The Maybach returned to Blackwater Bay. Hollis ordered the guards to double their patrol outside her door.

Carole sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands were shaking. Hollis's threat echoed in her ears. She could not let him touch her parents.

She watched the clock on the wall. At exactly 1:00 PM, a maid pushed a silver food cart into the room.

Carole noticed the bottom half of the cart. It was a large storage cabinet covered by a black cloth, used for dirty dishes. It was big enough to fit a person.

Carole stood up. She grabbed her glass of red wine and intentionally knocked it over. The dark liquid spilled all over the white rug.

"Look what you made me do!" Carole yelled, acting completely unhinged.

The maid gasped and dropped to her knees, trying to wipe the stain.

"Get a proper cleaner!" Carole screamed. "Get out and fix this!"

The maid scrambled out of the room, leaving the door cracked open.

Carole moved instantly. She opened the bottom cabinet of the cart. She pulled out the empty trays and shoved them under the bed.

She crawled into the tight space and pulled the black cloth down. She curled her knees to her chest. It smelled like old cheese and bleach.

Five minutes later, the maid returned. She scrubbed the floor, crying softly. Carole held her breath.

"I am taking the cart now, Miss," the maid said to the empty room.

The cart jerked forward. Carole felt the wheels rolling over the carpet.

The cart stopped at the door.

"She is in the bathroom," the maid told the guards.

One of the guards lifted the black cloth slightly. Light hit Carole's boots. She squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she was caught. Without a second thought, she reached into her sleeve, pulled out the pink eyebrow razor, and sliced a shallow but sharp cut across her own thigh. A stinging fire erupted on her skin.

Three floors up, Hollis let out a sudden, violent roar, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the estate's intercom system. "What the hell is going on down there?!" Hollis's voice boomed from the nearby security radio, thick with unexpected pain. The guard flinched, completely distracted by his boss's sudden outburst. He assumed the shadow was just a trick of the light, dropping the cloth instantly to grab his radio. "Go ahead," the guard ordered the maid, rushing away to answer the call.

The cart rolled down the hallway and into the service elevator. Carole felt her stomach drop as the elevator went down to the ground floor.

The doors opened. The noise of the busy kitchen filled the air. Pots clanging, chefs yelling.

The maid pushed the cart into the dishwashing room and walked away to grab fresh towels.

Carole pushed the cabinet door open. She slid out onto the wet tile floor. She stayed low, hiding behind a stack of cardboard boxes.

The kitchen staff were busy arguing over a delivery. Carole crawled to the back door and pushed it open.

The cold afternoon air hit her face. She was in the back gardens.

She stayed crouched, running from bush to bush, avoiding the cameras she had memorized from her window. The stone wall was fifty yards away.

Suddenly, the sound of a heavy engine roared up the driveway.

Carole peeked through the leaves. The black Maybach was pulling up to the front doors. Hollis was back early.

Panic exploded in her chest. She abandoned the bushes and sprinted across the open grass toward the large oak tree near the wall.

Hollis stepped out of the Maybach. He rubbed the center of his chest. His heart was hammering against his ribs in a frantic, erratic rhythm that did not belong to him-a massive surge of adrenaline and physical exertion bleeding through the link.

He knew instantly.

He ran into the house, ignoring Mr. Finch. He took the stairs three at a time and kicked Carole's door open.

The room was empty. The bathroom was empty.

"Lock down the estate!" Hollis roared, his voice shaking the glass windows.

Outside, Carole grabbed the rough bark of the oak tree. She pulled herself up. The rough wood sliced into the palms of her hands.

Inside the house, Hollis stopped moving. He looked down at his palms. A sharp, stinging pain flared across his skin.

He turned and looked out the window toward the garden wall.

Carole climbed onto a thick branch and jumped toward the top of the stone wall. Her hands grabbed the edge, but her boots slipped. She scrambled over, falling hard on the other side.

Her knee slammed into the gravel. The skin tore open.

Hollis dropped to one knee in the bedroom. He grabbed his leg, his teeth grinding together. He felt the blood running down her leg.

He stood up, his eyes dark. He did not run to the wall. He pulled out his phone.

"Sterling. Get the car. She is on the highway."

Carole limped toward the road. The sun was setting. The highway was mostly empty. She ran along the shoulder, waving her bleeding hands at the few cars passing by.

A rusty pickup truck slowed down and pulled over.

"Need a ride, sweetheart?" the old man driving asked.

"Please," Carole gasped. "Pennington Estate. Long Island."

She climbed in. The truck accelerated.

Carole looked out the back window. Two headlights appeared in the distance, closing in fast. It was the Maybach.

"Can you go faster?" Carole begged. "My abusive ex is following me."

The old man looked in the mirror and slammed his foot on the gas. The rusty truck lurched forward, hitting a massive pothole in the asphalt.

Carole was thrown upward, and her injured knee slammed brutally against the hard metal dashboard. A blinding flash of agony ripped through her leg, causing her to cry out in pain.

At that exact second, the Maybach hit the brakes. It swerved violently and pulled over to the side of the road, screeching to a halt. Carole stared in shock. Why did he stop? She couldn't see Hollis gripping his own thigh in the passenger seat, completely incapacitated by the sudden, paralyzing spike of pain she had just caused him, gasping for air as Sterling fought to control the vehicle.

The truck turned a corner, and the Maybach disappeared.

An hour later, the truck pulled up to the massive iron gates of the Pennington Estate. Carole thanked the driver and stepped out.

She pressed the intercom button. The gates buzzed open.

She walked up the long driveway, her clothes torn and covered in dirt. She opened the front door.

The living room was bright. Her father, Barnaby, her mother, Eleanora, and Adalberto sat on the expensive leather sofas.

They looked at her like she was a piece of trash that had blown in from the street.

"Look what the dog dragged in," Adalberto sneered, holding his casted wrist.

"Go wash yourself," Eleanora said, disgusted. "You are ruining the rug."

Carole bit her cheek. She looked at Barnaby. "I will marry Douglas Cherry. Just leave my adoptive parents alone."

Barnaby smiled coldly. "Good girl."