The yellow taxi pulled up to the curb outside the luxury high-rise in Tribeca. Everly reached into her clutch, pulled out the last few twenty-dollar bills she had, and threw them onto the passenger seat. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the biting wind.

She walked straight through the revolving glass doors of the lobby. The night doorman started to stand up, his mouth opening to stop the bleeding, disheveled woman, but Everly didn't even look at him. She walked with such terrifying purpose that he froze.

She stepped into the private VIP elevator. She reached out and punched in the security code Carson had drunkenly muttered months ago.

The keypad beeped green. The doors slid shut silently.

Everly watched the digital numbers climb higher and higher. She reached down to the silk ribbon tied around her waist. She untied it, wrapped it tightly around her bleeding left hand, and pulled the knot hard with her teeth. Her eyes were completely empty.

The elevator chimed. The doors opened directly into the massive, open-concept penthouse living room.

Everly stepped off the marble floor of the elevator. The room was littered with expensive designer shopping bags and high-end baby toys.

Giana was lounging on a massive white leather sofa. She wore a sheer silk robe, holding a crystal flute of non-alcoholic champagne, laughing into her cell phone.

At the sound of footsteps, Giana turned her head. When she saw Everly standing there, covered in dried blood and dirt, she gasped, the crystal glass slipping from her fingers and shattering on the floor.

Everly didn't say a word. She moved across the room like a ghost out for blood, her steps fast and silent.

Giana dropped her phone. She scrambled to stand up, trying to mask her panic with a sneer. "Look at you. You look like a homeless beggar-"

Everly lunged. She shot her hand out, grabbed the front of Giana's silk robe, and slammed the woman backward onto the sofa cushions.

Giana shrieked. She threw her hands up, her long acrylic nails clawing wildly at Everly's face.

Everly didn't flinch. She used her other hand to grab both of Giana's wrists, pinning them down with a strength born of pure adrenaline.

"You killed him," Everly snarled, her teeth bared. "You are going to pay for his life."

Before Everly could do anything else, the heavy oak door of the master bedroom flew open. Carson rushed out, wearing only his dress shirt, his hair a mess.

He saw Everly pinning Giana down.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Carson roared. He crossed the room in three massive strides.

He grabbed Everly by the back of her shoulders and yanked her backward with brutal force.

Everly was caught off guard. The violent pull lifted her off her feet. She stumbled backward, her heels catching on the rug.

Her back slammed directly into the sharp edge of the solid marble coffee table.

A sickening crack echoed in her ears. Blinding, white-hot pain shot up her spine. Everly gasped, the air completely knocked out of her lungs, and she crumpled onto the wool rug.

Carson didn't even look at her. He immediately pulled Giana into his arms, his hands frantically checking her stomach. "Are you hurt? Did she hit the baby?"

Giana burst into fake, hysterical tears. She buried her face in Carson's chest. "She tried to kill our son, Carson! She's crazy!"

Carson turned his head. He looked down at Everly writhing on the floor. His eyes held nothing but absolute disgust.

"You are a vicious, insane bitch," Carson spat.

Everly gritted her teeth. She pushed her hands against the floor, forcing herself to stand despite the agonizing pain radiating from her spine. She pointed a shaking finger at Giana.

"She murdered my grandfather!" Everly screamed, her voice cracking. "She shoved that ultrasound in his face on purpose!"

Carson rolled his eyes. He let go of Giana and walked over to the sleek oak desk in the corner. He pulled open a drawer and took out a leather-bound checkbook.

He grabbed a pen and scribbled a series of numbers across the paper. He ripped the check out, walked back over to Everly, and threw it directly at her face.

The paper fluttered through the air and landed at Everly's feet.

"That is five million dollars," Carson said, his voice dripping with condescension. "It's your hush money. You will sign the NDA tomorrow, and you will get out of New York."

Everly looked down. The blue Chase Bank logo stared back at her.

A low, dark laugh bubbled up from her throat. The sound echoed off the high ceilings, sounding completely unhinged.

She bent down slowly, wincing as her back screamed in protest, and picked up the check.

Carson crossed his arms, a smug look crossing his face. He thought she had finally broken. He thought money had won.

Everly looked him dead in the eye. She gripped the edges of the paper and ripped it in half. Then she put the pieces together and ripped them again. And again.

She raised her hands and threw the shredded pieces of paper violently into Carson's face. The tiny white squares rained down over his expensive shirt and the floor.

"I don't want your filthy money," Everly said, pronouncing every word with lethal precision. "I am going to make you both bleed."

