Chapter 2

Sienna's POV

"SEE THIS? Here's your fucking proof!"

Cindy sneered, jabbing her finger at the LED screen.

The display showed a luxury yacht—white hull gleaming against azure waters, the bow emblazoned with gold letters: "C.C."

"Everyone knows you posted photos on Instagram partying on this yacht!" Cindy's voice could strip paint. "And this three-million-dollar yacht was my father's eighteenth birthday gift to ME!"

She tapped the screen triumphantly. "See those letters? C.C.! Cindy Carter! This is MY yacht!"

Then her face twisted, voice dripping venom. "So Sienna, if you weren't fucking around with my dad, how the HELL did you end up on this boat? Explain THAT!"

The crowd erupted:

"Holy SHIT, three million?"

"Are you KIDDING me right now?"

"So Sienna really WAS hooking up on someone else's yacht?"

Someone tried defending me: "Wait, hold up—you're saying Sienna seduced your dad? One yacht photo doesn't prove squat. Could be a coincidence?"

"Coincidence?" Cindy swiped her phone with a cold laugh. "How about THIS one?"

A new photo flashed on screen. My heart stopped.

The image showed a tall, handsome middle-aged man with his arm around my shoulders, tenderly brushing windswept hair from my face. The intimate gesture drew gasps from the audience.

"Still got nothing to say?" Cindy shrieked, stabbing her finger at the screen. "Look at this SLUT! She seduced MY father! Richard Morrison!"

I stared at the screen, recognition slamming into me like a freight train.

Charles. My own fucking father.

What the hell? Since when was HE her dad?

The whispers grew louder:

"Oh my GOD, that photo is insane!"

"That's way too intimate—they're definitely fucking!"

"Sienna always seemed so classy, but turns out..."

My mind flashed back three months to the day we'd bought that yacht. Charles had actually cried—real tears streaming down his face—saying he wanted to honor my late mother, Clara Colette. That's why he'd named it C.C. I'd even hugged him, genuinely moved by what I'd thought was grief.

Now I wondered—were those tears real? Or was he just excited his side piece was getting a new toy?

I studied Cindy's face more carefully. Those eyes. That nose.

Fuck. My fists clenched.

"EVERYONE sees it now!" Cindy pressed her advantage, voice rising to a screech. "This gold-digging WHORE seduced my father for his money! She's a homewrecker trying to destroy my family!"

Gold-digging? I nearly laughed out loud. Every luxury Charles had enjoyed for the past two decades came from my grandfather's estate. He was basically a kept man—a live-in gigolo who'd brought nothing but a pretty face to the marriage.

Grandfather had chosen him precisely because he was dirt poor—no threat to the family fortune. Never imagined the bastard would not only covet it, but use OUR money to keep a mistress and bastard daughter on the side.

And this bitch was my age. Which meant he'd been screwing around while my mother was PREGNANT with me.

I looked Cindy up and down slowly.

Every designer label she wore, every piece of jewelry—all paid for with MY family's money.

"Everyone sees her true colors!" Cindy whipped the crowd into a frenzy. "This morally bankrupt SLUT should be EXPELLED!"

"Expel her! Throw her OUT!"

"She doesn't belong at our school!"

The students turned rabid, baying for blood like a pack of wolves.

I took a deep breath, meeting their hostile stares head-on.

"You're right about one thing. That man in the photo IS very close to me."

The venue went dead silent. Even the ocean seemed to hold its breath.

"He's my biological father."

The silence shattered into hysterical laughter—louder, more vicious than before.

"HA HA HA! Biological father?"

"Oh honey, is THAT what we're calling sugar daddies now?"

"Sienna, you're fucking KILLING me!"

Cindy doubled over laughing. "What? 'Daddy'? Girl, we ALL know what kind of 'daddy' he is to you! HA HA HA!"

"Your last name is Colette, my dad's is Morrison—where's the family connection, babe?" She pointed at her own face smugly. "Look how much I look like him. You? Not even CLOSE! How dare you claim he's your father?"

I'd taken my mother's surname—old money custom. Looking at Cindy's features, which did mirror Charles's perfectly, I knew appearance alone wouldn't convince anyone.

But that didn't matter.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a familiar number as hundreds of eyes watched.

Three rings. Then he picked up.

"Hey, Charles." I tapped speakerphone, my voice ice-cold. "Quick question."

The phone crackled. Everyone held their breath.

"When the FUCK did I get a sister?"