The text message to Natasha was simple, almost polite.

“Good afternoon, Natasha. Please let your sister know today’s little stunt was noted. I’m extending her the benefit of the doubt this once, but I suggest she never repeats it, or else she’ll curse the day she walked into the Wellington Family Office. I prefer professionalism to theatrics.”

Warm regards,

Sierra.

I read it twice before pressing send. No anger. No exclamation marks. Just measured words that could chill through silk. ...