She turned her back on him and walked straight toward the elevator.

Everly forced her spine to stay perfectly straight until the elevator doors closed. The moment she stepped out of the lobby and pushed through the revolving glass doors, her knees buckled.

She hit the exterior brick wall of the building, leaning her weight against it as she gasped for air. The pain in her lower back throbbed with every beat of her heart.

Above her, the sky broke open. A freezing, violent Manhattan rainstorm poured down without warning.

The icy water instantly soaked through the thin fabric of her ruined gown, plastering it to her skin. Everly didn't try to find shelter. Her mind had completely detached from her body.

She walked blindly into the torrential rain. The image of Arthur's dead, gray face played on a loop behind her eyelids, overlapping with the cold, dead look in Carson's eyes.

The rain grew heavier, blurring the streetlights into smeared streaks of yellow and red. Everly reached an intersection. There was no crosswalk signal. She didn't look left or right. She just stepped off the curb onto the slick asphalt.

A blinding set of LED headlights pierced the wall of rain, hitting her directly in the face.

Everly squeezed her eyes shut against the glare.

The deafening screech of rubber tearing against wet asphalt filled the air. A massive, black Maybach slid sideways across the slick road.

The heavy vehicle couldn't stop in time. The right side of the front bumper slammed hard into Everly's left hip.

The sheer force of the impact lifted her off the ground. She flew backward through the air and hit the flooded street with a violent splash.

Her knees and elbows scraped violently against the rough pavement, tearing the skin away. Blood immediately mixed with the puddles of dirty rainwater. Everly lay flat on her stomach, her body completely numb. She didn't even have the breath to moan.

The Maybach rocked to a halt. The rear passenger door swung open.

A massive black umbrella snapped open. A pair of long legs clad in custom-tailored trousers stepped out of the car.

Guilford Lancaster stepped into the puddle, his leather shoes splashing the water. He radiated an aura of absolute, freezing authority.

He stood over Everly's prone body. His dark eyes narrowed, flashing with a mixture of extreme caution and deep disgust.

His bodyguard immediately stepped forward, shining a high-powered tactical flashlight directly into Everly's face, checking her hands for weapons.

Everly groaned. She forced her neck up. The freezing rain ran down her pale cheeks. The flashlight blinded her, forcing her to squint against the harsh beam.

Guilford looked down at her. He saw the torn, blood-stained evening gown, the messy hair, the pathetic sprawl on the street. He let out a low, harsh scoff.

"Insurance scammers in New York are getting desperate," Guilford said, his voice a deep, mocking baritone. "Throwing yourself in front of a car in a gown? You really put money into the production."

The word "scammer" hit Everly's ears. A jolt of pure, unadulterated fury shocked her nervous system back to life.

She clamped her jaw shut. She planted her bleeding hands on the rough asphalt, trying to push her upper body off the ground to scream at him.

But the fresh trauma to her hip, combined with the agonizing pain in her spine, caused her arms to give out. She collapsed back into the muddy water with a splash.

Before Guilford could speak again, the satellite phone in his breast pocket vibrated. The specific ringtone made his jaw tighten.

He pulled the phone out and answered it immediately. "Speak."

He listened for two seconds, his back turning slightly away from Everly. "The merger is compromised? Lock down the board. I'll be there in ten minutes."

He hung up. He glanced at his platinum watch. He had zero patience left for this street theater.

He looked at his assistant standing by the open car door.

"Pay her off," Guilford ordered coldly. "Make sure she doesn't call the cops and cause a delay."

Without another glance at the woman bleeding on the street, Guilford turned around and slid back into the luxurious, dry interior of the Maybach.

The heavy door slammed shut, instantly cutting off the sound of the rain.

The assistant walked over to Everly. He pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from his briefcase. He dropped the cash directly onto the wet pavement in front of her face. Then, he tossed a sleek, solid titanium business card that landed with a sharp clink against the asphalt, completely unaffected by the downpour.

"Take the cash and keep your mouth shut," the assistant said flatly. He turned and got into the passenger seat.

The Maybach's engine roared to life. The massive tires spun, splashing a wave of dirty street water over Everly's head before the car sped away into the night.

Everly lay alone in the pouring rain. She stared at the soggy hundred-dollar bills floating in the puddle.

Hot tears finally broke free, mixing with the cold rain on her face. She bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper.

She didn't touch the money. Instead, her bleeding fingers reached out and snatched the heavy titanium business card. She crushed the cold metal into her palm, using the pain to fuel her muscles, and slowly, shakily, pushed herself up from the street.

