Chapter 9 - MARGOT STERLING’S PERFECT LIE
At 7:00 the next morning, Natalie Reed sat across from Sienna in Arthur's private conference room.
She was thirty-two.
Dark hair.
No makeup.
Terrified.
A flash drive rested on the table.
“I copied everything.”
Arthur did not touch it.
“Before we continue, Ms. Reed, you need independent counsel.”
Natalie nodded.
“I already contacted one.”
“Good.”
Sienna watched her.
“Why come to me?”
Natalie's eyes filled.
“Because I've watched this family ruin people for years.”
She looked down.
“And because yesterday I watched your mother stand against that chapel wall.”
Sienna felt something twist in her chest.
Natalie continued.
“My mother cleaned offices at Sterling headquarters when I was a kid.”
She gave a bitter smile.
“Margot never remembered her name either.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“Tell us about the entities.”
Natalie opened her laptop.
Three companies.
Westbridge Agricultural Partners.
SMA Equipment Holdings.
Miller Infrastructure Advisory LLC.
Sienna stared at the third name.
“I've never heard of that.”
“That's the point.”
Natalie opened corporate filings.
Miller Infrastructure Advisory had been created eleven months earlier.
The registered contact was a law office connected to Margot's personal attorney.
Its listed “strategic advisor” was Sienna Miller.
Sienna's face hardened.
“I never agreed to this.”
Natalie nodded.
“We know.”
“How?”
“No tax ID authorization. No engagement contract. No bank signature card.”
Arthur's expression became dangerous.
“They used her name.”
“Yes.”
“For what purpose?”
Natalie clicked another file.
Payments.
Consulting fees.
Licensing deposits.
Transaction after transaction.
Margot had apparently created the impression that Sienna was already economically involved with Sterling.
It made the future Apex integration look more certain.
Sienna whispered, “She built a paper trail.”
“Yes.”
“To convince lenders I was committed.”
Natalie nodded.
“And possibly to convince Sterling board members.”
Sienna stood and walked toward the window.
For two years, Margot had insulted her family publicly.
Privately, she had been using Sienna's name to make Sterling look financially stronger.
The hypocrisy was almost elegant.
Arthur asked, “Does Damian know?”
Natalie hesitated.
“I don't know.”
Sienna turned.
“You said yesterday he wasn't responsible.”
“For creating the shell entities, no.”
“But?”
“He signed documents that referenced them.”
Sienna felt disappointed despite everything.
“How many?”
“Seven that I found.”
Arthur leaned back.
“So either he knew or failed to read material financing documents.”
“Correct.”
Neither possibility made Damian look good.
Sienna returned to her chair.
“What happens now?”
Arthur's answer was immediate.
“We notify regulators and Sterling's board.”
Natalie swallowed.
“If Margot discovers I'm the source—”
“You'll be protected,” Sienna said.
Natalie looked at her.
“I can't promise she won't try something. But Apex will pay for independent counsel and temporary security.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Sienna looked at him.
“Can we?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it.”
Natalie began crying quietly.
“Thank you.”
Sienna handed her tissues.
“No one should be punished for telling the truth.”
By noon, Sterling's board had received the files.
At 12:17, Damian called Sienna twenty-three times.
She ignored the first twenty-two.
Then answered.
“What?”
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“My mother used your name.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“I didn't.”
Sienna closed her eyes.
“Damian—”
“I swear to you.”
“You signed documents.”
“I didn't read the appendices.”
“That is not a defense.”
“I know!”
His voice cracked.
“I know, Sienna.”
She heard something crash in the background.
“Where are you?”
“My mother's house.”
That concerned her.
“Damian, don't do anything stupid.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“Interesting that you still think I need that warning.”
“I mean it.”
“I found her files.”
Sienna went still.
“What files?”
“My father's private safe.”
“Damian—”
“She kept everything.”
His breathing became uneven.
“Bank records. Letters. Agreements.”
“Call Arthur.”
“No.”
“Call your lawyer.”
“No.”
“What do you want from me?”
Damian became quiet.
Then:
“I need you to see something.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
“From whom?”
“My father.”
Sienna knew Damian's father, Charles Sterling, had died six years earlier.
“What does it say?”
Damian's answer came slowly.
“That my father knew Robert Miller.”
Sienna frowned.
“How?”
“He didn't just know your father.”
May you like
Damian swallowed.
“He owed him his life.”
