Giovanna stood in the massive walk-in closet. She bypassed the flashy, revealing clothes she used to wear to annoy Damien. She pulled out a tailored, burgundy Ivy League-style dress. The high collar perfectly hid the marks on her neck.

When she walked out, Damien was waiting by the bedroom door. He wore a dark, bespoke suit that cost more than most people's houses. His eyes swept over her, still calculating, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Giovanna didn't hesitate. She walked up to him and slid her hand through the crook of his arm.

They walked down the sweeping marble staircase together.

The maids dusting the foyer stopped moving. They stared, their mouths slightly open, shocked to see the master of the house and his volatile wife walking arm-in-arm without screaming at each other.

They entered the long dining room. Damien pulled out a chair for her at the mahogany table before taking his seat at the head.

A maid placed a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Giovanna. Damien had always ordered it for her, thinking she liked it.

Giovanna pushed the coffee away. She reach for the glass of warm, sweet milk meant for her oatmeal. She lifted the glass and playfully clinked it against Damien's coffee mug.

Before Damien could process the change, a low, sharp beep sounded from the earpiece of the head of security standing by the door.

The security chief stepped forward. "Boss. Elara Vang is at the front gate."

The air in the room dropped ten degrees. Damien's face turned to stone. "Deny entry."

Giovanna knew Elara would come. She reached across the table and placed her hand over Damien's clenched fist.

"D," she said softly, her thumb rubbing over his white knuckles. "Let her in. I have some things I need to say to my dear sister."

Damien stared at her hand on his. He looked up, his dark eyes searching hers. He hated it, but he gave a sharp nod to the security chief.

Three minutes later, the dining room doors burst open.

Elara rushed in. She wore a pristine white designer skirt suit. Her eyes were already rimmed with red, her face the perfect picture of frantic worry.

She completely ignored Damien. She ran straight toward Giovanna, reaching out to grab her hands.

"Gio!" Elara cried out, her voice trembling with fake tears. "Are you okay? Did he force you again last night?"

The silence in the dining room became suffocating. The killing intent rolling off Damien's body was a physical weight in the air.

Elara waited for the explosion. She waited for Giovanna to scream, to throw her milk at Damien, to demand to leave.

Giovanna didn't move. She picked up a linen napkin, elegantly dabbed the corner of her mouth, and slowly stood up.

She sidestepped Elara's reaching hands. She looked at her sister the way one looks at a rotting piece of meat on the sidewalk.

Elara's hands fell to her sides. A cold spike of panic hit her stomach. This wasn't the script.

Giovanna took a step forward, closing the distance.

Without a single change in her expression, Giovanna raised her right hand and slapped Elara across the face.

The crack of skin against skin echoed off the high ceiling like a gunshot. The force of the blow threw Elara off balance. She crashed hard onto the polished wood floor.

The maids gasped. Even Damien's eyes widened a fraction of an inch.

Elara held her rapidly swelling cheek. She stared up at Giovanna, genuine shock replacing the fake tears. "Are you crazy?! I'm trying to help you!"

Giovanna looked down at her. A cruel, mocking smile touched her lips.

"Help me?" Giovanna's voice was crystal clear, making sure every person in the room heard her. "Or help me piss off my husband?"

She turned her head. She looked right at Damien. Her smile softened into something incredibly warm.

"Listen closely, Elara," Giovanna said, her eyes never leaving Damien's. "He is my beloved husband. I will not tolerate you disrespecting him in our home."

Damien's chest hitched. The dark, violent storm in his eyes vanished, replaced by a burning, obsessive heat. The words 'beloved husband' wrapped around his heart and squeezed tight.

Elara sat on the floor, clutching her red cheek. Large, fat tears spilled over her lashes. The victim routine was her default setting.

She looked past Giovanna, aiming her watery eyes directly at Damien sitting at the head of the table.

"Damien, please," Elara sobbed, her voice shaking. "Look at her. She's having another episode. She's not mentally stable. I was only trying to protect her from herself."

Damien didn't blink. He felt absolutely nothing for the crying woman on his floor, except a deep, sickening disgust that she was trying to paint his wife as crazy.

He pushed his chair back. The heavy wood scraped loudly against the floor. He stood up, his massive frame radiating pure violence. He was going to drag her out by her hair himself.

Giovanna saw his muscles coil. She stepped back, placing her hand flat against the center of Damien's chest. She patted his silk tie twice, a silent command to let her handle it.

She turned and walked to the edge of the dining table. She picked up the smartphone Damien had given her as a wedding gift, a device she had previously thrown in a drawer and ignored.

Her thumb swiped across the screen, pulling up the blocked messages folder she had ignored in her past life.

She spun around and shoved the glowing screen inches from Elara's tear-stained face.

"Let's read this one," Giovanna said, her voice dead flat. "'Gio, if he touches you tonight, smash a vase over his head. I have a car waiting outside.'"

Elara's breath hitched. The blood drained from her face, leaving her pale and sickly. She never thought Giovanna would expose their private texts.

Giovanna scrolled down with her thumb. "Oh, here's a good one. 'Remember, the harder you fight, the more disgusted he'll get. He'll divorce you eventually.'"

The maids in the room shifted uncomfortably. The pity in their eyes vanished, replaced by hard, judgmental stares aimed at Elara.

