Chapter 5

Adrian leaves early with his luggage, claiming he needs to go to Chicago for final pre-wedding business meetings and won't return for two days. He plants a hasty kiss on my forehead, his tone as tender as ever: "Take care of yourself, darling. I'll be back soon."

The door closes behind him. I stand in place, listening to the elevator descend, my face expressionless.

Of course he's not going to Chicago. I know where he's really headed—that Upper East Side apartment where Chloe and her unborn child wait. Last night I glimpsed his phone schedule: he's booked today for Chloe's prenatal checkup, plus a private shopping session at a high-end baby boutique.

It's time.

I begin my final preparations. First, I change into nondescript dark athletic wear and check my backpack one last time. Inside: Elena's complete documents, encrypted phone, small amounts of non-sequential cash, and my mother's pearl necklace. This is my only connection to the past.

Next, I handle my last few personal items. Those things I can't take—jewelry and journals with distinctly "Sienna" characteristics—I place in a fireproof metal box, drive to a remote wooded area outside the city, and bury deep underground. They will disappear from this world along with "Sienna."

Then I go to a noisy internet café downtown and send scheduled emails to several preset addresses. One email to Adrian will automatically send 24 hours after the "accident," mentioning pre-wedding stress and needing solitude, providing reasonable motivation for my "suicide."

By the time I finish, it's evening. The sky is overcast, rain falling lightly—perfect for my plan. I drive the secondhand car that will soon complete its mission, calmly heading toward the Hudson River.

En route, Adrian calls. The background is quiet, but I can hear faint soft music—Chloe's favorite playlist.

"Darling, I'm in Chicago. How was your day?" His voice carries manufactured longing.

"Fine." I watch the rain ahead. "Just handling some final preparations."

"Don't tire yourself out." His tone is relaxed. "When I get back, we'll only have one week left!"

Yes, one final week. I almost laugh.

"Have a good meeting," I say calmly, then hang up.

Arriving at the predetermined river section, I park the car in a concealed spot. Mr. Smith appears as scheduled, handing me a waterproof package.

"The boat's waiting downstream. Remember, from the moment you hit the water, Sienna Williams ceases to exist."

I take the package and nod.

Back in the car, I take a deep breath and start the engine. The windshield wipers move rhythmically, clearing the blurred view. I adjust the steering wheel, aiming at that precisely calculated slope along the riverbank.

My foot slams the accelerator. The car surges forward, breaking through the rain, plunging into the cold, dark Hudson River.

Water rushes in instantly. Before the car is completely submerged, I quickly unbuckle my seatbelt, using the chaos created by a micro-explosive device to slip through the pre-damaged window, swimming with all my strength toward that patch of reeds downstream.

Behind me, the sinking car leaves only ripples that are quickly scattered by raindrops.

Sienna's life officially ends at this moment.