ADVERTISEMENT
looked up from her laptop.
“That was surprisingly civil.”
“She’s not my enemy,” Sienna said. “She’s just someone who backed the wrong horse.”
“What about Beatatrice?”
Sienna thought of the slap. The twisted wrist. The venom.
“No,” she said. “Beatatrice gets no mercy.”
Three weeks later, Sienna stood before the Chicago Business Council.
Two hundred of the continue reading …
ADVERTISEMENT