Chapter 4: Taking What’s Hers

Even Bradley frowned at the amount—three million dollars. Denise, in a soft voice, explained, “I just thought Sierra might be struggling financially, so…” Bradley’s heart softened. His little sister was too kind. Three million? He'd pay; it would make Denise happy.

He went upstairs, wrote a check, and tossed it in front of Sierra. “Here.” His disdainful gaze suggested he was tossing spare change. Sierra looked at the check, then at Bradley, her expression cold. “Mr. Xander, don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. This is what I’m owed. You pay employees for their work. I sat in prison for your sister for three years. Three million—isn’t that fair?”

Bradley, furious, grabbed her arm, yanking her sleeve askew, revealing a large, jagged scar. He froze. “What happened to you?”

Sierra calmly pulled her sleeve down. “You saw it yourself,” she said coolly. “I got hurt.”

“How?” Bradley demanded.

Sierra laughed mockingly. “Mr. Xander, what do you think prison is like?”

His temper flared at her tone, but her cold gaze extinguished it. Feeling guilty, he muttered, “I made sure everything was taken care of. I was told you were doing fine.”

Sierra’s cold chuckle was her only reply. She shoved them out of her room and slammed the door. Bradley hesitated; her injuries made him question his actions. He’d spent a fortune on her “care”—how could she still be hurt? Her voice, rougher now, confirmed something was amiss. What exactly had happened to her?

The next morning, Sierra, having slept well for the first time in a long while, was waiting in the living room. Evan barely glanced at her; it had always been thus. Bradley would occasionally speak to her; Sean, only when in a good mood. But Evan? He'd always been distant, except with Denise. Ironically, Sierra discovered her talent for biochemistry because she’d sought to connect with Evan. She studied relentlessly, hoping to find common ground. She loved biochemistry, a gift she never got to share with him before prison. Now, she didn't care.

They sat in silence. Evan stole glances at her; she ignored him completely, a stark contrast to her former behavior. It felt…odd. But this was fine; he didn’t talk to idiots.

Eleanor and Denise entered. Eleanor sighed at their disconnectedness. Denise, however, smirked. “Evan!” she chirped, linking her arm through his. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Not really. Let’s eat. I’ll drive you to school afterward,” Evan replied, patting her head.

Denise beamed, then noticed Sierra. “Sierra, are you ready? Let’s eat.”

“I already ate,” Sierra replied, avoiding breakfast with them. Back at school, she wouldn’t see them daily.

Seeing Sierra’s clothes, Eleanor said, “I had some clothes bought for you last night—your size this time. Try them on.”

Simple designs, but her style. “Thank you, Madam Eleanor.”

Sierra changed and returned, looking sharper in the simple clothes and short haircut. Eleanor started to compliment her, then saw the scar on her arm. She gasped.

“Your arm…”

Sierra chuckled. “It’s nothing. Just a small accident.”

The casual dismissal unsettled Eleanor. She knew it wasn’t a small cut. Remembering the scars on Sierra’s wrists, she could no longer ignore the truth; Sierra’s prison years had been brutal. She wanted to speak, but Sierra's cold gaze conveyed that words were futile.

After they left, Bradley came downstairs. Eleanor frowned. “She didn’t have an easy time, did she? You said you took care of everything—what happened?”

Bradley’s expression darkened. “I’ll have someone look into it.”

“Good. She’s still your sister. We don’t want people thinking we mistreated her.”

In the car, Sierra, silent and obedient, stared out the window as Evan spoke with Denise. Finally, he offered, “I’ll take you to the registrar’s office.”

“Mr. Evan, that won’t be necessary. I can manage.”

Evan’s face darkened. “Suit yourself.” He wouldn’t have bothered if not for her ordeal.

At school, Sierra quickly got her enrollment paperwork done and changed her major. It was processed instantly, perhaps due to family influence or her previous minor. She was back where she belonged. For the first time in years, she smiled—a genuine smile. She had money, her major back; things were looking up.

Her happiness lasted an hour. In her department office, she saw Evan and Denise.

Evan frowned. “Weren’t you in the literature department? What are you doing here?” Was this a scheme to get his attention?