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.

Damien's arm was a steel bar crushing Giovanna's ribs. He held her pinned against his chest, refusing to let an inch of space exist between them.

"Oakhaven?" His voice was a low, dangerous growl vibrating against her back. "You are not stepping one foot outside those gates."

Giovanna felt the heavy, rapid thud of his heart against her spine. It wasn't anger. It was pure, blinding panic. His body was reacting to the physical threat of losing her.

She didn't fight him. She knew struggling would only trigger his predator instincts to lock her in a cage.

Instead, she let all the tension drain from her muscles. She slumped backward, letting him support her entire body weight.

She reached up, her small hands wrapping over the thick wrists caging her waist. She turned in his grip until she faced him. She lifted her hands and cupped his tense, rigid face.

"D, look at me," Giovanna said. Her voice was steady, calm, an anchor in his storm.

Damien's breathing was harsh. His dark eyes locked onto hers, bloodshot and wild, searching for the lie.

"I am going to Oakhaven," Giovanna explained softly, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones, "because Elara is going to be at the freshman assembly today. She stole what rightfully belongs to me, and I refuse to let her keep it." She paused, letting the words sink in. "I need to look her in the eye and take it back."

At the mention of Elara's name, the frantic panic in Damien's eyes paused. A flicker of cold calculation replaced it.

Giovanna's lips curved into a sharp, predatory smile. "I'm going to take back what belongs to me. And I'm going to crush her pride in front of the entire school."

Damien stared at her. The raw, naked ambition and thirst for revenge in her eyes was completely foreign to the fragile girl he thought he knew. It was intoxicating.

But his jaw remained locked. "And if I say no?" he rasped.

Giovanna sighed. She stepped closer, rising onto her toes. She opened her mouth and bit down hard on the sharp line of his jaw.

The sudden, sharp pain shocked Damien. He gasped, his grip on her waist loosening just a fraction.

Giovanna immediately looped her arms around his neck. She rubbed her nose against his, her breath mixing with his.

"You can send your most trusted driver," she ordered, her voice dripping with honey and absolute bossiness. "You can have your bodyguards follow me in the shadows."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "But you have to let me go. Because when I come back tonight, I have a surprise for you."

The heavy, sexual promise in her words, combined with the physical weight of her body clinging to him, shattered the last of his resistance.

Damien closed his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the beast inside him back into its cage.

He opened his eyes. He grabbed the back of her neck and crashed his mouth down on hers. It was a punishing, desperate kiss, branding her as his.

A minute later, he pulled back. He was breathing hard. His thumb roughly wiped the moisture from her swollen bottom lip.

He turned his head and spoke to the empty air. "Tell Ray to bring the armored Maybach around."

Victor, his personal assistant who always lingered in the shadows, materialized by the door and spoke into his radio.

Damien kept his hand on the small of her back, escorting her to the grand foyer. He personally draped a light trench coat over her shoulders.

The massive, black armored Maybach idled at the bottom of the stone steps. Ray, the driver, stood holding the rear door open.

Giovanna slid into the plush leather seat. She rolled down the tinted window and looked up at Damien standing on the steps.

"See you tonight, my dictator," she teased, blowing him a kiss.

The Maybach pulled away, tires crunching on the gravel. Damien stood frozen on the steps. He reached up, his fingers brushing the faint bite mark on his jaw. A slow, dark smile finally broke across his face.