Evelyn pressed the red call button taped to the bedrail.

A nurse hurried in. Evelyn held out her hand. "Take the IV out."

The nurse looked at Evelyn's pale face with deep concern. "Mrs. Harrison, Dr. Matthews strongly advised at least another twenty-four hours of observation."

Evelyn shook her head. "Take it out." She knew this room was no longer safe. Julian could send his people to force a medical intervention at any second.

The nurse sighed and carefully removed the needle. Evelyn pressed a cotton ball to the puncture mark. She put her trench coat back on over her clothes and walked to the nurses' station to sign the Against Medical Advice discharge forms.

Evelyn walked out of the hospital doors. The midday sun hit her face, forcing her to squint.

She hailed another cab and gave the driver the address to the Manhattan penthouse. She needed to pack her things and leave before Julian locked her out completely.

The cab stopped in front of the luxury high-rise. The doorman saw her approaching. His eyes darted away nervously, but he still reached out and pulled the heavy glass door open for her.

Evelyn pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner in the private elevator. The car shot upward smoothly. Inside, her chest felt hollow, her emotions completely flat.

The doors opened on the top floor. Evelyn stepped out and pushed open the massive double walnut doors of the penthouse.

Standing in the center of the living room was a woman in a sharp, tailored skirt suit. Her face was a mask of cold professionalism. It was Camila Shaw, Julian's ruthless personal lawyer and fixer, the woman who handled all of his most brutal private affairs.

Camila held an iPad. She was pointing and giving orders to two massive bodyguards who were taking photos of the artwork and furniture.

Camila turned and saw Evelyn. She didn't offer a greeting. "Julian has ordered the immediate execution of the prenuptial agreement," Camila said, her tone entirely robotic.

Evelyn gave her a freezing look. She didn't say a word. She walked straight past Camila and headed into the master bedroom.

She went to the back of the massive walk-in closet. She dragged out an old, scuffed suitcase from the bottom shelf. It was the same one she had brought with her three years ago.

Evelyn started pulling cheap knit sweaters and faded jeans off the velvet hangers. These were clothes she had bought with her own savings before the marriage.

Camila followed her into the closet like a shadow. Her sharp eyes watched Evelyn's every move.

Evelyn reached toward the vanity table to grab a wooden jewelry box. Camila stepped forward and physically blocked her path.

"According to clause three of the prenuptial agreement," Camila stated coldly, "all jewelry gifted by the husband during the marriage remains the property of the Harrison estate."

Evelyn took a deep breath. She reached around Camila, popped the latch on the box, and dumped the diamond necklaces Julian had given her onto the glass table. She reached into the empty felt bottom and pulled out a single, tarnished silver chain.

It was her late mother's necklace. Camila glanced at the cheap metal and took a half-step back in disgust.

Evelyn shoved the necklace into her pocket. She walked out of the closet and into the study. She opened the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a thick, black hardcover notebook.

This notebook contained three years of secret research and development formulas for Aura Beauty. It was her real lifeline.

Just then, Camila's cell phone rang. Camila answered it and deliberately tapped the speakerphone button.

Julian's voice, cold and sharp, echoed in the quiet study. "Have you thrown that greedy woman out yet?"

Evelyn's hands froze on the zipper of her suitcase. Her knuckles turned white.

"If she insists on having those bastards," Julian's voice continued through the speaker, dripping with venom, "tell her she'll be raising them in a gutter. The Harrison family will never acknowledge them, and I'll make sure no one in this city ever helps her."

A violent surge of pure hatred ignited in Evelyn's chest. She yanked the zipper of the suitcase closed with a loud, aggressive rip.

She marched right up to Camila. She leaned toward the phone in Camila's hand.

"In his dreams," Evelyn said, her voice dripping with absolute disgust.

Evelyn grabbed the handle of her suitcase. She turned her back on the study and walked toward the front door, not looking back once.

Camila ended the call. She gave a quick nod to the bodyguards standing by the entrance.

