Grace Keller POV:

The heavy oak door of the wine cellar slammed shut, the sound echoing in the suffocating darkness. The click of the lock was the sound of a tomb being sealed. It was damp, the air thick with the smell of earth and aging wine. And something else. A musky, animal scent that made the hair on my arms stand up.

I heard a skittering sound in the corner. Then another. My breath caught in my throat. Rats. My lifelong, paralyzing fear.

"Julian! Let me out!" I screamed, banging my fists against the unyielding wood. "Please!"

Only silence answered me. I pounded until my raw, burned hand throbbed in agony, until my voice was hoarse and my body sagged with exhaustion. Defeated, I slid down the door and curled into a ball on the cold stone floor, trying to make myself as small as possible, tears of pain and terror tracing cold paths down my cheeks.

Hours passed. Or maybe it was minutes. Time had no meaning in the dark. The scuttling sounds grew bolder, closer. I felt something brush against my leg and I screamed, a raw, ragged sound of pure animal fear.

Just when I thought I would lose my mind, the lock clicked. The door swung open, flooding the cellar with blinding light.

Julian stood silhouetted in the doorway, a dark avenging angel.

"Get up," he said, his voice flat.

Hope, foolish and fragile, fluttered in my chest. He was letting me go. He had come to his senses. I scrambled to my feet, my legs weak and trembling.

But he didn't move aside. Instead, two of his guards stepped forward and grabbed my arms.

"What are you doing?" I cried, struggling against their iron grip.

Julian stepped into the light, and I saw he was holding a small bowl. In it was a paste of crushed peanuts.

My blood ran cold. I have a severe, life-threatening allergy to peanuts. He knew. It was the first thing I told him when we started dating.

"Fabiola is allergic to shellfish," he said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "You put it in her soup on purpose. An eye for an eye, Grace."

"No!" I shrieked, thrashing wildly. "Julian, no, please! I didn't! She did this to me!"

They dragged me forward. One guard held my head back, pinching my nose, forcing my mouth open. The other took the bowl from Julian and scraped the thick, gritty paste onto my tongue.

The reaction was immediate. My throat began to close, the air turning to fire in my lungs. My skin erupted in angry, itching hives. I clawed at my neck, gasping, my vision starting to swim.

Julian watched, his face a mask of cold indifference, as I choked and convulsed on the floor. He watched me die.

"She's lying, Julian," I wheezed, the words barely audible. "Why won't you believe me?"

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was his cold, empty eyes, unmoved by my suffering.

I awoke in my own bed. The anaphylaxis was gone, replaced by the dull ache of a bruised esophagus and the lingering terror of suffocation.

Julian sat in a chair by the bed, looking as if he'd been there for hours.

"How could you, Grace?" he asked, his voice heavy with disappointment, as if I were the one who had betrayed him. "To stoop so low. To try and kill her."

I recoiled as he reached for my hand. The touch I once craved now felt like a brand.

"Did you even look?" I whispered, my voice a raw rasp. "Did you check the security cameras? Did you ask the staff? Did you do anything to find out the truth?"

A shadow passed over his face. He looked away, his jaw tight. "The truth is what I see. Fabiola is the victim here."

He stood up, pacing the room. "The medical board is launching a full investigation into your father's case, thanks to the negative press you generated. The only way to make it go away is for you to publicly restore Fabiola' s reputation."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"There's a charity gala tonight. You will get up on that stage, and you will tell everyone that Fabiola Barron is a brilliant surgeon who was unfairly slandered. You will say you were wrong."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. "You want me to lie for her? After everything she's done?"

"I want you to fix the mess you made," he snarled.

"No," I said, the word a rock in my throat. "Absolutely not."

His eyes turned to ice. "Your brother, Bryan, is on his way to the courthouse right now. He thinks he's filing a new motion. In reality, he's about to be arrested for perjury and attempting to bribe a hospital official. The evidence is already planted."

My world tilted on its axis. "You wouldn't."

"I would," he said, his voice a deadly promise. "Unless you do exactly as I say. You have until the gala begins. Make your choice, Grace."

He was a monster. A demon cloaked in a beautiful shell.

I was trapped. Utterly and completely trapped.

"Let Bryan go," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "Promise me you will call it off and he will be safe."

Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. "Do this for me, and he walks away clean."

"And my father?"

"He'll continue to receive the best care money can buy. As long as you behave."

There was no other way. My family was his hostage.

"Fine," I conceded, the word a surrender. "I'll do it."

