His heavy combat boots splashed through the puddles, closing the distance.

Griffin crouched in front of her. He pressed the flat, freezing edge of the knife against Adeline's cheek.

The blade was sharp enough to slice through a single layer of skin. A tiny bead of warm blood welled up, mixing with the cold rain on her face. The sting was sharp, but Adeline bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. She kept the vacant, drooling smile plastered on her face.

Griffin's eyes were dark, stormy, and unstable. He pressed harder. The blade slid down her jawline, hooking into the zipper of her cheap jacket.

With a flick of his wrist, he popped the zipper. The threat was clear and brutal.

Adeline's stomach plummeted. Every survival instinct screamed at her to fight. But she clapped her hands together instead, giggling at the shiny metal like a toddler watching a magic trick.

The lack of normal human fear frustrated Griffin. His jaw clenched. He reached out, his large hand grabbing the collar of her jacket and shirt. He ripped the fabric down her shoulder.

The freezing rain hit her bare skin.

A wave of pure humiliation and danger crashed over Adeline. If she stayed passive, he might actually violate her. She had to end this.

She dropped the lollipop. Like a feral, cornered cat, she lunged forward. She opened her mouth and sank her teeth deep into the wrist of the hand holding her shoulder.

She bit down with every ounce of strength she had. The metallic taste of his blood flooded her mouth.

Griffin didn't expect the attack. But it wasn't the pain that broke him. It was the touch.

The feeling of female skin, of human contact, shot through his nervous system like a million volts of electricity. His severe touch-induced mania, a condition he fought every single day, detonated.

A low, agonizing roar tore from his throat. The veins in his eyes stood out in stark relief against the sclera, turning them bloodshot and feral, as if a hemorrhage was threatening to burst from within. His sanity snapped.

He violently swung his arm. The sheer force of his movement launched Adeline through the air.

She slammed hard into the metal dumpster. The air was knocked from her lungs. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her bruised ribs, gasping for breath.

The knife clattered into the puddle. Griffin dropped to his knees. He clutched his head with both hands, his massive frame curling inward as he let out ragged, tortured breaths.

Through the dim light, Adeline watched him. Her sharp medical mind immediately recognized the symptoms. This wasn't anger. This was a severe, pathological neurological episode.

Griffin surged to his feet like a wild beast. He kicked the heavy metal dumpster. The deafening crash echoed down the block.

He stood in the rain, his chest heaving. He turned his bloodshot eyes toward Adeline, who was curled in the corner.

Adeline immediately grabbed a dirty candy wrapper from the mud and shoved it into her mouth, chewing on the plastic with wide, terrified, empty eyes.

Griffin stared at her filthy, pathetic state. The physiological nausea finally overpowered the violent storm in his brain.

Tires screeched. A black Cadillac SUV swerved into the mouth of the alley, its high beams blinding them both.

Winston Ames, an older man in a tailored suit, jumped out. He popped a black umbrella and rushed toward Griffin. When he saw the blood and Griffin's state, Winston's face went pale.

"Sir," Winston said, his hand dropping to the holster at his waist. He looked at Adeline. "Do we need to dispose of her?"

Griffin closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked at Adeline with absolute disgust.

"Leave the retard," Griffin spat.

Winston nodded, quickly holstering his weapon. He guided Griffin's shaking frame toward the back seat of the SUV.

Before getting in, Griffin looked back. His eyes locked onto Adeline one last time, filled with a lingering, chaotic irritation.

The heavy car door slammed shut. The SUV sped off into the rainy night, splashing dirty water onto the curb.

Adeline sat perfectly still until the red taillights disappeared completely.

She spat the plastic wrapper into the puddle.

The dull, empty look in her eyes vanished instantly. Her gaze became razor-sharp, cold, and calculating.

She reached up and touched her bare neck. Her grandfather's necklace was gone.

She pushed herself off the wet pavement, ignoring the throbbing pain in her ribs. She pulled her torn jacket tight across her shoulder. She was going to get that necklace back. No matter who that monster was.

Adeline walked out of the alley, the neon lights of the Manhattan streets reflecting in the puddles. She needed to find a subway station.

Two massive men in cheap black suits stepped out from the shadows of a closed bodega. They blocked the sidewalk.

The first goon pulled out his phone. He looked at the screen, then looked at Adeline's dirt-streaked face.

"It's her," he sneered, his thumb swiping across the screen before pocketing the device. He cracked his knuckles, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Looks even worse in person. Let's get this over with before the rain ruins my suit."

Adeline's heart went cold. Katrina. Her stepmother hadn't even waited for her to arrive in the Hamptons. She had sent killers to stop the marriage before it even started.

The second goon laughed, reaching out a meaty hand to grab Adeline's wet hair. "Come here, sweetheart. Let's make this quick."

Adeline ducked.

Her wrist flicked. Two incredibly thin, surgical-grade needles slid from the seams of her sleeves into her fingers.

She let out a fake, terrified squeak and stumbled forward, crashing directly into the first goon's chest.

In the split second their bodies collided, Adeline drove the needle precisely into the vagus nerve cluster at the base of his neck.

The man didn't even gasp. His eyes rolled back into his head. His massive body instantly lost all motor function and collapsed onto the wet concrete like a sack of dead weight.

The second goon froze, his eyes wide with shock. He thought his partner had just suffered a massive heart attack.

Adeline dropped to the ground. She sat in the puddle, pointing at the fallen man, and began to wail like a frightened five-year-old.

"Shut up!" The second goon yelled, his nerves fraying. He raised his hand to slap her across the face.

