Audra was dragged up the stairs by Marla, her feet stumbling over the thick carpet. She was shoved into her bedroom. From the outside, the heavy thud of a metal chain being wrapped around the handles and locked into place echoed through the wood.

The room was pitch black. Audra collapsed onto the cold hardwood floor, pulling her knees to her chest.

Her mind was a torture chamber. Eben's voice played on a continuous, agonizing loop in her head. Anderson Hopper's bastard.

The words chewed at her heart like venomous snakes. The physical pain in her chest was so sharp she had to press her fist against her sternum just to breathe.

The next evening, the heavy chain rattled. The door creaked open.

Anderson walked in. He carried a silver tray holding a steaming plate of French cuisine. He set the tray down on the mahogany table and looked down at Audra, who was still curled weakly on the floor. He tried to project an aura of benevolent mercy.

"Eat something. You haven't had a bite in twenty-four hours," he said, his tone stiff but coaxing.

Audra slowly lifted her head. Her tangled hair hid half her face, but her eyes were sharp, cutting through the dim light like razor blades.

"You murdered my child with your own hands, and now you want to play the caring host?" she rasped. Her voice was destroyed, but the anger beneath it was volcanic.

Anderson's face stiffened. The hand holding a glass of water twitched, spilling a few drops. His eyes darted away from hers. "That was a medical complication. The doctors did everything they could..."

"A complication?" Audra found a sudden, terrifying strength. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed the edge of the silver tray, and violently flipped it over.

The expensive bone china shattered against the floor with a deafening crash. Hot soup splattered across Anderson's immaculate leather shoes.

"I heard it!" Audra screamed, stepping right into his personal space, forcing him to back up. "I heard my baby cry! A weak little cry! It was only after you walked into that operating room that it went completely dead silent!"

Anderson's mask of calm completely shattered. He sucked in a sharp breath. The fake guilt in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, ruthless darkness.

"I merely ensured that the operating room followed standard protocols," he sneered, his voice a chilling, ambiguous whisper that twisted the knife deeper. "Perhaps that bastard simply wasn't lucky enough to survive. After all, it carried the tainted blood of a criminal. It never deserved to breathe the same air as me!"

The confession hit Audra like a physical bullet. All the strength vanished from her legs. She collapsed backward, her knees hitting the edge of the mattress as she slid to the floor.

She covered her face with her bleeding hands. A raw, gut-wrenching wail tore from her throat. It was the sound of a soul being ripped in half. That baby was her and Kendall's only connection, and it had been systematically murdered.

Anderson watched her sob over another man's child. A twisted, ugly jealousy twisted his gut.

He crouched down. He grabbed her wrists and forcefully ripped her hands away from her face, making her look at him.

"Once you have nothing left of him, you will finally belong to me," he whispered, his eyes wide with manic obsession.

Audra stopped crying instantly. The tears dried on her cheeks. A new, freezing cold hatred ignited in the depths of her eyes.

She gathered the saliva in her mouth and spat directly into Anderson's face.

"You make me sick," she said, emphasizing every single syllable.

Anderson's face turned purple with fury. He raised his hand high, ready to strike her across the face. But his hand froze in mid-air. Even in his rage, his twisted love for her stopped him from causing her physical harm.

He slowly lowered his hand. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the spit from his cheek. He let out a dark, humorless chuckle.

He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a glossy photograph. He tossed it onto her lap.

It was a picture of Eleanor, Kendall's mother and the woman who had raised Audra. She was lying in a sterile nursing home bed, looking incredibly frail, tubes running into her arms.

"You want to leave me? Fine," Anderson smiled, a chilling, demonic expression. "But I guarantee you, the second you step foot outside this estate, Eleanor will suffer a fatal 'medication error' by tomorrow morning."

A violent shudder ran through Audra's body. She snatched the photo off her lap, her fingers gripping the edges so tightly her knuckles turned stark white.

"You animal! She is my mother too!" she screamed, grabbing a pillow from the bed and hurling it at his head.

Anderson easily dodged it. He stood up, calmly adjusting the lapels of his suit, reclaiming his position of absolute power.

"So, play your role as Mrs. Hopper. I will have a car ready for you tomorrow so you can go visit her."

He walked out. The door slammed. The chains locked. Audra pressed the photograph tightly against her chest. The despair in her eyes was gone, replaced by a burning, desperate fire. She had to break the NDA. She had to get Eleanor out.

The next morning, a black, bulletproof sedan pulled up to the entrance of a highly discreet, luxury nursing home in Long Island.

Two massive bodyguards stepped out first. They flanked Audra, their eyes scanning the perimeter, watching her every move with hawkish intensity.

