Cristian picked Cassidy up from the sofa and carried her back down the hallway. He walked into the master bedroom and placed her gently in the center of the bed.

He pulled a thin blanket up over her legs. He turned around and walked toward the adjoining sitting room to pour her a glass of warm water.

Cassidy sniffled. She watched his broad shoulders disappear around the corner. A heavy wave of guilt washed over her. She had doubted him.

Then, panic spiked in her chest. Her phone. She had left it on the kitchen island. Joy might send another message.

Cassidy threw the blanket off. She sprinted out of the bedroom, her bare feet slapping against the floorboards, and ran straight to the kitchen. She grabbed the phone off the marble counter.

The moment her fingers touched the screen, a new voice message popped up from Joy.

Cassidy's heart raced. She was desperate to hear exactly what Joy had to say. Her hand trembled as she reached for the screen. She intentionally tapped the play icon, completely forgetting that her phone was still paired to the kitchen's Bluetooth speaker system from when she was listening to music earlier that evening. Instantly, Joy's voice blasted through the penthouse at maximum volume.

"Cass! Did your husband go or not? That little bitch is still crying at the club. You better not let him rekindle his old flame!"

The words echoed off the high ceilings like a bomb going off.

Cassidy screamed. She fumbled with the phone, desperately trying to hit the volume down button. Her hands shook so violently that the phone slipped from her grasp and crashed onto the hardwood floor.

Cristian walked out of the sitting room, holding a glass of water. He stopped dead in his tracks at the edge of the hallway.

The apartment fell into a suffocating, dead silence. The only sound was the faint rattle of the phone settling on the floor.

Cassidy stood frozen by the island. All the blood rushed out of her face, leaving her chalk-white. She forgot how to breathe. Her mind went completely blank.

Cristian looked down at the phone on the floor. He slowly lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Cassidy, who was shaking like a terrified child.

He did not yell. He did not throw the glass. He walked forward with slow, measured steps. He placed the water glass on the marble counter.

He bent down and picked up the phone. The screen had a spiderweb crack across it. He pressed the lock button, silencing the device.

He handed the phone back to her. His dark, piercing eyes never left her face.

Cassidy reached out with a trembling hand and took it. She dropped her chin to her chest, bracing herself for the explosion of his anger.

Instead, Cristian reached out. He pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing her head up so she had to look him in the eye.

"Is this why you were crying earlier?" he asked. His voice was terrifyingly calm, but it demanded the absolute truth.

Cassidy bit her lower lip so hard she tasted copper. Tears welled up in her eyes again. She gave a tiny, jerky nod.

Cristian let out a long breath. His thumb moved, slowly stroking the soft skin of her cheek. His expression turned deadly serious.

"Listen to me, Cassidy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Hayden and I ended things three years ago. There is nothing left."

Cassidy blinked. Her breath hitched. In three years of marriage, he had never once explained his past to her.

Cristian stepped closer, his chest almost touching hers. "I have zero interest in recycling garbage from the past. And I certainly would not run out in the middle of the night for her." He paused, his thumb gently stroking her jawline. "And when Darren called earlier, I didn't tell you who it was because I didn't want you to worry over nothing. It was nonsense, and it had no place in our bedroom."

The word "garbage" hit Cassidy's ears and sent a shockwave of pure joy straight to her heart. The heavy, suffocating weight in her chest evaporated.

Cristian watched the fear leave her eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a helpless, almost fond smirk.

He pulled her into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "Next time you have a question, ask me. Stop listening to outsiders."

Cassidy buried her face into his solid chest. She wrapped her arms tight around his waist and let out a soft "Okay." The crisis that had nearly destroyed her mind was gone.

Cristian kept his arm wrapped tight around Cassidy's shoulders as he guided her back into the master bedroom.

He pressed his hand against her lower back, forcing her to sit on the edge of the mattress. He turned and walked into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a dry, white towel.

He dropped to one knee on the floor in front of her. He lifted her right foot and began to gently wipe the dirt and dust from her sole with the towel.

Cassidy gasped. She tried to pull her foot back, her toes curling in shock. Heat rushed up her neck and burned her cheeks. "Cristian, I can wash them myself."

He ignored her protest. His grip on her ankle was firm and unyielding. He meticulously cleaned both feet before standing up and tossing the towel toward the laundry hamper.

He sat down next to her. The mattress dipped under his heavy frame, sliding her slightly closer to him.

Cristian turned his head. His dark eyes locked onto hers, intense and entirely focused. "Besides Hayden, do you have any other questions?"

Cassidy's heart skipped a beat. Her stomach fluttered. She knew this was the opening she needed.

She looked down at her hands. Her thumbnail dug into the side of her index finger, a nervous habit she could not break. A violent war raged in her head.

If she stayed a contract wife, she could be replaced tomorrow. If they had a child, the bond would be permanent.

Cassidy sucked in a deep breath of air. She forced her hands to stop fidgeting. She lifted her chin and looked straight into his dark eyes.

She gathered every ounce of courage she possessed. Her voice shook, but the words were clear. "Cristian, I want to have a baby."

The air in the bedroom vanished. The silence was so absolute she could hear the hum of the air conditioning unit.

Cristian froze. The fingers resting on his thigh twitched and curled into a loose fist. A flash of pure shock crossed his face.

