The Billionaire's Heir I Never Knew Was Mine

Sienna’s words earned a short laugh from Riley, though it faded quickly.

"Wow, your humor is back. That means you are all right there," Riley teases.

She chuckled lightly. "Come on... be serious."

He cleared his throat before responding, "Don’t worry... Whoever sent that text is just bluffing."

But Sienna didn’t feel reassured, not even a little. Her fingers tightened around her phone. She wanted to believe him, but something in her gut refused to settle.

After a moment of silence—

Sienna spoke again, interrupting Riley’s attempts to calm her down. "Riley," she said, her voice calm but firm, "I need your help..."

Riley’s brow knitted slightly. "Help?"

"Yes." She nods as if Riley could see her. "Can you find a hacker for me?"

There was a pause. Then Riley’s shocked voice echoed from the other end, "...What? Y-You need a hacker?"

"I mean, do you have a friend who can trace a phone number? That kind of job?" She asked.

Before Riley could say anything, she continued, "And I also need you to investigate Angie. I want to know where she is now, after she was fired from the Imperial Hotel. Has she found a new job yet?"

This time, the silence on the other end lasted longer. Still, Sienna didn’t interrupt him. She waited.

Took a few more seconds before a low chuckle could be heard from the speaker.

"Sienna," Riley finally spoke. This time, his voice sounded amused and slightly impressed. "Are you serious about doing that? Since when have you wanted to connect with a hacker?"

Sienna didn’t hesitate as she replied, "Yes, I’m serious. Because I trust my instincts, I believe that person has malice toward me. I can’t ignore the threat."

There was no humor in her voice now. No doubt. Just certainty.

Another pause followed, shorter this time.

"Okay," Riley finally responded. "I will try to do something about it. Send me the number..."

Relief didn’t come immediately, but something inside her loosened just a little. "I will send it right away."

Sienna was about to end the call when suddenly Riley stopped her, "Wait, Sienna—"

"Yes? What’s wrong?"

"What about your situation there? I mean, in your hometown."

The question made her whole body tense as she remembered lying to him the night before. She said in their chat group that she is in her hometown now, but in reality, she is on her mini vacation, working as a private chef.

’Should I tell him that my father wants to sell me to the gangster?’ she wonders, but dismisses the thought right away.

She didn’t want to shock Riley if he heard it on the phone. She needs to tell him in person.

"...Well, it’s complicated," she said carefully. "But I’ll tell you everything on Monday. In person."

There was a brief pause.

Luckily, Riley didn’t push her further. "I will wait."

She exhaled softly, feeling relieved. "Thank you, Riley."

"Always," he replied lightly.

"Alright, you can go back to sleep. See ya on Monday."

After she ended the call, the silence returned almost immediately. But now, it feels different. It feels heavier.

Only the faint sound of birds singing outside drifted in through the window, soft and peaceful, completely unaware of the tension in her chest.

Sienna gently set her phone back down beside her. Then glanced out the window once more, hoping to ease her worried mind and find a moment of peace outside.

She could see that the garden was still beautiful. The sunlight was still warm. The world outside was still calm.

But her heart? Still not settled.

...

The day passed more quickly than Sienna expected.

At some point between breakfast, cleaning, preparing snacks, and managing lunch, time had simply slipped through her fingers without asking for permission.

What surprised her most wasn’t how quickly the hours passed, but how light everything felt. She didn’t feel tired and overwhelmed. And most importantly... she wasn’t counting the minutes until it was over.

For someone who had spent most of her recent days juggling stress, debt, and complex family problems, this was new.

Still, she didn’t question it too much. Instead, she focused on what she was good at—cooking. From slicing vegetables to plating dishes, everything flowed naturally. The kitchen no longer felt like an unfamiliar space; it felt like hers.

And her "clients" were more than satisfied.

Zachary, as expected, kept his compliments simple but sincere. Nothing exaggerated, nothing unnecessary.

But Skylar? The little boss was an entirely different story. He had no such restraint.

She had lost count of how many thumbs-up he gave her throughout the day. At one point, she was convinced he might start rating her meals out of ten, complete with commentary.

"Aunty... this taco is a nine-point-nine! I like it..." he said at lunch, nodding seriously.

"Why not ten?" Sienna asked, genuinely curious.

Skylar paused, thinking carefully. "Because... I haven’t tried the dessert yet."

She can’t help but smile. Strangely... Skylar’s small, honest approval means more to her than she expected.

By the afternoon, a quiet thought began forming in Sienna’s mind.

’What if...I did this long-term?’

Becoming a private chef for wealthy families didn’t sound so bad. The work was steady, the environment calm, and the appreciation... surprisingly real.

Her lips curved slightly as a thought crossed her mind.

’Maybe one day I should open a small restaurant. Not a big or fancy one. Just a cozy place with good food, warm lighting, chill-out music, and customers who come back because they love the food and the ambiance, not just one over the other... Should I?’

The thought alone made her feel... happy. She felt a rare, quiet happiness slip into her heart.

However, that peaceful train of thought didn’t last long.

Because while she was preparing dinner later that evening, she felt a presence not far from her.

Sienna turned back, surprised to see Zachary standing by the kitchen island, his posture straight, his expression... intense.

Her heart tightened almost immediately.

His look? That was not the look of a man who came to casually watch someone cook. Nor was it the look of someone about to make a joke. No. But it was the look of a man with something meaningful on his mind.