Audra walked through the sliding glass doors. The sharp, chemical smell of bleach and antiseptic hit her nose, making her stomach clench. She walked briskly down the long corridor and pushed open the heavy door to the VIP suite at the end of the hall.

Inside, Nurse Brenda Clegg was sitting in a chair beside the bed. She was scrolling through her phone with one hand. With the other, she was carelessly scraping a plastic spoon full of scalding hot puree against Eleanor's tightly shut lips, deliberately pinching the frail woman's inner arm where the bruises wouldn't be seen. Eleanor twisted her head weakly on the pillow, trying to avoid the painful heat. 'Eat it, you difficult old burden,' Brenda whispered venomously, her voice a low, psychological torment. The moment Brenda heard the door open, her vicious scowl vanished, instantly replaced by a sickeningly sweet, professional smile as she turned around.

The sight ignited a blinding rage inside Audra. She lunged across the room and shoved Brenda hard in the shoulder.

The ceramic bowl flew out of Brenda's hand. It shattered against the marble floor, sending hot, sticky puree splashing across the walls.

"Are you crazy? What is wrong with you!" Brenda shrieked, stumbling back and glaring at Audra with pure malice.

Audra didn't hesitate. She raised her hand, channeled every ounce of her anger and grief into her palm, and slapped Brenda across the face as hard as she physically could.

Smack.

The sharp sound echoed in the room. Five bright red finger marks instantly bloomed across Brenda's cheek.

"Who gave you the right to touch her like that!" Audra screamed, her eyes bloodshot, looking like a lioness protecting her cub.

Brenda clutched her stinging cheek. She looked toward the door, expecting the two men in black suits to intervene. But the bodyguards stood perfectly still, their faces blank. Anderson's orders were to keep Audra contained and Eleanor alive; the nurse's well-being meant nothing to them. Realizing she had no backup, Brenda scrambled out of the room in terror.

Audra turned back to the bed. Her hands were shaking. She pulled a soft handkerchief from her purse and gently, carefully wiped the spilled food from Eleanor's chin.

"Mom, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I'm late," she whispered, her tears falling freely, landing with soft taps on Eleanor's cold, wrinkled hand.

Feeling the warmth of the tears, Eleanor's eyelids fluttered. Slowly, her cloudy eyes opened.

Her gaze wandered aimlessly for a second before focusing on Audra's face. Suddenly, Eleanor's chest began to heave. Her breathing turned rapid and shallow.

Her bony fingers shot out, gripping the sleeve of Audra's trench coat with surprising, desperate strength. Her nails dug into Audra's wrist.

"The TV... I saw... on the TV..." Eleanor mumbled, her words slurred, her lungs working overtime to push the air out.

Audra's heart skipped a beat. She followed Eleanor's frantic gaze to the flat-screen television mounted on the wall.

It was playing a rerun of the morning entertainment news. The screen showed Eben walking down the red carpet at The Plaza hotel.

Eleanor raised a trembling finger, pointing directly at Eben's face on the screen. Tears poured from her aged eyes. "Kendall... my Kendall didn't die..."

She tried to force herself to sit up. The sudden exertion caused the heart monitor beside the bed to emit a rapid, high-pitched warning beep.

"Mom, please, you have to calm down! Your heart can't take this!" Audra panicked, gently pressing her hands against Eleanor's shoulders to keep her flat on the bed.

"Bring him to me! Audra, please, I am begging you, let me see my son!" Eleanor cried out hysterically, her voice breaking with absolute desperation.

Looking into the pleading, shattered eyes of the woman who had raised her, Audra felt a physical pain slice through her chest.

She knew exactly how much Eben hated her. She knew that going to him meant walking directly into a meat grinder of humiliation and revenge.

But looking at Eleanor's failing body, she knew she had no choice. This was the woman's dying wish.

Audra wrapped her hands tightly around Eleanor's freezing fingers. She nodded her head firmly. "I promise you, Mom. I will make him come see you."

She stood up. She aggressively wiped the tears from her face, her eyes hardening with resolve. She walked out of the hospital room. The two bodyguards instantly fell into step behind her, their shadows looming over her like a death sentence.

Audra walked out of the nursing home, her mind racing. She stopped near the lobby restrooms. "I need to use the bathroom," she told the guards, her voice flat.

The guards nodded, standing on either side of the restroom door. Audra slipped inside. She locked the stall and quickly pulled out her phone, dialing the nursing station's internal line. Disguising her voice, she reported a violent code blue emergency in the opposite wing. The moment she heard the heavy boots of her guards sprinting down the hall to secure the perimeter, she slipped out of the bathroom, grabbed a discarded doctor's coat from a laundry cart, and blended perfectly into a crowd of panicked medical staff rushing toward the fake emergency, successfully losing her shadows for a few precious hours.

