(Author's POV)
Sienna had spent three full days at Victoria's hospital bedside, and she had not wasted a single hour.
She fluffed pillows. She brought food from the restaurant Victoria preferred. She sat through the slow afternoon hours without complaint, flagging nurses the moment Victoria's water glass ran low.
She played the role of the devoted, selfless daughter with the precision of someone who had rehearsed it her entire life.
Jasper came every day. He noticed. His manner toward Sienna softened visibly with each visit - the careful distance he usually kept between them closed by a few degrees each time. Sienna catalogued every small shift and filed it away.
But Victoria was not softening.
What sat in Victoria's chest, immovable, was the memory of five hundred million dollars. N
