006. Trapped Ectasy

Sierra’s POV

Leila’s words echoed in my mind like a haunting tune I couldn’t shut off. The smugness in her voice, the footage on her phone, and the poisonous grin she wore as she claimed her pregnancy—it all circled around me, clouding every shred of reason I had left.

Her words were like daggers. Jordan’s baby?

I gripped the edge of the taxi seat, staring out at the quiet streets of Crystal Bay, but the world outside was nothing but a blur. I was too tangled up in disbelief to notice the bright lights or the hum of passing cars. How could this be true? How could my sister—my own blood—be capable of this?

And Jordan…

I couldn’t even say his name in my head without anger bubbling up. Was he part of this, or was Leila lying? The evidence on that phone was there—raw and damning. But no matter how many times I replayed the scene, I still couldn’t make sense of it.

When the taxi pulled up to the Pierce mansion, I stepped out on autopilot. My legs felt like jelly, and every step I took toward the towering front doors felt heavier than the last. The house loomed above me, its bright lights cutting through the darkness.

What had once felt like a home—a fortress meant to protect me—now felt like a prison.

Jordan was waiting inside, standing in the hallway like he knew I was coming. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, but there was something softer in his eyes when they met mine.

“Sierra,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. He took a step toward me, then stopped, hesitating like he wasn’t sure if he should come closer.

I lifted a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “Don’t come near me. Don’t say anything to smooth this over.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s going on? What happened?”

I crossed my arms, fighting the wave of emotions bubbling under my skin. “Leila,” I spat, her name sharp and bitter on my tongue. “She showed me a video, Jordan. A video of the two of you… together. She says she’s pregnant. Your baby.”

The words hung in the air like poison, and I saw something flash in his eyes—something I couldn’t read. Anger? Fear? Guilt?

“She’s lying,” he said finally, his voice low but steady. “Sierra, whatever she showed you, it’s fake. She’s trying to manipulate you. Don’t let her win.”

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound foreign even to me. “Fake? Jordan, I saw it. I saw the video. And it looked real enough to me.”

“She’s jealous,” he said, stepping closer, his hands raised as if to show he meant no harm. “She’s jealous of us. She’s trying to tear us apart.”

“Us?” I scoffed, taking a step back. “What us, Jordan? What do we even have? A marriage built on lies? Betrayal?”

He flinched at my words, his jaw tightening as though they physically hurt him. “I know I’ve made mistakes,” he said softly, his voice raw. “But I’m telling you, Sierra, this isn’t one of them. Just give me time. Let me prove it to you.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted so badly to believe that he wasn’t the man in that video, that this wasn’t real. But the weight of everything—the betrayal, the claims, the guarded way Jordan had always carried himself—pressed down on me.

“Fine,” I said finally, my voice cold. “Prove it. But don’t expect me to act like everything’s okay. Because it’s not.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, but he nodded. “I will,” he said. “I promise.”

***

The next few days were like walking through a fog. Jordan and I barely spoke, and when we did, it was short and distant, like we were strangers living under the same roof.

I couldn’t stand the tension, so I threw myself into anything that would distract me. I called old friends, agreeing to lunches, shopping trips, and late nights at clubs. It didn’t matter what I did as long as it kept my mind off the mansion and the chaos inside it.

But no matter how loud the music was, no matter how many people were around me, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jordan.

Was he still trying to uncover the truth? Or was he with Leila, proving that the video wasn’t a lie?

The questions were endless, eating away at me until I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

***

One night, I sat in the corner booth of a dimly lit bar, a half-empty drink in front of me and laughter ringing in my ears. My friends were chatting, their voices blending with the music, but I wasn’t really listening.

My phone buzzed on the table, and I glanced down to see Jordan’s name on the screen. My stomach twisted.

I picked it up, hesitating for a moment before answering. “What do you want?”

“Sierra,” he said, his tone softer than I expected. “Where are you?”

“Out,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.

“I noticed,” he replied. “You’ve been out a lot lately.”

“Is that a problem?” I snapped, more defensive than I intended.

“No,” he said quickly. “I just… I miss you.”

The words caught me off guard, hitting me like a soft punch to the chest. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

But before I could respond, the line went dead.

I stared at the screen in confusion, my heart racing. “Jordan?” I said, trying to call him back. But it went straight to voicemail.

Something wasn’t right.

Jordan never hung up like that. He never left a call unanswered. A cold knot of fear formed in my stomach, and I felt the walls of the bar close in around me.

I tried calling again, but there was no answer.

My chest tightened as a thousand terrible thoughts ran through my head. What if he had involved himself in danger? Jordan, as I know him, have too many enemies. What if something had happened?

The laughter around me faded, the music dulling into a distant beat. I clutched the phone tightly in my hand, my heart pounding as dread settled over me. Whatever was happening, I knew one thing for certain. Jordan was in trouble.