POV: Sienna
The text came at 6:47 PM, exactly thirteen minutes before my eighteenth birthday party started.
Running late. Just get there yourself. You understand, right babe?
I stared at Tyler's message while the subway rattled toward Manhattan, still wearing my coffee-stained Starbucks polo from my after-school shift. The dress I'd bought with my tutoring money was crumpled in my backpack. My hair smelled like espresso and burned milk.
You understand, right?
Three years of those four words. I understood when he forgot our six-month anniversary. I understood when his friends made jokes about my cute Brooklyn accent. I understood when he asked me to stop raising my hand so much in class because guys don't like girls who are too smart.
I always understood.
My phone buzzed again. Maya: Girl, where are you? This party is WEIRD. Tyler's acting strange. Get here NOW.
Eclipse nightclub sprawled across three floors of chrome and glass in the Meatpacking District. Tyler's parents had rented the whole place for Sienna's eighteenth birthday, though the guest list was entirely his prep school friends.
I changed in the bathroom, hands shaking as I zipped up the red dress. In the mirror, I barely recognized the girl staring back. When had I started needing permission to buy my own clothes?
He loves you, I told my reflection. He's just stressed about college applications.
The words tasted like lies.
I pushed through the bathroom door. The club was packed with designer everything, trust funds, last names that opened doors. Maya appeared instantly, grabbing my arm.
We need to talk. Now.
Later, I said, because Tyler had spotted me across the room, that charming smile lighting up his face.
Sienna, seriously— Maya's voice held a warning I didn't want to hear.
I said later. I pulled away, moving toward the VIP section.
There's my birthday girl! Tyler was already drunk. We were wondering when you'd show up to your own party.
His friends laughed. Madison Hartley, blonde, beautiful, old money—lounged beside Tyler's empty seat wearing a dress that cost more than my mother made in a month.
Cute outfit, Sienna. Is it vintage?
Translation: Is it cheap?
Target, I said, forcing a smile. Great sales.
More laughter. Tyler pulled me close, his breath sharp with alcohol. Don't be sensitive. Madison's just playing.
I sat down, invisible. His friends talked over me, around me, occasionally asking questions that felt like tests I always failed.
This was my birthday party. I'd never felt more alone.
Let's play a game! Blake suddenly announced, producing an empty champagne bottle. Truth or Dare!
Tyler's grip on my shoulder tightened. I don't know, man
Come on, it's Sienna's birthday! Let's make it memorable!
The bottle spun. Landed on Tyler.
Everything inside me went cold.
Tyler Sterling, Blake grinned, I dare you to kiss Madison. Through tissue paper. Seven seconds.
The VIP section erupted in cheers. Someone produced tissue paper, they'd planned this.
Tyler laughed. Blake, come on
Scared? Madison challenged, already moving closer. It's just tissue paper. Not even a real kiss.
Tyler I found my voice.
He looked at me with those blue eyes I'd loved for three years. Babe, it's just a game. Don't be dramatic.
Then he kissed her.
The tissue paper was supposed to stay between their lips. It broke after two seconds. Madison's hand went to his hair. Tyler's hand found her waist. The whole section was whooping, filming, laughing.
I sat there. Watching. Invisible.
When they finally broke apart—after ten seconds, not seven Tyler was grinning. No one looked at me.
I stood. My legs moved without permission.
Sienna, wait Tyler's voice was careless. Don't be uptight. It's your birthdayhave fun!
Madison smirked. Maybe if you loosened up, he wouldn't need to play games.
Something inside me didn't break. It cracked open. Like a door I'd kept locked for three years suddenly swinging wide.
Maya appeared beside me. That's it. We're leaving.
But Blake's voice cut through the music: Wait! The bottle landed on Sienna earlier—she never took her turn!
The entire VIP section went quiet. Phones appeared, already recording.
Blake spun the bottle with theatrical flair. It spun once, twice, three times, finally pointing directly at me.
Sienna Cross, Blake announced, Seven minutes in heaven. You can choose anyone in this club.
Tyler stood, arms spread wide, so confident. So sure I'd choose him. Sure I'd forgive him like I always did.
Everyone started chanting: Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!
But I wasn't looking at Tyler.
My eyes had found the man in the corner booth, expensive dark suit, salt-and-pepper hair, watching the whole scene with barely disguised contempt. I recognized him from photos Tyler had shown me, always with resentment in his voice.
Dominic Sterling. Tyler's uncle. The black sheep. The bastard son.
The most dangerous man in the room.
Something bloomed in my chest, not breaking, but awakening.
I walked toward the corner booth. The chanting stopped. The entire club went silent.
Tyler's voice cracked behind me: Sienna, what are you
I stopped in front of Dominic Sterling. His dark eyes met mine, surprised, assessing, dangerous.
Him, I said clearly. Loudly. I choose him.
The room exploded.
Tyler lunged forward. You can't choose him! He's not even part of the game!
Dominic stood slowly, and suddenly the air changed. He was taller than I'd realized, more intimidating up close. For three seconds that felt like hours, he just stared at me.
Then his lips curved slightly. Seven minutes, he said, his voice cutting through the chaos. Let's make them count.
Maya grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. A warning or encouragement, I couldn't tell.
I walked past Tyler, past his shocked face, past Madison's fury. Dominic gestured toward a hallway leading away from the VIP section.
The crowd parted as we walked through. I could feel every eye on us, hear notifications as videos uploaded.
By tomorrow morning, everyone would know what I'd done.
The thought should have terrified me.
Instead, I felt free.
Dominic opened a door to what looked like a converted coat room. He stepped inside, waiting.
This was my last chance to run. To apologize. To go back to being Tyler's perfect girlfriend.
I stepped inside.
The door closed behind us, and the music became muffled. We were alone in semi-darkness, just a sliver of light from under the door.
Dominic leaned against the opposite wall, studying me. This is a mistake.
Probably.
You're upset. You're trying to hurt him. I won't be used for revenge.
Why not? I challenged, my voice stronger than I felt. You hate him too. I've seen how he talks about you. You've built an empire and he treats you like you're beneath him.
Something flickered in his dark eyes. He's a child playing at being a man. I don't waste energy on children.
I'm not a child.
You're eighteen.
Old enough to know I've wasted three years on someone who never saw me. My voice cracked. Old enough to know I forgot who I am trying to be who he wanted.
His expression shifted—not soft, but understanding. I know that feeling.
Then help me remember. I stepped closer. Teach me how to stop being weak.
That's not something you learn in seven minutes.
Then teach me after. Another step. But right now, I want him to see that I chose power over him. That I'm not his anymore.
You want to use me to hurt him.
No. I met his eyes. I want to use these seven minutes to stop being the girl who accepts crumbs. And you're the only person in that entire club who looked at me like I'm not Tyler Sterling's accessory.
Dominic was quiet for a long moment. Then: You're playing a dangerous game. Tyler won't forgive this. My family will make your life hell.
Let them try.
He laughed—dark and genuine. You're going to be spectacular when you figure out who you are.
Help me figure it out.
He pushed off the wall, moving closer. If I do this—if I kiss you—it won't be gentle. I don't do romance.
Good. I'm done with romance.
His hand came up, fingers tracing my jawline. Last chance to walk away.
My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe. I don't want to.
When Dominic kissed me, the whole world disappeared.