The two massive men stepped sideways, completely blocking the front door.

The two bodyguards stood like brick walls in front of the double doors, completely cutting off Evelyn's exit.

Evelyn stopped. She turned around slowly. Her eyes were like daggers as they locked onto Camila, who was walking up behind her.

Camila stopped a few feet away. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her chin tilted up in arrogance. "Open the suitcase. We need to inspect it."

"I am taking my own clothes," Evelyn said, her voice tight.

"I have to ensure you aren't smuggling out any Harrison family assets or confidential documents," Camila replied.

Evelyn sucked in a sharp breath. Her chest burned with the effort to keep her anger contained. She let go of the suitcase handle and took a step back.

She gestured toward the bag with an open palm. "Be my guest."

Camila crouched down. She yanked the zipper open roughly. She dug her manicured hands into the neatly folded sweaters, tossing them aside and messing up the entire contents.

Then, she reached out and snatched the tarnished silver necklace from Evelyn’s coat pocket. She inspected the clasp, realized it was worthless junk, and tossed it back onto the pile of clothes with a sneer.

Then, Camila stood up. Her eyes fell on the black hardcover notebook that Evelyn was clutching tightly against her chest.

"Hand over the notebook," Camila demanded.

Evelyn's heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers dug into the leather cover. This was the core of Aura Beauty.

"No," Evelyn said coldly. "This is my personal diary. It has nothing to do with the Harrisons."

Camila let out a dry laugh. She flicked her eyes to the bodyguard on the left. The massive man stepped forward, grabbed Evelyn's wrist, and forcefully ripped the notebook out of her arms.

The sudden violent pull threw Evelyn off balance. She stumbled sideways, her shoulder slamming hard into the drywall of the entryway. A sharp, familiar cramp bloomed in her lower abdomen, making her breath hitch in terror.

Camila took the notebook from the guard. She flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the pages filled with complex chemical formulas, molecular structures, and botanical extraction ratios.

Because Camila’s expertise lay in ironclad contracts rather than science, the advanced cosmetic chemistry looked like absolute gibberish to her. She dismissed the complex notations as nothing more than a pathetic collection of cooking recipes or DIY skincare notes.

Camila scoffed loudly. She tossed the notebook back at Evelyn like it was a piece of trash.

The heavy book hit Evelyn in the chest and fell to the hardwood floor. Evelyn crouched down immediately. She picked it up carefully, brushing an invisible speck of dust from the cover.

Camila clapped her hands together, signaling the end of the search. "You can take your garbage and leave now."

Evelyn knelt on the floor and zipped her suitcase back up. She stood tall. She didn't say a single word to Camila. She grabbed the handle and walked out the front door.

She stepped into the elevator. She watched the stainless-steel doors slide shut, finally sealing off the prison she had lived in for three years.

As the elevator descended, Evelyn pulled her phone from her pocket. She dialed Elliot Thorne's number.

He answered on the first ring. "Evelyn?" His deep voice was immediately laced with concern.

"Come get me. I’m at the penthouse," Evelyn said. Her voice cracked, just once.

Evelyn walked out of the lobby. The sky above Manhattan had turned a bruised, dark gray. A freezing, steady rain was falling.

She stood under the narrow awning of the building. The biting wind whipped the cold rain against her thin trench coat. She shivered violently, her teeth chattering. The biting cold seeped into her bones, and a dull, rhythmic throb began to pulse in her womb—a grim reminder of the doctor’s warning.

The doorman watched her through the glass, his eyes full of pity, but company policy kept him inside.

Evelyn positioned her suitcase to block the wind. She wrapped her arms around herself, counting the minutes until Elliot would arrive.

Half an hour later, what felt like an absolute eternity to Evelyn, a black, armored Maybach tore through the rain and slammed on its brakes right at the curb in front of the building. During those agonizing thirty minutes, the biting wind had completely soaked through her thin coat, freezing her to the bone while passing pedestrians cast pitying glances at her shivering frame.

