Alexis shuffled down the long hospital corridor, keeping her shoulder pressed against the wall for balance. She stopped at the nurses' station, signed the Against Medical Advice discharge papers with a shaking hand, and accepted the massive bill she had no way of paying.

She pushed through the revolving glass doors of the main entrance.

From his vantage point in the Maybach parked securely across the street, Jarrett watched the hospital entrance, his jaw tight. He had instructed Bruno to wait here, a grim premonition telling him her ordeal was far from over.

The harsh afternoon sun hit her eyes, making her head throb violently. The cold wind whipped around her bare legs beneath the hospital gown. She took a deep breath of the freezing air, trying to clear the dizziness, and stepped onto the sidewalk.

A screech of tires shattered the street noise.

A cherry-red Porsche Macan swerved sharply toward the curb, cutting off her path. The car jerked to a halt.

The driver's side door popped open. Josie stepped out. She was dressed in a pristine white Chanel winter coat, her hair perfectly blown out, oversized designer sunglasses hiding half her face.

Josie pulled off the sunglasses and looked Alexis up and down. A loud, exaggerated scoff escaped her glossy lips.

"Look at you," Josie sneered, waving a manicured hand in front of her nose as if Alexis smelled. "You look like a diseased stray dog."

Alexis stared at her with dead eyes. She didn't have the energy for this. She stepped to the side, attempting to walk around the front of the Porsche.

Josie moved quickly, side-stepping to block her again. She reached into her expensive leather tote bag and pulled out a thick legal document.

She slapped the paper hard against Alexis's chest.

"Sign the NDA," Josie demanded. "You agree to never speak to the press about the divorce, the bankruptcy, or Carlos. You disappear quietly."

Alexis looked down at the paper. A cold, bitter laugh scraped its way up her throat. She grabbed the document, gripped the edges, and ripped it in half, then in quarters. She let the pieces fall from her hands, scattering into the dirty slush on the sidewalk.

Josie's face tightened with fury. Then, a cruel, wicked smile spread across her lips.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen and shoved it inches from Alexis's face.

The screen displayed a high-resolution photo of a black marble urn sitting on a metal table.

"Aunt Dollie bought off the funeral home," Josie said, her voice dripping with venom. "We have August's ashes."

Alexis felt a physical blow to her stomach. Her eyes widened in absolute horror. She lunged forward, her hands shooting out to grab the lapels of Josie's pristine white coat.

"Give him back!" Alexis screamed, her voice cracking, her fingers twisting the expensive fabric. "Give my father back!"

Josie shoved her violently.

Alexis, weak from blood loss and shock, stumbled backward. Her heel caught on a crack in the pavement. She fell hard, her knees slamming into the concrete, the wound on her forehead throbbing as fresh blood began to seep through the gauze.

Josie stood over her, adjusting her coat. "Sign the new papers I send you, and leave the state. Or I swear to God, I will dump this urn straight into the Hudson River."

Alexis sat on the freezing ground, her whole body shaking uncontrollably. The absolute despair threatened to crush her chest.

Fifty feet away, sitting in the back of the parked Maybach, Jarrett watched the entire scene through the tinted glass. The leather steering wheel creaked under the pressure of his grip.

He pushed the heavy door open and stepped out into the cold.

Josie didn't notice the towering figure approaching. She opened her designer wallet and pulled out a thick stack of crisp, hundred-dollar bills.

She held the money out, pinching it between two fingers.

"Here," Josie mocked, opening her fingers.

The green bills fluttered down, raining over Alexis's head and shoulders, landing in the dirty puddles around her knees.

"Pick it up, beggar," Josie commanded sharply. "Crawl on your knees and pick it up."

A bitter gust of wind swept across the pavement, lifting a few of the hundred-dollar bills and blowing them against Alexis's blood-stained hospital gown.

A small crowd of pedestrians had stopped to watch. Several people pulled out their phones, the camera lenses focused on the pathetic sight of the fallen heiress.

Josie crossed her arms, tapping the toe of her designer boot impatiently. "I said pick it up. Or the ashes go in the river tonight."

Just as Josie spoke, a black Range Rover pulled up aggressively behind the Porsche. Carlos threw open the door and stepped out, a smug grin plastered on his face. He walked over and wrapped his arm around Josie's waist, looking down at Alexis with utter contempt.

"Look at her," Carlos laughed, the sound grating like sandpaper against Alexis's ears. "Not so arrogant now, are you?"

Alexis closed her eyes. The image of the black marble urn burned in her mind. She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached. She slowly reached her trembling hand forward, her fingers stretching toward a bill lying in a puddle of dirty slush.

Just as her fingertips brushed the wet paper, a heavy, custom-made Italian leather shoe stepped firmly onto the bill, pinning it to the concrete.

Alexis froze. She followed the sharp crease of the dark suit trousers upward, past a narrow waist, broad shoulders, and finally met Jarrett's pitch-black, furious eyes.

Jarrett's massive frame blocked out the sun, casting a long, protective shadow entirely over Alexis.

He bent down. He didn't look at the money. He wrapped his large, warm hand around Alexis's thin wrist and pulled her upward with a smooth, unstoppable force.

Carlos and Josie jumped back, startled by the sudden appearance of the imposing stranger.

Carlos felt the suffocating aura of power rolling off the man. He instinctively took a step back, his bravado faltering. "Who the hell are you?" Carlos demanded, his voice cracking slightly.

Jarrett completely ignored him. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dark silk handkerchief.

He lowered his head, his focus entirely on Alexis. With slow, meticulous movements, he wiped the dirty slush from her fingertips, treating her hand as if it were made of fragile glass.

The blatant dismissal hit Carlos like a physical blow. His fragile ego flared into violent rage. "I'm talking to you, asshole!" Carlos yelled, lunging forward and reaching out to shove Jarrett's shoulder.

Jarrett didn't even turn his head.

As Carlos's hand came within inches of his suit, Jarrett shifted his weight. His left hand shot out like a striking snake. He clamped his fingers around Carlos's wrist, twisted his body, and snapped his arm downward with brutal, calculated torque.

A loud, sickening pop echoed over the street noise.

Carlos let out a high-pitched, agonizing scream. He dropped to his knees, cradling his dislocated wrist against his chest, his face turning pale green.

Josie shrieked, jumping back against the Porsche. "You maniac! I'm calling the cops!"

Jarrett released Carlos's arm, letting him collapse onto the pavement. He tossed the soiled silk handkerchief directly onto Carlos's face in a gesture of absolute disgust.

He finally turned his dark, lethal gaze onto the two of them. "Loud," Jarrett muttered, his voice a low, terrifying rumble.

Alexis stood behind him, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She stared at his broad back. This gigolo possessed a level of violence and authority that completely dwarfed Carlos.

A reckless, desperate plan formed in her mind. If her reputation was already ruined, she would use this man as her weapon.

Alexis took a step forward. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Jarrett's waist from behind, pressing her cheek against the solid muscle of his back.

Carlos looked up, groaning in pain, his eyes widening in shock and furious jealousy at the sight of his ex-wife clinging to another man.

Josie pointed a shaking finger at Alexis. "You shameless whore! You just got divorced and you're already screwing some street thug!"

Alexis ignored the insult. She stepped around Jarrett, moving to his front. She reached up, grabbed the lapels of his expensive suit jacket, and pulled herself up onto her tiptoes.