four minutes."
I walked down the winding asphalt driveway toward the quiet, tree-lined street. Behind me, the curtain of the second-floor master bedroom twitched. I knew Julian was watching me through the glass, likely waiting for me to break down, turn around, and beg his mother for mercy.
Instead, a sleek, jet-black Maybach 62S with tinted bulletproof glass glided around the corner, its silver double-M crest gleaming beneath the morning sun.
The rear door opened before the car had even come to a complete stop. A tall, immaculate butler in a three-piece suit stepped out, bowing deeply at a ninety-degree angle.
"Welcome back, Miss Sienna," James, my head butler, said respectfully, holding an open umbrella to shade me from the sun. "Your seven staff members at the estate have prepared the East Wing. Your favorite Earl Grey tea and fresh pastries are awaiting your arrival."
"Thank you, James," I said softly, stepping into the leather-scented sanctuary of the limousine.
As the Maybach pulled away from the curb, I looked through the side mirror. Julian had stepped out onto his front balcony in his silk robe, his arms crossed, a smug, arrogant grin plastered across his face. He believed I was getting into a rideshare service I couldn't afford.
He didn't realize that the car he was staring at was worth more than his entire life's savings.
Fifteen minutes later, the Maybach passed through the wrought-iron security gates of Maplewood Manor—a sprawling, thirty-five-million-dollar French Renaissance estate nestled behind thirty acres of private woodland.
The tall brass gates swung open automatically, revealing manicured rose gardens, marble fountains, and a grand cobblestone courtyard. Standing in a neat, symmetrical line outside the main double doors were seven maids in spotless gray uniforms, led by the head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable.
"Welcome home, Miss Vance!" they chorused in unison, bowing as James opened my car door.
May you like
I stepped onto the warm stone driveway, feeling the weight of the past two years lift off my shoulders. I was no longer the quiet, timid PR girl who apologized for taking up space.
I was Sienna Vance. And it was time to collect every debt owed to me.