Damien's hands curled into fists at his sides. His knuckles turned bone-white. The puzzle pieces slammed together in his head. The source of Giovanna's suicidal rebellion wasn't just her; it was the poison being dripped into her ear.

"That's fake!" Elara shrieked, scrambling backward on the floor. She lunged, trying to snatch the phone. "I never sent those!"

Giovanna easily sidestepped the clumsy grab. She shoved Elara's shoulder hard, sending her tumbling back onto the floor.

Giovanna slipped the phone into her dress pocket. She looked down, her eyes filled with pure contempt. "Fake? Do you want me to have the telecom company pull the IP logs and cell tower pings?"

Elara's mind went blank. Her perfect, innocent sister routine was crumbling into dust.

Giovanna crouched down. She leaned in close, her lips hovering right next to Elara's ear.

"I know," Giovanna whispered, her voice a deadly hiss meant only for Elara. "I know you wanted me to run away so you could crawl into his bed."

Elara's pupils dilated in absolute terror. Her chest heaved. She stared at Giovanna like she was looking at a ghost.

Giovanna stood up. She brushed her hands together, as if wiping away dirt.

She looked around the room, making eye contact with the maids who had been secretly reporting to Elara. Her gaze was like a physical blade.

"Take a good look," Giovanna said, her voice ringing with absolute authority. "This is the kind, innocent second daughter of the Vang family."

Elara knew she was losing. She needed an out. She grabbed the fabric over her chest, her breathing turning into ragged, loud gasps.

She slumped against the leg of a heavy dining chair, letting out a weak, pathetic moan. The fake heart attack.

In her past life, Giovanna would have panicked and begged Damien to call a doctor.

Now, Giovanna just stared at her. A cold, bloodthirsty smile stretched across her face.

She turned her head to look at the security chief standing by the door.

"Since she's so sick," Giovanna ordered, her tone casual and lethal, "call her an ambulance. And while we wait, throw her out the front gates."

The dining room fell dead silent.

The security chief stood frozen by the door. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Elara Vang was a frequent guest, and the Vang family had deep ties. Throwing her out like trash was a massive escalation.

His eyes darted past Giovanna, landing directly on Damien. He needed the real boss to give the green light.

Elara saw the hesitation. A spark of hope ignited in her chest. She kept clutching her heart, but her tear-filled eyes locked onto Damien, silently begging for mercy.

Giovanna didn't yell at the guard. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head to look at Damien. She waited. This was a test.

Damien slowly stood up from the table. His long fingers reached down, methodically buttoning the center button of his suit jacket.

He walked around the table until he stood right behind Giovanna. He wrapped his heavy arm around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. It was a blatant, physical claim of ownership.

Damien stared at the security chief. His eyes were completely dead. His voice dropped to a terrifying, sub-zero register.

"Did you not hear my wife's order?"

The security chief flinched as if he had been struck. He snapped his spine straight. "Yes, Boss! Right away!"

"And from now on," Damien added, his voice echoing in the large room, "my wife's orders are my orders. Disobeying her is disobeying me. The consequences will be exactly the same."

The words hit the room like a bomb. It was a complete transfer of power. Giovanna wasn't just a wife on paper anymore; she was the absolute ruler of the Blackwood empire.

Two massive bodyguards stepped forward. They grabbed Elara by her upper arms, hauling her off the floor.

Elara panicked. The fake heart attack vanished. She kicked her legs, her expensive heels scraping against the floorboards. "Let me go! Damien, you can't do this! I'm a Vang!"

The guards ignored her screams. They dragged her backward out of the dining room, down the long hallway, and out the front doors.

Giovanna leaned back against Damien's solid chest. She watched through the large windows as the guards hauled Elara down the long driveway and literally tossed her out the wrought-iron gates.

Elara hit the cold asphalt hard. Her pristine white skirt was covered in dirt.

A few luxury cars driving past the estate slowed down. The wealthy occupants rolled down their windows, pointing and whispering at the disgraced socialite sitting in the dirt.

Elara bit her lip so hard it bled. The humiliation burned her skin.

Inside the dining room, the maids rushed to clean the spot where Elara had been sitting, scrubbing the floor as if removing a toxic spill.

Damien looked down at the top of Giovanna's head. His chest rose and fell heavily.

He reached up, his thick fingers gripping her chin. He tilted her head back, forcing her to look up into his dark, searching eyes.

"Are you satisfied now?" Damien asked, his voice a low rumble. "You used me to get rid of her. What exactly are you planning?"

He gave her the power, but his deeply ingrained paranoia wouldn't let him believe this was real.

Giovanna didn't pull away from his grip. She looked straight into the storm in his eyes and rose onto her toes.

She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I plan," she whispered against his skin, "to only be a problem for you from now on."

Damien's heart physically skipped a beat. The heavy walls in his mind cracked a little more.

Giovanna stepped back, breaking the tension. She glanced at the antique grandfather clock in the corner.

"Oh, no," she gasped, her eyes widening. "I have to go to Oakhaven University for the freshman orientation today!"

The word 'university'. The concept of 'leaving the estate'.

The air around Damien instantly froze. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by a terrifying, suffocating darkness.

His arm clamped around her waist, tightening like a vice, pulling her so hard against him it knocked the breath out of her lungs. His eyes turned feral.