The rear door flew open. Elliot Thorne, dressed in a bespoke black suit, stepped out. He popped open a massive black umbrella and took the stairs two at a time.

Elliot reached her. He tilted the massive umbrella entirely over Evelyn's head, completely exposing his own broad shoulders to the freezing downpour.

Elliot looked down at Evelyn. He saw her pale lips and the rain soaking the hem of her jeans. A dark, violent rage flashed in his deep eyes.

He reached out with his free hand and took the handle of her battered suitcase. With a swift motion, he shrugged off his suit jacket, which still held the heat of his body, and draped it over Evelyn's shivering shoulders.

Evelyn pulled the oversized jacket tighter around herself. The sudden warmth seeped into her skin. "Thank you," she whispered.

Elliot guided her down the concrete steps toward the waiting Maybach. His bodyguard had already opened the rear door for them.

Just as Evelyn bent down to slide into the leather seat, the screech of tires tore through the sound of the rain. A silver Aston Martin swerved aggressively in front of the Maybach, completely blocking it in.

The driver's side door was shoved open. Julian Harrison stepped out. He didn't bother with an umbrella. He marched straight into the freezing rain.

He had driven back to the penthouse to grab a file he left in the study, only to pull up and witness this exact scene.

Julian's eyes locked onto Evelyn like a targeting laser. He saw Elliot's suit jacket draped over her. The rain ran down Julian's sharp jawline, but the fire in his eyes was burning out of control.

He closed the distance in long, angry strides.

Elliot immediately stepped forward. He positioned his large frame directly in front of Evelyn, shielding her entirely from Julian's view.

Julian stopped two feet away. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Kicked out of my house for five minutes, and you've already found your next sponsor."

Julian shifted his gaze to Elliot, his lip curling in disgust. "I didn't know you had a fetish for wearing my used shoes, Thorne."

Elliot's eyes went dead cold. He shoved the umbrella into his bodyguard's hand. He lunged forward and grabbed Julian by the collar of his wet dress shirt.

"Watch your mouth," Elliot snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I have no problem beating a CEO to a pulp on the street."

Julian didn't flinch. He glared right back, slapping Elliot's hands away and adjusting his ruined collar.

Julian looked past Elliot's shoulder, aiming his words directly at Evelyn. His mouth twisted into a vicious sneer.

"Good for you, Evelyn," Julian shouted over the rain. "You finally found a sucker to raise those bastards in your stomach."

The word bastards hit Evelyn like a poisoned blade straight to the heart. Her body jerked under Elliot's jacket.

She stared at the man she had loved for ten years. He looked like a complete stranger. A monster.

Elliot lost his mind. He pulled his right arm back and drove his fist directly into Julian's cheekbone.

The sickening crack of bone hitting bone echoed in the rain. Julian stumbled backward, caught entirely off guard. Blood immediately pooled at the corner of his mouth.

Julian's driver jumped out of the Aston Martin, rushing forward. The tension on the street spiked to a lethal level.

Just as Elliot raised his fists again, Evelyn stepped out from behind him.

She reached out with her pale hand and wrapped her fingers around Elliot's clenched fist. She gently pulled his arm down and shook her head.

Evelyn turned to look at Julian. He was wiping the blood from his lip. The agonizing pain and desperate love that used to live in her eyes were completely gone. There was nothing left but dead, gray ash.

"From this second on," Evelyn said, her voice so cold and flat it cut through the rain, "my children and I have absolutely nothing to do with you."

She didn't wait for a response. She turned around and slid into the back of the Maybach.

Elliot shot Julian one last look of pure disgust, like he was looking at a pathetic loser. He got into the car and slammed the door shut.

The Maybach's engine roared to life. It reversed smoothly, steered around the Aston Martin, and disappeared into the gray rain.

Julian stood alone on the wet pavement. He watched the red taillights fade away. Suddenly, a sharp, unexplainable pain pierced the center of his chest, making it hard to breathe.