The sky was a bruised, pale gray when Everly finally stepped off the Long Island Rail Road early morning train.

She dragged her battered body down the long, private road leading to the Moss family's sprawling Hamptons estate. She limped heavily on her left leg, her hip throbbing with a dull, sickening ache from the car impact.

Her fingers were stiff with cold as she pressed her thumb against the biometric scanner at the wrought-iron gates. The heavy metal swung open. She walked across the perfectly manicured lawn.

She pushed open the massive oak front doors of the main house. A blast of warm, central heating hit her freezing skin, carrying the rich scent of freshly brewed espresso and toasted brioche.

In the formal dining room to her left, her mother-in-law, Marion, and her sister-in-law, Cecily, were sitting at the table, being served by a French chef.

At the sound of the door closing, both women turned their heads.

They saw Everly standing in the foyer. She was soaked to the bone, covered in mud, her dress torn, and her skin bruised.

Cecily dropped her silver coffee spoon onto her porcelain saucer with a loud clatter. She let out an exaggerated gasp.

"My god, you're dripping mud all over the Persian rug!" Cecily shrieked, her face twisting in disgust.

Marion stood up slowly. Her face was a mask of cold fury. She walked out of the dining room and approached Everly, her eyes raking over Everly's ruined state with absolute contempt.

Without a word of warning, Marion raised her hand and slapped Everly across the face with all her strength.

The sharp crack echoed through the high-ceilinged foyer.

Everly's head snapped to the side. Her cheek instantly burned with a bright red handprint. But she didn't cry. She didn't even flinch. She slowly turned her head back and stared dead into Marion's eyes.

"Staying out all night," Marion hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "Looking like a cheap street whore. You are a disgrace to the Moss name."

Cecily walked up behind her mother, crossing her arms. "The old man finally croaks, and she immediately runs out to find a new sugar daddy to pay her bills. Pathetic."

Everly's fingernails dug into the open wounds on her palms. The physical pain grounded her. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, refusing to engage. She turned her body toward the grand staircase, needing to see her daughter.

Marion stepped sideways, physically blocking the bottom of the stairs.

"Don't you dare walk away from me," Marion sneered. "And don't think you can use that retarded child of yours to stay in this house. That girl is a genetic embarrassment."

The word "retarded." The word "embarrassment."

The final thread of Everly's sanity snapped.

She raised her head. The look in her eyes was no longer human. It was the feral, murderous glare of a cornered wolf. She took a step forward, invading Marion's personal space.

Marion saw the pure violence in Everly's eyes. She gasped, stumbling backward in her heels, her ankle twisting slightly as she nearly fell.

"If you ever," Everly whispered, her voice a rough, gravelly rasp that sent chills down the hallway, "insult Aria again, I will drag every single one of you to hell with me."

She rammed her shoulder hard into Marion's chest, shoving the older woman out of the way. Everly dragged her injured leg up the stairs, never looking back.

When she reached the second-floor landing, the adrenaline faded, leaving her gasping for air. She leaned her back against the wall near the corner, clutching her ribs.

A faint murmur of voices drifted out from the partially open door of the family study just down the hall.

Everly held her breath. She forced her feet to move silently over the thick carpet, pressing her ear near the slight crack of the door. Inside, she couldn't hear every single word clearly, but the slick, nasal voice of Carson's personal lawyer carried just enough through the gap.

"...special needs trust fund... activate by the end of the month," the lawyer murmured. "...massive amount of liquid capital."

Then, a second voice answered, tinny and sharp through a speakerphone. It was Marion, her tone cold, calculating, and chillingly precise. "We need that cash for the IPO shortfall. Contact Dr. Evans. Pay him whatever he wants... write a medical evaluation stating Everly has suffered a severe psychotic break..."

The lawyer hesitated, his tone dropping lower. "...highly illegal, Mrs. Moss."

"I don't care," Marion snapped, her voice crackling with digital distortion as it rose in absolute irritation, no longer bothering to hide her vicious intent. "Declare her insane. Lock her in a ward. Once I have legal guardianship of that idiot child, the trust fund money legally falls under my control. I want that country trash out of my house."

Outside the door, the blood in Everly's veins turned to ice.

She bit down hard on the back of her own hand to muffle the sob tearing up her throat. Tears of pure, unadulterated hatred spilled over her lashes.

They weren't just going to throw her out. They were going to steal her daughter's lifeline.

Everly made a silent, blood-bound vow. Over my dead body.

She backed away from the door and moved silently toward the nursery.