Harper pushed through the heavy glass doors of the Mount Sinai emergency building. The sharp, chemical smell of hospital bleach hit her nose. Her stomach rolled, threatening to empty the champagne she had just swallowed.

She walked to the elevators, rode to the top floor, and stepped into the quiet hallway. The door to the VIP suite was cracked open. Harper stopped and looked through the gap.

Chase was on his knees beside the hospital bed. His hands were wrapped tightly around Lila's pale fingers.

Lila leaned back against the pillows. Tears streamed down her face. "I lost our baby, Chase," she whispered. Her voice was weak, trembling, and entirely theatrical.

The word baby hit Harper's brain like a physical strike. Her ears rang. Her fingers curled into tight fists, her nails biting so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke.

Chase pressed his lips to Lila's knuckles. His face was twisted in agony. "It is not your fault. I should have protected you."

Harper kicked the door. The heavy wood slammed against the wall with a loud bang.

Chase jumped up as if he had been burned. He spun around. He stared at Harper's soaked hair, her ruined dress, and the dirt on her hem. A brief flash of shock crossed his eyes.

Lila gasped. She pulled the white hospital blanket up to her chin, shrinking back against the headboard. She let out a terrified whimper.

Chase's jaw tightened. He took three long strides toward Harper. He kept his voice low, but the anger was thick. "Why did you make yourself look like a disaster? Are you trying to stimulate her condition on purpose?"

Harper looked at the man standing in front of her. He looked like a complete stranger. She let out a short, cold laugh. "Do you remember whose wedding day it is?"

The door to the adjoining suite opened. Harrison Young stepped out. He adjusted his expensive watch and looked at Harper with absolute authority. "Keep your voice down, Harper. You are the future matriarch of this family. Show some tolerance."

Harper did not blink. She stared directly into Harrison's eyes. "Your entire family is paying the price for a mistress's lie."

On the bed, Lila suddenly began to gasp for air. Her chest heaved. The heart monitor beside the bed started beeping rapidly.

Chase turned red. He grabbed Harper by the shoulders and shoved her violently backward out of the room. Harper's back slammed into the metal doorframe. A sharp, blinding pain shot through her shoulder blade.

"If anything happens to Lila, I will never forgive you," Chase yelled. He turned his back to her and screamed for a doctor.

Harper stood in the hallway. She watched the nurses rush past her into the room. A sudden sense of absurdity washed over her. She stopped fighting. She turned around and walked down the long corridor toward the elevators.

As she walked, she grabbed the massive diamond ring on her left hand. She yanked it over her knuckle, scraping the skin. She tossed it directly into a red biohazard bin sitting against the wall.

She stepped into the elevator. The mirrored walls reflected her bruised forehead, her red cheek, and her dripping hair. She took a deep breath. She pulled out her phone and dialed her private attorney.

"Draft an uncontested divorce agreement immediately," Harper said. Her voice was completely flat.

Harper walked out of the hospital lobby. The rain had stopped. The cold Manhattan wind hit her wet clothes, drying the moisture and making her brain painfully clear.

She walked to the street, hailed another cab, and rode back to the Upper East Side. She used her fingerprint to unlock the door of the Young family penthouse. The massive floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the glittering lights of Central Park.

She walked straight into the master bedroom. She went to the back of the massive walk-in closet and pulled out a plain black suitcase. She ignored the rows of designer bags and shoes Chase had bought her.

She threw her pre-marriage business suits, her laptop, and three finance textbooks into the suitcase.

She walked over to the vanity mirror. She picked up a pair of heavy metal scissors. She grabbed the front of the expensive wedding dress and cut straight down the middle, tearing the fabric apart.

Harper stepped out of the ruined dress. She put on a sharp black suit. She pulled her wet hair back into a tight, high ponytail. Her eyes in the mirror looked sharp and dangerous.

The front door of the penthouse beeped. Chase walked in. He looked exhausted. His tie was pulled loose around his neck.

He stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. He looked at the shredded wedding dress on the floor and the black suitcase on the bed. His eyebrows pulled together.

He walked toward her, holding his hands out. "Lila is asleep. I can stay here with you tonight." His voice sounded like he was offering her a charity handout.