Grace Keller POV:

The charity gala was a glittering affair, a sea of diamonds and champagne. I felt like a ghost haunting a party, my simple dress a stark contrast to the couture gowns around me. Julian stood by Fabiola's side all evening, his hand possessively on the small of her back. She was radiant, soaking in the attention, playing the part of the wronged heroine to perfection.

Julian caught my eye from across the room and gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. It was time.

My legs felt like lead as I walked to the stage. All eyes were on me, a mixture of curiosity and contempt. I gripped the sides of the podium, my knuckles white.

"I am here tonight," I began, my voice amplified by the microphone, sounding thin and strange to my own ears, "to offer a public apology to Dr. Fabiola Barron."

A murmur went through the crowd.

"My family has been through a difficult time," I continued, the words tasting like poison. "In my grief, I made unfair accusations. Dr. Barron is a surgeon of the highest caliber, and the complications my father suffered were... unavoidable. I deeply regret any damage my actions have caused to her reputation."

A smattering of polite applause followed. I didn't wait for more. I turned and walked off the stage, my face burning with shame. I just wanted to go home, to crawl into bed and disappear.

But Fabiola was waiting for me at the bottom of the steps, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

"That was a lovely speech, Grace," she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "But I think a grand gesture is in order. My driver is waiting. I need you to go to my apartment and fetch my favorite cashmere throw. It's chilly in here."

"No," I said, my voice flat.

She pouted, turning to Julian who had materialized at her side. "Julian, she's still being so difficult."

Julian's gaze was a silent command. Go. Obey.

Defeated, I turned and walked out of the grand ballroom, the sound of their laughter following me like a curse.

The night air was cold. I headed towards the parking garage, a deep sense of unease creeping up my spine. The garage was eerily quiet, the only sound the echo of my own footsteps.

Suddenly, two figures stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, blocking my path. They were large, menacing, and their eyes held a chilling emptiness.

"Mrs. Pena?" one of them grunted.

Before I could answer, they lunged. I tried to scream, to fight, but it was useless. They were too strong. One pinned my arms behind my back while the other delivered a brutal punch to my stomach. The air rushed out of my lungs in a gasp of agony.

"Who sent you?" I wheezed, slumping against the cold concrete.

The man who had punched me chuckled, a low, ugly sound. "Fabiola sends her regards. She said you needed to be taught a permanent lesson."

They were relentless. Kicks and punches rained down on me, each blow a new explosion of pain. I curled into a fetal position, trying to protect my head and stomach, but there was no escape. My ribs screamed in protest, and I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.

I was going to die here, alone, on the filthy floor of a parking garage.

My consciousness began to fade, the edges of my vision turning black. The beating stopped. I heard footsteps receding.

Then, the roar of an engine. Headlights blinded me. A car was speeding directly towards me.

This was it. The final, brutal end.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact.

But instead of the crunch of bone and metal, I heard a shout. A figure, a blur of motion in the periphery of my failing vision, was running towards me.

The last thing I remember before the darkness claimed me completely was being lifted into strong arms and a familiar, desperate voice calling my name. "Grace! Oh God, Grace, stay with me!"

I woke up in a hospital bed, every inch of my body a symphony of pain. Broken ribs, a concussion, severe internal bruising. I was lucky to be alive.

Julian sat by my bed, his face pale and drawn, his expensive suit rumpled. He looked exhausted, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of the man I had married in his bloodshot eyes.

"You're awake," he murmured, his voice thick with relief. "God, Grace, I was so scared."

He explained that he had come looking for me, that he had found me just in time and dealt with my attackers. He called it a "misunderstanding," a robbery gone wrong.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his hand hovering over mine, hesitant to touch. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, but for the first time in months, he ignored it. He gripped my hand, his thumb stroking my bruised knuckles. "When I saw you lying there... I thought I'd lost you."

I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened.

"It wasn't a robbery, Julian," I rasped, my voice weak. "It was Fabiola. She sent them."

His brow furrowed. "Don't be ridiculous, Grace. Why would she do that? She was with me the whole time." He was defending her. Even now. Even after this.

A laugh, dry and broken, escaped my lips. "Of course. She always is."

I was so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of trying to make him see the truth that was right in front of him. I closed my eyes, turning my face away from him.

"Grace, look at me," he pleaded, his voice soft. "This... this has to stop. I'll talk to Fabiola. We'll keep our distance from her for a while, okay? We'll go back to how things were."