He clearly had not expected his quiet, compliant wife to drop a bomb like this.

Cassidy watched his silence. The light in her eyes died. Panic seized her throat. She started to backtrack instantly.

"I mean, it was just a thought," she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush. "If you think it is not the right time, we can forget I said anything."

She tried to stand up, desperate to escape the suffocating tension.

Cristian's large hand shot out. His fingers clamped around her wrist like a vice.

He yanked her backward. Cassidy lost her balance and crashed hard against his solid chest.

Cristian twisted his body, pinning her flat against the soft mattress. He hovered over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the light. His eyes were dark, swirling with a dangerous, predatory heat.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "If we have a child, you are permanently tied to the George family. There is no walking away."

Cassidy stared up at his handsome face. She did not hesitate. She nodded her head. It was exactly what she wanted.

Cristian's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. The shock in his eyes melted away, replaced by a deep, terrifyingly intense satisfaction.

He lowered his head until his lips brushed against her ear. "Alright. As you wish, Mrs. George."

The sound of her title on his lips sent a violent shiver down her spine.

Cristian's mouth crashed down on hers. It was a punishing, bruising kiss, demanding everything she had. He was punishing her for trying to run away a second ago.

Cassidy closed her eyes. She reached up, her hands gripping his wide shoulders, kissing him back with equal desperation.

He tore the buttons of her pajama top open. The fabric gave way, and the cool air hit her skin before his burning hands replaced it.

This was not their usual routine. This was raw, desperate, and completely consuming.

Hours later, the sky outside began to lighten. Cassidy lay exhausted, her head resting on Cristian's arm. She fell asleep with a small, secure smile on her lips.

Cristian lay awake in the dark. He stared at her sleeping face. His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. His eyes were dark and unreadable, swirling with a heavy, unspoken possessiveness that he himself had not fully realized yet.

The morning sun sliced through the gap in the heavy blackout curtains, landing directly on Cassidy's face. She blinked her eyes open.

She groaned, her lower back screaming in protest as she tried to sit up. The space beside her was empty and cool to the touch. On the nightstand, a glass of water sat next to a piece of heavy cardstock.

Cassidy picked up the note. The handwriting was sharp and aggressive. "I have an early M&A meeting. Left for the office. Eat breakfast."

Cassidy stared at the note. A genuine smile broke across her face. The memories of last night's intensity washed away the lingering anxiety from the past few days.

She forced herself out of bed, showered, and put on a tailored beige pantsuit. She ordered a car and headed to the art gallery she managed in Chelsea.

Sitting in the back of the black SUV, Cassidy pulled out her phone. She opened Instagram to check the gallery's official page.

A red notification dot hovered over her personal account's message icon. It was a new friend request.

Cassidy tapped it. The profile picture showed a woman in designer sunglasses posing in front of the Eiffel Tower. The name was impossible to miss: Hayden Blevins.

The smile vanished from Cassidy's face. Her fingers hovered over the screen. Her heart kicked into a faster rhythm.

The attack was coming faster than she thought. Cassidy took a deep breath, filling her lungs, and tapped "Accept."

Cristian had given her the ultimate reassurance last night. She refused to show fear to the enemy.

She arrived at the gallery and threw herself into preparing the upcoming autumn modern art exhibition.

Just before noon, Eleanor, the gallery manager, walked into Cassidy's office. She looked nervous.

"Cassidy," Eleanor whispered, leaning over the desk. "There is a woman out there in a full Chanel couture suit. She is demanding to speak to the curator."

Cassidy's stomach tightened. She put down the exhibition catalog and stood up. She followed Eleanor out into the main viewing area.

Standing in the center of the room was a tall woman in blood-red Louboutin heels. She was facing a large abstract painting.

Hearing their footsteps, the woman turned around. She pulled off her sunglasses, revealing a stunning, aggressively beautiful face.

It was Hayden Blevins.

Cassidy stopped walking for a fraction of a second. She forced her facial muscles to relax into a perfect, professional smile and walked forward.

Hayden's eyes scanned Cassidy from head to toe. A brief flash of disdain crossed her features before she plastered on a bright, fake smile.

Hayden held out her hand. "Hi, Cassidy. I am Hayden. Cristian's old friend."

She emphasized the words "old friend," letting them hang in the air like a threat.

Cassidy reached out and shook her hand. Her grip was firm. "Hello, Miss Blevins. Welcome to my gallery."

She deliberately used "Miss Blevins." It was polite, cold, and established a massive boundary.

Hayden pulled her hand back. She looked around the room with exaggerated interest. "It is a cute little place. Very... quaint. A bit small, though."

The insult was clear. She was calling Cassidy's life's work insignificant compared to the George empire.

Cassidy did not flinch. "The value of art is not in its size, Miss Blevins. It is in its ability to move people. Much like relationships."

Hayden's smile cracked. Her eyes narrowed. She clearly did not expect the quiet trophy wife to fire back.

Hayden quickly recovered, tossing her perfect blonde waves over her shoulder. "We should sit down. There is a coffee shop next door. Let's chat."

Eleanor looked at Cassidy, her eyes wide with concern. Cassidy gave her a tiny nod to tell her it was fine.

"Sure," Cassidy said. She wanted to see exactly what kind of poison this woman was trying to serve.