Harper stepped to the side, avoiding his hands as if he carried a disease. She looked at him with pure disgust.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out her lawyer's business card, and slapped it hard against Chase's chest.

"Divorce," Harper said.

Chase looked down at the business card resting against his shirt. He let out a loud, mocking laugh. He reached up and yanked his tie even looser.

"Ryan Investments is nothing without the funding of the Young family," Chase said, looking down his nose at her. "You step out that door, and I will pull every cent of our capital. You will have zero."

Harper did not argue. She reached out and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. The metal clicked loudly in the quiet bedroom.

Chase saw she was not stopping. He stepped sideways, blocking the bedroom door. His eyes turned dark. "If you walk out right now, do not ever think about coming back."

Harper lifted her chin. Her eyes were completely dead. "Move. Or I will call the police and press charges for false imprisonment."

The coldness in her voice made Chase freeze. His body reacted before his brain did. He stepped back. He watched Harper walk past him without a single hesitation.

The heavy front door of the penthouse slammed shut. The loud noise made Chase's heart physically jump in his chest. A sudden, cold panic gripped his stomach.

Harper walked from the penthouse lobby to the underground parking garage. She opened the trunk of the Porsche she had bought with her own money before the engagement. She threw the suitcase inside.

She got into the driver's seat and merged into the heavy morning traffic. She put her Bluetooth earpiece in. She spoke rapidly, giving her assistant Chloe a list of demands.

Harper drove downtown and walked into the lobby of Ryan Investments on Wall Street. Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor.

The receptionist and the analysts walking by stopped and stared. They looked at her black suit and the bruise on her forehead. She was supposed to be on her honeymoon.

Harper ignored them. She walked straight to her glass-walled office, pushed the door open, and slammed her bag onto the desk.

Chloe ran into the office holding a massive stack of folders. Her hands were shaking so badly she almost knocked over Harper's coffee mug.

"Harper, the CGI Studio acquisition," Chloe stuttered, her face pale. "Everything went wrong yesterday while you were gone."

Harper frowned. She snatched the financial reports from Chloe's hands. Her eyes scanned the numbers rapidly. She saw the massive gap in the funding chain.

Marcus Bell, the lead project manager, walked into the office. He looked sick. "The target studio was bought out yesterday. We lost it."

Harper slammed her hands flat on the desk and stood up. "Who has the capital to eat a deal that size overnight?"

Marcus wiped the sweat off his forehead. He spoke the name that made everyone on Wall Street nervous. "Antoni Donovan."

Harper dropped back into her leather chair. The glare from her computer monitor highlighted the tight clench of her jaw. Antoni Donovan. Her biggest rival.

She pulled up the latest acquisition records for Donovan Group. The screen filled with red profit margins. The numbers burned her eyes.

"Antoni bought the whole thing," Chloe whispered. "He is taking all the core engineers."

Harper took a deep breath. Her stomach cramped with the stress, but she forced her brain to focus. She scrolled through the contract clauses.

She stopped. She found a gray area in the intellectual property management section. A spark of adrenaline hit her blood.

"Draft a joint-management proposal right now," Harper ordered Chloe. "We are going to use this as leverage."

Marcus shook his head. "That is suicide. Antoni is ruthless. He will never give up a single share."

Harper let out a cold laugh. "There are no permanent enemies on Wall Street. Only permanent interests. I need to see him."

She picked up her desk phone. She dialed the direct line to the Donovan Group executive office. The phone rang five times.

A man answered. His voice was smooth and completely professional. "Alex Reed, executive assistant to Mr. Donovan."

"This is Harper Ryan. I need ten minutes with Antoni today," Harper said, pushing authority into her voice.

Alex Reed let out a soft chuckle. "Mr. Donovan has no interest in speaking with the losing side, Ms. Ryan."

The line went dead.

Harper sat in her office, staring at the phone in her hand.

Chase looked down at the business card resting against his shirt. He let out a loud, mocking laugh. He reached up and yanked his tie even looser.

"Ryan Investments is nothing without the funding of the Young family," Chase said, looking down his nose at her. "You step out that door, and I will pull every cent of our capital. You will have zero."

Harper did not argue. She reached out and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. The metal clicked loudly in the quiet bedroom.