He stayed with me all night, holding my hand, his head resting on the edge of my bed. He thought he was offering an olive branch, a return to a life I no longer wanted.

But I knew his promises were as empty as the space in my chest where my heart used to be. There was no going back. Not now. Not ever.

Outside the door, hidden in the shadows of the hallway, Fabiola watched, her eyes narrowed, a plan already forming behind her pretty, treacherous smile.

Grace Keller POV:

The hospital room door flew open with such force it slammed against the wall, jolting me from a fitful, pain-ridden sleep.

Julian stood there, his face a mask of pure fury. Before I could even register what was happening, he had ripped the blankets off me and hauled me out of bed. The sudden movement sent a fresh wave of agony through my broken ribs. I cried out, my legs buckling beneath me.

"Where is she?" he roared, his face inches from mine, his breath hot with rage. "What did you do with Fabiola?"

"What are you talking about?" I gasped, clutching my aching side. "I've been here, in this bed."

He didn't listen. He shoved something at me, something small and sharp. It was one of my own diamond stud earrings, the one I thought I' d lost. It was covered in blood.

"Her security team found this at her apartment," he snarled. "The place was ransacked. There was blood everywhere. She's gone, Grace. And you are the only person with a motive."

"No," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. "Julian, this is a setup. She's doing this to frame me. Again!"

His hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my throat. "Liar," he hissed, his grip tightening. Stars exploded behind my eyes as my air supply was cut off. He truly believed I was capable of this. He believed her, a woman who had systematically destroyed me, over me, his wife.

"I... can't... breathe," I choked out, my hands clawing at his.

He held me there for a terrifying moment longer before flinging me away. I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air.

"You want to play games, Grace?" he said, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "Fine. We'll play."

He snapped his fingers. Two of his guards appeared, dragging a whimpering, terrified figure into the room.

It was my brother, Bryan. They had brought him from the prison.

"What are you doing?" I screamed, scrambling to my knees.

They didn't answer. They dragged Bryan outside, onto the hospital's rooftop helipad. I saw them tie his hands behind his back, forcing him to stand at the very edge. Below him, the city lights swam dizzily. A car, one of Julian' s, sat idling a few feet away, its headlights pinning my brother like a frightened animal.

"Julian, no!" I sobbed, crawling towards him, grabbing the hem of his pants. "Please, don't do this!"

The car's engine revved. It lurched forward, its bumper nudging Bryan's legs, pushing him closer to the precipice. He cried out in terror.

"Admit it, Grace," Julian said, his voice as cold as the grave. "Admit you had something to do with Fabiola's disappearance."

"I didn't! I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it!" I wailed, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "Why are you doing this to me? To us?"

He gave a signal. The car lurched forward again, more forcefully this time. I heard a sickening crack, and Bryan screamed, a sound of pure agony. His leg was broken.

"Ten," Julian began to count, his voice calm and even. "Nine..."

"Please, stop!" I begged, tears streaming down my face. "I'll say whatever you want, just make it stop!"

He just laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. "Eight... seven..."

The car engine roared again.

"NO!" I shrieked. My mind snapped. An animalistic surge of adrenaline propelled me forward. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the fire in my ribs, and ran. I ran towards my brother, my only thought to shield him with my own body.

"Grace, no!" Julian's voice was sharp with alarm, a flicker of panic in his eyes for the first time.

He was too late.

The car, already in motion, couldn't stop. I threw myself in front of Bryan just as the vehicle slammed into me. The impact was a brutal, bone-shattering explosion of force. I was thrown through the air like a rag doll, landing in a crumpled heap several feet away.

The world went red. I tasted blood. A thick, warm stream of it spilled from my lips.

Julian rushed to my side, his face a canvas of horror and disbelief. He gathered me into his arms, his hands trembling. "Grace... oh God, Grace, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

His phone rang. An assistant's frantic voice crackled through the speaker. "Mr. Pena, we found her! We found Ms. Barron! She was at a spa resort upstate, her phone was off. She's fine!"

Fine. She was fine.

Julian froze, his eyes locked on my face, the truth of what he had done crashing down on him. He had tortured me, broken my brother, and nearly killed me, all for nothing. All for a lie.

He looked from my blood-splattered face to my brother, who was now being untied, then back to me. His choice was instantaneous.

"Get a medic for her," he snapped at one of his men, his voice strained. Then, into the phone, "Where is Fio? I'm on my way."

He was leaving me. Again. To go to her.