Read a preview
Chapter 1
Chapter One: Orientation
On her first morning at Kensington & Vale, Sienna Clarke learned two truths.
One: coffee didn’t save you here—it simply kept you awake while the work consumed you. Two: the elevator doors were the cleanest mirrors in the city, which mattered because the partners noticed everything, starting with whether you showed up looking like you understood what this place demanded.
She smoothed a hand over her slate dress and watched forty floors of glass and ambition blur past. The city fell away beneath her, a gray-blue grid. She was twenty-four, top of her MBA class, and not interested in being anyone’s fetch-and-file intern. She had a point to prove. The firm’s motto—We set the terms—smiled back at her from every wall, every framed league table. She was going to set a few of her own.
HR pushed a folder into her hands, rattled off keycards, compliance training, nondisclosures, and an ominous “stay out of the partners’ way unless invited.” Sienna nodded along, filed it, and began absorbing the room.
By noon she’d found the war room and a wobbly chair, devoured a data room like it was lunch, and corrected an analyst’s model quietly and cleanly. The email she got back—“Good catch.”—made her smile. If they wanted tidy, she could do that. If they wanted claws, she had those, too.
At four, the rumor sprinted through the floor like a spark: Julian Vale’s assistant just quit.
Heads popped up. Keyboards slowed. Even the printers seemed to hush. Sienna didn’t bother pretending she didn’t know the name. You couldn’t work in finance without knowing it. Vale’s deals set the city’s pace. So did his reputation. Brilliant. Precise. Surgical. Unforgiving. A partner whose calendar meant more than god’s.
An hour later, HR’s “no partners unless invited” turned into a “You’re invited.”
“Temporary,” the coordinator said, not quite meeting her eyes. “Until a replacement is found.”
Sienna felt the thrill at the base of her throat and the jolt of nerves a second later. It wasn’t fear. It was a challenge.
“Which floor?” she asked, already gathering her notes.
“Top.”
Of course.