Adeline rolled away clumsily. As she scrambled, she brought her heel down hard on the arch of his foot.

The man grunted in pain and bent over.

It was all the opening she needed. The second needle flashed in the dim light. She drove it straight into the motor nerve node in his lower lumbar.

The goon's legs gave out instantly. He crashed to his knees, paralyzed from the waist down, his eyes wide with absolute horror as he stared at the crying girl.

Adeline stopped crying.

She stood up, brushing the dirt off her jeans. Her eyes were completely devoid of emotion as she stepped over the two paralyzed bodies and kept walking toward the subway.

Miles away, inside the speeding Cadillac SUV, Griffin leaned back against the leather seats. He took slow, deep breaths, forcing the manic energy back down into the dark corners of his mind.

Winston offered him a glass of ice water and a small white pill.

Griffin smacked the pill away. It bounced off the window.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver necklace. He rubbed his thumb over the heavy pendant, his mind racing.

"Sir," Winston said cautiously. "The Martinez family is pressing for details regarding the marriage arrangement."

Griffin let out a dark, humorless laugh. A monster like him, a man who couldn't even stand the touch of a woman without turning into a violent animal, didn't need a real wife.

An image flashed in his mind. A girl covered in mud, chewing on garbage, laughing at a knife.

Griffin opened his eyes. A twisted, brilliant plan formed in his head.

"Tell Martinez I agree to the marriage," Griffin said, his voice cold and absolute. "But I want the eldest daughter. The one they just brought back from the country."

Winston's eyes widened in shock. "Sir? But intelligence says she is... cognitively impaired. A defect. It will ruin the Herring family's reputation."

"Exactly," Griffin snapped. "A wife with no cognitive function is the perfect cover. She won't ask questions. She won't talk. She won't touch me."

Winston swallowed hard. He knew better than to argue when Griffin used that tone. He pulled out his tablet and began drafting the prenuptial agreement.

An hour later, Adeline sat in the back of a late-night bus heading toward the Hamptons.

She leaned her head against the cold glass window. Her reflection stared back at her. She wasn't going to run from this arranged marriage. She was going to use her "stupid" identity to tear the Martinez family apart from the inside out.

The bus dropped Adeline off at the edge of the Hamptons. She walked the rest of the way to the brightly lit, sprawling Martinez estate.

She took a deep breath. Her facial muscles relaxed, her eyes losing their focus. She became the broken, pathetic girl they expected.

The security guard at the gate sneered at her muddy clothes but buzzed the side door open.

Adeline walked into the grand foyer. The living room looked like a luxury boutique had exploded. Half the floor was covered in iconic orange Hermes boxes and red Cartier velvet cases.

Katrina Miller and her daughter, Damaris Frank, sat on the velvet sofa. They were practically vibrating with greed as they cataloged the engagement gifts sent by the Herring family.

Damaris held a custom diamond necklace against her collarbone, giggling. "I'm going to be a billionaire's wife, Mom."

Katrina looked up. Her smile vanished the second she saw Adeline dripping dirty rainwater onto the imported Persian rug.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Katrina spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You look like a homeless beggar. Don't ruin my carpets."

Adeline ignored her. She shuffled forward with heavy, uncoordinated steps. She reached out toward a towering, delicate macaron pyramid sitting on the coffee table.

"Don't touch that!" Damaris shrieked. She slapped Adeline's hand hard. "Those are for high-class people, you retard!"

Adeline let herself fall backward. She crashed into the table. The macaron tower toppled, sending colorful, crushed pastries rolling across the expensive rug.

Adeline sat on the floor and started to wail.

The heavy oak doors of the second-floor study swung open. Ewell Martinez marched down the stairs, his face flushed with anger.

He looked at Adeline sitting in the ruined pastries. There was no fatherly warmth in his eyes, only the deep annoyance of a man looking at a defective product.

"Ewell!" Katrina cried, playing the victim. "She just got here and she's already destroying the Herring family's gifts!"

Ewell pointed a trembling finger at Adeline. "If you ruin this marriage and cost me my company, I will throw you back into the gutter where you belong!"

Adeline stopped crying. She put her thumb in her mouth and stared at him blankly, as if the words meant nothing.

Ewell rubbed his temples in disgust. "Get her out of my sight. Put her in the basement storage room."

Katrina's eyes gleamed with malice. She nodded to the butler.

The butler grabbed Adeline's arm and dragged her toward the narrow stairs leading down to the basement. Damaris laughed loudly behind her, bragging about how all the gifts would soon be hers.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

The basement was damp, smelling of mold and old dust. There was a single, rusted cot in the corner. No windows.

Adeline brushed the butler's invisible touch off her sleeve. The blankness in her eyes vanished, replaced by a chilling clarity.

She scanned the room. No cameras. The ventilation shaft was wide enough for air, but not for a person. Perfect.

She reached into the hidden lining of her jeans and pulled out a modified, encrypted micro-phone.

Her thumbs flew across the tiny screen, bypassing the estate's network and connecting directly to the dark web. She sent a highly encrypted message to her most trusted informant.

I need everything on the man who attacked me in Hell's Kitchen tonight. He's massive, highly trained, and moving in a black Cadillac SUV linked to a private executive security detail. Pull traffic cams, facial recognition, everything. Provide all possible matches immediately.

She slid the phone into a hollow space beneath the cot's metal frame.

Adeline lay down on the hard mattress. She could hear the faint, muffled laughter of Katrina and Damaris upstairs.

A cold, cruel smile touched her lips. She closed her eyes, mapping out exactly how she was going to make Damaris pay tomorrow.