Chase saw she was not stopping. He stepped sideways, blocking the bedroom door. His eyes turned dark. "If you walk out right now, do not ever think about coming back."

Harper lifted her chin. Her eyes were completely dead. "Move. Or I will call the police and press charges for false imprisonment."

The coldness in her voice made Chase freeze. His body reacted before his brain did. He stepped back. He watched Harper walk past him without a single hesitation.

The heavy front door of the penthouse slammed shut. The loud noise made Chase's heart physically jump in his chest. A sudden, cold panic gripped his stomach.

Harper walked from the penthouse lobby to the underground parking garage. She opened the trunk of the Porsche she had bought with her own money before the engagement and threw the suitcase inside.

She got into the driver's seat, but she did not start the engine immediately. She sat in the darkness of the parking garage, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. The adrenaline that had carried her through the confrontation drained out of her body. Her shoulders began to shake. She pressed her forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel and closed her eyes.

She did not cry. She had no tears left. But the weight of the last twelve hours pressed down on her chest like a concrete slab. She sat there, breathing slowly, as the minutes ticked past. The digital clock on the dashboard glowed 2:47 AM. She watched the numbers change. 2:48. 2:49. The exhaustion was so profound that her mind simply shut down. She fell into a shallow, dreamless sleep, still sitting upright in the driver's seat.

When Harper opened her eyes again, pale gray morning light was filtering through the grimy windows of the parking garage. The dashboard clock read 7:15 AM. Her neck ached from the awkward sleeping position. Her stomach was a tight, empty knot of hunger and nausea. But her mind was painfully clear. She had left the Young family. She was free. And she had a company to save.

She started the engine, put her Bluetooth earpiece in, and merged into the heavy morning traffic. She spoke rapidly, giving her assistant Chloe a list of demands.

Harper drove downtown and walked into the lobby of Ryan Investments on Wall Street. Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor.

The receptionist and the analysts walking by stopped and stared. They looked at her black suit and the bruise on her forehead. She was supposed to be on her honeymoon.

Harper ignored them. She walked straight to her glass-walled office, pushed the door open, and slammed her bag onto the desk.

Chloe ran into the office holding a massive stack of folders. Her hands were shaking so badly she almost knocked over Harper's coffee mug.

"Harper, the CGI Studio acquisition," Chloe stuttered, her face pale. "Everything went wrong yesterday while you were gone."

Harper frowned. She snatched the financial reports from Chloe's hands. Her eyes scanned the numbers rapidly. She saw the massive gap in the funding chain.

Marcus Bell, the lead project manager, walked into the office. He looked sick. "The target studio was bought out yesterday. We lost it."

Harper slammed her hands flat on the desk and stood up. "Who has the capital to eat a deal that size overnight?"

Marcus wiped the sweat off his forehead. He spoke the name that made everyone on Wall Street nervous. "Antoni Donovan."

Harper dropped back into her leather chair. The glare from her computer monitor highlighted the tight clench of her jaw. Antoni Donovan. Her biggest rival.

She pulled up the latest acquisition records for Donovan Group. The screen filled with red profit margins. The numbers burned her eyes.

"Antoni bought the whole thing," Chloe whispered. "He is taking all the core engineers."

Harper took a deep breath. Her stomach cramped with the stress, but she forced her brain to focus. She scrolled through the contract clauses.

She stopped. She found a gray area in the intellectual property management section. A spark of adrenaline hit her blood.

"Draft a joint-management proposal right now," Harper ordered Chloe. "We are going to use this as leverage."

Marcus shook his head. "That is suicide. Antoni is ruthless. He will never give up a single share."

Harper let out a cold laugh. "There are no permanent enemies on Wall Street. Only permanent interests. I need to see him."

She picked up her desk phone. She dialed the direct line to the Donovan Group executive office. The phone rang five times.

A man answered. His voice was smooth and completely professional. "Alex Reed, executive assistant to Mr. Donovan."

"This is Harper Ryan. I need ten minutes with Antoni today," Harper said, pushing authority into her voice.

Alex Reed let out a soft chuckle. "Mr. Donovan has no interest in speaking with the losing side, Ms. Ryan."

The line went dead.

Harper sat in her office, staring at the phone in her hand.