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The world outside glittered with the cold, polished beauty of a painting untouched by time. Stark Tower's private rooftop restaurant sat high above the city like a gleaming fortress, its floor-to-ceiling glass walls framing the endless skyline. The lights of the city shimmered against the glass, distant and untouchable, as if the chaos of the world below could never breach the serenity of this place. Inside, the atmosphere hummed with the quiet opulence of wealth and privilege. The low murmur of elite conversation mingled with the delicate clink of crystal glasses, while the faint strains of a piano floated through the air, lending a touch of understated elegance to the evening. Here, everything seemed perfect, untouchable-yet Sienna felt the stark isolation beneath the surface.
Sienna Stark gazed out at the sprawling city below, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her champagne glass. The hum of conversation around her seemed distant, the laughter too perfect, the celebration too practiced-like life was moving on without her. She turned her attention to the table. Tony, Pepper, and a few key figures from Stark Industries sat around her, draped in designer suits and elegant evening gowns, their faces glowing softly in the flicker of candlelight that danced across the pristine white tablecloth.
It was another night of triumph-another milestone for Stark Industries, another victory in the legacy their father had built from the ground up. The others basked in the success, but for Sienna, the moment felt stifling. An unseen weight pressed against her chest, making each breath shallow, her champagne glass heavier in her hand. She should have been able to let go, to lose herself in the victory like everyone else, but the knot of unease twisted inside her, refusing to let her settle.
Tony, seated across from her, was in full swing-hands gesturing animatedly as he regaled Pepper with yet another one of his stories, his laughter echoing across the room like it was the easiest thing in the world. But Sienna had spent too many years by his side not to notice the cracks beneath his charming façade. The sleepless nights he couldn't quite hide, the rigid set of his jaw when he thought no one was paying attention, the way his fingers would tap an anxious rhythm on the table when his mind wandered too far into the shadows.
She took a measured sip of her champagne, the bubbles a fleeting distraction against her tongue. Another victory for Stark Industries. Another reason to celebrate. Yet, despite the glittering success of the evening, something felt wrong. Off. Like the air was heavier tonight.
Steve Rogers stood stationed by the entrance of the private dining room, his broad silhouette cast against the city lights filtering through the glass wall behind him. Ten years had passed since he'd taken up his post as Tony's bodyguard-ever since the accident that had changed everything. He'd become more than just protection; he was part of the family now. Quiet, reliable, always there, watching over them like a silent guardian. Though his stance appeared relaxed, Sienna knew better. Steve was always on alert, his eyes constantly scanning the room, reading the space like a soldier anticipating the next move.
