The next morning, Sierra sat on the edge of the penthouse terrace, her silk robe cinched loosely around her waist. Manhattan spread beneath her like a map of ambitions, glass and steel shimmering under a waking sun. She held her coffee cup in both hands, letting the warmth bleed into her palms, but she didn't drink.
Behind her, the sliding door opened and closed. Liam's voice filtered through, low and clipped. Another early morning meeting. Another excuse.
"…tell him the Milan deal has to wait until we've signed Tokyo," he said. "No, I don't care what Carter thinks. You come to me with those numbers by noon."
Sierra closed her eyes. Once, that voice had been reserved just for her. Intimate. Gentle. Now it was full of tension and authority, a stranger's tone wrapped in a familiar mouth.
When he finally emerged, he barely glanced her way.
"Babe," he said, tapping at his phone. "Did you see the files I left on the kitchen island?"
She turned slightly. "No 'good morning, babe'? Just work files?"
He looked up, distracted. "Sorry. It's been nonstop since five. I've got back-to-backs until three. Dinner at the Prescott's tonight. Wear the black one with the gold earrings, okay? Investors love that dress."
She didn't respond. He didn't notice.
After he left, the silence settled again.
By noon, she was in SoHo, tucked into the corner booth of Maison Blanche Café. Across from her, Mila tossed her sunglasses on the table and raised an eyebrow.
"You look like you slept in your feelings."
Sierra huffed. "I did. And they hogged the sheets."
Mila smiled, but her gaze sharpened. "Alright, let's have it. I haven't heard you say Liam's name once in the last ten texts. What's going on?"
Sierra stirred her matcha absently. "He's… distant. Busy. Cold. I don't know."
"He's not pounding it?" Mila asked.
Sierra's head snapped up. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to. Your skin says it all."
Sierra laughed. "You're a different breed, I swear", she added
"I keep telling myself it's just the business. We've been pushing so hard with the Dubai expansion. But every time I mention starting a family, he shuts down."
Mila leaned in. "You think he's having an affair?"
"No." Sierra's answer came too fast. Then she hesitated. "I don't think so. But something's off. He's hiding something. I can feel it."
Mila reached for her hand. "You built a whole damn empire together. If anyone can get the truth out of him, it's you."
Sierra managed a tired smile. But deep down, the weariness ran deeper than words.
She managed to change the topic, and thirty minutes later, Mila had to leave for a book signing event of one of her friends. They did their goodbye "kiss on the cheek," and Sierra headed home.
That evening, Sierra made their live-in maid run a bath for her. The bath took close to an hour, and not even the rose petals floating on the surface of the cream-like water made her feel worth it. After the long soak, she put on her makeup and wore the black dress Liam liked. The one that hugged her curves and made her feel like power and seduction had been stitched into the seams. The earrings sparkled gold at her ears, framing her neck with just enough suggestion to make anyone with eyes linger a little longer. Her heels, Jimmy Choo, this season's.
They arrived at the Prescott estate fifteen minutes late. Sierra smiled, laughed, and charmed the investors. She played the role of a perfect partner flawlessly.
At dinner, she was seated beside Liam and directly across from Elliot Prescott, one of their oldest investors.
"So," Elliot said, lifting his wine glass, "when are you two finally giving us a little Hayes junior to run the empire in twenty years?"
Sierra's fork paused midway to her mouth.
Liam gave a short laugh. "We're focused on the Tokyo expansion right now. Kids will come when things settle."
Elliot raised a brow. "Business will never settle. Trust me, I've been saying that for thirty years."
"Trust me, we have this heir production …on lock!" Sierra said jokingly, to ease the tension she was alone was probably feeling, though her knuckles were white around the stem of her wine glass. The two laughed, and she was forced to join.
After dinner, they mingled on the terrace. The air was cool and smelled faintly of cigar smoke and expensive perfume.
"You looked beautiful tonight," Liam said beside her, his fingers lightly brushing her waist.
She turned to him, eyes searching. "Thank you. You barely looked at me all night."
He took a sip of champagne. "I was working the room. You know how these things go."
"I know how it used to go. We used to make eye contact from across the room like we were sharing secrets."
His jaw flexed. "That was before we had a billion-dollar portfolio riding on every handshake."
"And what do we have riding on us?" she asked quietly.
He didn't answer.
In the car ride home, silence thickened between them. But this time, it wasn't angry. It was charged. Like electricity before a storm.
When they reached the penthouse, Sierra stepped out first, heels clicking against the marble. She didn't wait for Liam. She walked straight to their bedroom, dropping her earrings onto the dresser and letting her dress fall to the floor.
She stood in front of the mirror, in nothing but silk and bare skin.
Behind her, the door opened.
Liam stood there, his tie loosened, his gaze lingering on her back.
She didn't turn around. "Are you coming to bed? Or back to your study?"
There was a beat of silence. Then footsteps.
Arms wrapped around her waist. His breath warmed her neck.
"I miss us," he murmured.
She closed her eyes, leaning back into him. "Then show me."
His lips brushed her shoulder, hands moving over her curves like he was rediscovering her. They moved to the bed, slowly, cautiously, as if testing something fragile.
He kissed her longer this time. His mouth softened the ache in her chest. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, fingers dancing along familiar lines. She felt his breath hitch as her robe slipped off.
Clothes fell, one after the other, leaving them bare beneath the city's glow filtering through the window.
They lay together, bodies tangled and breathless. Their rhythm was hesitant at first, like remembering a language they'd almost forgotten. But then it deepened—full of heat and yearning, of unsaid words and aching need.
He held her tightly, forehead resting against hers. For the first time in months, she felt his heartbeat race against her chest.
"I love you," he whispered, voice cracking.
She cupped his cheek. "Then don't disappear again."
They moved together, slowly, tenderly, until the distance between them collapsed.
And for one fleeting night, Sierra let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they weren't broken after all.