She emptied her pockets. She had exactly thirty-four dollars in cash. She hailed a yellow cab and gave the driver the address for Eben's corporate headquarters in Midtown Manhattan.

The cab dropped her off a block away. The towering glass skyscraper was surrounded by yellow police tape. A massive crowd of aggressive paparazzi and journalists swarmed the main entrance, waiting to get a shot of the billionaire.

Audra pulled her collar up and hid in the dark shadows next to a large industrial dumpster near the underground parking garage exit. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her eyes glued to the concrete ramp.

At exactly five o'clock, the heavy metal grate rolled up. A fleet of three black Maybachs slowly drove up the ramp.

Audra instantly recognized the middle car. It bore Eben's exclusive, custom license plate. She took a deep breath, her lungs burning with cold air, and sprinted out from behind the dumpster.

Screech!

The agonizing sound of burning rubber filled the street. The heavy Maybach slammed to a halt, the front bumper stopping less than four inches from Audra's kneecaps.

Arthur, the driver, rolled down his window and stuck his head out, his face red with anger. "Are you out of your mind! If you want to kill yourself, do it somewhere else!"

Audra ignored him. She threw her body against the rear passenger door, her hands slapping frantically against the thick, bulletproof glass.

"Eben! Please, just look at me! I beg you!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. The journalists at the front entrance heard the commotion and began running toward the garage, their cameras raised.

The tinted window slowly rolled down halfway.

Eben's face appeared in the gap. His profile was carved from ice. He didn't even turn his head to look at her.

He stared straight ahead and issued a cold command to Arthur. "Run her over."

The Maybach's engine roared to life. The car jerked forward. The sudden movement caught Audra off guard. She was thrown backward, her body hitting the rough asphalt. The skin on her palms tore open, bleeding instantly.

She gritted her teeth against the sharp pain. She scrambled to her knees, ignoring her bleeding hands, and yelled at the departing taillights. "It's your mother! Eleanor wants to see you!"

The moment the name "Eleanor" hung in the air, the bright red brake lights of the Maybach flared. The car stopped dead in the middle of the street.

The rear door swung open. Eben stepped out. His long legs carried him quickly toward her. Flashbulbs erupted around them like a strobe light as the paparazzi finally caught up.

Eben stopped right in front of her. He looked down at her bleeding hands and dirty coat with absolute, unmasked disgust.

"You have the nerve to mention my mother?" he leaned down, his voice a low, lethal hiss meant only for her ears. "When you sold me out three years ago, did you ever stop to think if she would survive the grief?"

Audra reached out, her bloody fingers desperately grabbing the edge of his tailored suit jacket. "I know you hate me. But she misses you so much. She saw the news, and her heart is failing. Please."

Eben let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He violently slapped her hands away, brushing his jacket as if she had infected him with a disease. "Anderson Hopper's dog doesn't get to lecture me about family."

He turned around, ready to walk away.

Audra watched his broad back retreating. She knew this was it. If he got back in that car, Eleanor would die of a broken heart.

She closed her eyes. She let go of the last shred of pride she possessed.

Thud.

A heavy, sickening sound echoed over the clicking of the cameras. Audra dropped to her knees, hitting the freezing, unforgiving asphalt with brutal force.

The flashbulbs went into a frenzy. Gasps of shock rippled through the crowd of journalists and onlookers.

Eben's footsteps stopped abruptly. He slowly turned his head, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sight of the woman kneeling at his feet.

This was Audra Hill. The woman who used to be so proud she wouldn't bow her head to anyone. Now, she was kneeling in the dirt like a beggar.

"I am begging you. Go see her," Audra said, her voice shaking uncontrollably. She bent forward, pressing her forehead against the cold, dirty street. "If you go, I will do whatever you want. Anything."

Eben's chest rose and fell rapidly. A chaotic storm of emotions raged in his amber eyes. There was vindictive satisfaction, blinding rage, and a tiny, deeply buried stab of physical pain in his chest that he refused to acknowledge.

He clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning stark white. He stared down at her trembling shoulders.

"Drive." His voice held not a single shred of warmth, the command sounding like two blocks of ice grinding together, dripping with absolute contempt.

He turned on his heel, got back into the Maybach, and slammed the door. The motorcade sped away, leaving Audra kneeling alone on the street, blinded by the flashes of a hundred cameras and drowning in the mocking whispers of the crowd.