The morning sun pierced through the gap in the heavy curtains, striking Elizbeth directly in the eyes.

She groaned and shifted on the narrow velvet sofa. Her neck was stiff, and a dull ache radiated down her spine.

She sat up, rubbing the back of her neck. The sound of running water echoed from the master bathroom.

A moment later, the bathroom door swung open. Carlton walked out. He had a white towel wrapped low around his waist. Droplets of water clung to his broad chest and slid down the deep ridges of his abs.

Elizbeth's breath hitched. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She quickly averted her eyes, staring hard at the floor, her heart suddenly beating entirely too fast.

A sharp knock sounded at the bedroom door.

"Sir," Judi's voice called out clearly from the hallway. "The elder Mr. Wilkinson is coming up the stairs."

Carlton's head snapped toward the door. Panic flashed in his dark eyes. He moved instantly.

He crossed the room in three massive strides and grabbed Elizbeth by the upper arm.

"Hey!" Elizbeth yelped as he hauled her off the sofa.

He practically threw her onto the center of the king-sized bed. She bounced against the mattress, completely disoriented.

Carlton jumped onto the bed next to her. He grabbed the thick duvet and yanked it up, covering them both up to their shoulders. He pulled her body flush against his bare, damp chest.

The double doors of the bedroom swung open.

Jacob Wilkinson stepped into the room. He leaned heavily on a silver-headed cane, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning the space.

The cold, ruthless expression on Carlton's face vanished instantly. It was replaced by a soft, affectionate smile.

Carlton wrapped his heavy arm around Elizbeth's waist, pulling her even closer. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

Elizbeth's entire body went rigid. Her muscles locked up.

Carlton's fingers dug into her waist under the covers, pinching her hard. It was a silent, painful warning.

Elizbeth gasped slightly from the pinch. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a shy smile. She looked at the old man.

"Good morning, Grandfather," she said, her voice tight.

Jacob's sharp eyes lingered on their tangled bodies. The tight lines around his mouth relaxed into a satisfied nod.

He walked slowly toward the side of the bed. "How did you both sleep?" he asked, his voice rough like sandpaper.

Carlton ducked his head. He pressed his warm lips against Elizbeth's forehead, letting them linger there.

"Everything was perfect, Grandfather," Carlton murmured, his voice thick with fake adoration.

The feel of his lips on her skin sent a violent shiver down Elizbeth's spine. A bitter, sour feeling rose in the back of her throat.

Jacob reached into his tweed jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, square velvet box and set it gently on the nightstand.

"Take good care of your wife, Carlton," Jacob instructed. He tapped his cane on the floor once, turned around, and walked out of the room.

The heavy doors closed. The loud click of the lock echoed in the quiet room.

The warmth vanished from Carlton's face in a fraction of a second. His eyes turned back to ice.

He let go of Elizbeth as if she were covered in acid. He threw the duvet off his body and rolled out of the bed, putting as much distance between them as possible.

The sudden loss of his body heat was a stark reminder of the act. The warmth had been a lie, and the cold that replaced it felt more honest, yet somehow more brutal. A bitter wave of humiliation washed over her, and she had to fight the sting in her eyes.

Carlton grabbed a dry towel and aggressively rubbed his wet hair. He glared at her.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered, his voice dripping with disdain. "And don't get used to the acting. Remember exactly why you're here."

Elizbeth clamped her teeth together. She pulled the duvet up to her chest, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the fabric. She refused to let a single tear fall while he was looking.

Carlton walked into the closet. He emerged a few minutes later wearing a perfectly tailored Armani suit. He didn't even glance at the velvet box on the nightstand.

He grabbed his watch from the dresser, strapped it to his wrist, and walked out of the bedroom without looking back.

After Carlton left, Elizbeth sat alone in the massive, empty bed. She reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the velvet box, her chest heavy with a suffocating weight. She knew she couldn't stay in this hostile room without the one thing that brought her comfort. Slipping out of the master bedroom, she hurried down the hall to the guest room.

Elizbeth sat cross-legged on the bed. She slowly popped open the velvet box.

Resting on a bed of white satin was a stunning antique brooch, shaped like a swallow in mid-flight.

She picked it up and pressed the cool metal against the center of her chest. The memory of Carlton's fake kiss and his immediate, violent rejection played on a loop in her mind. A single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek and dripping onto her collarbone.

She wiped her face aggressively. She needed to ground herself.

She turned and reached into her open medical bag she had just brought in, sitting on the floor. Her fingers brushed against the soft leather of her acupuncture roll. She traced the outlines of the specialized silver needles hidden inside. The familiar texture calmed her racing heart.

She took a deep breath, slipped the leather roll into the pocket of her silk robe, and stood up. Her throat was dry. She needed a glass of water from the kitchen downstairs.

Elizbeth opened the master bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The estate was eerily silent.

As she walked past the grand staircase, a loud, heavy thud echoed from the West Wing.

Elizbeth froze. Her heart skipped a beat. She stared down the dark, forbidden corridor. The contract clause flashed in her mind: Permanent ban from entering the West Wing.

Another crash sounded, louder this time. It was followed by a low, guttural roar of pure agony. It sounded like a wild animal trapped in a snare.

Elizbeth's medical instincts flared, instantly overriding her fear. She gritted her teeth, turned on her heel, and sprinted toward the West Wing.

The lighting in this hallway was dim. The air felt heavy and oppressive.

She followed the sounds to a massive oak door at the very end of the hall. It was cracked open.

Elizbeth pushed the door gently. It swung inward, revealing a scene of absolute chaos.

Shattered porcelain and the remains of an expensive floor lamp littered the Persian rug.

Carlton was on his knees in the center of the room. Both of his hands were clamped the sides of his head. The muscles in his arms and back were twitching violently, spasming out of control.

He let out another agonizing roar. He lunged forward and slammed his forehead directly into the solid walnut wainscoting covering the wall.

Elizbeth gasped. A dark smear of blood was already painted across the wood paneling.

She didn't think. She bolted into the room, her bare feet crunching over broken glass.

"Carlton, stop!" she screamed, reaching out and grabbing his broad shoulders to pull him back.

Carlton's head snapped around. His eyes were bloodshot, the whites completely red. His pupils were blown wide, unfocused and wild. He had completely lost his mind to the pain.

Like a provoked beast, he swung his massive arm backward.

The sheer force of his strike caught Elizbeth in the chest. She was lifted off her feet and thrown backward through the air.

Her spine crashed against a heavy mahogany bookcase.

Pain exploded in her back, radiating down her legs. She let out a choked gasp and slid down the wood, collapsing onto the floor. She curled in on herself, her face contorting in agony.

Carlton didn't even register that she was there. He raised his bloody fist and began pounding it into the wall, the skin on his knuckles splitting open.

Elizbeth watched him, her breathing shallow. He was experiencing a catastrophic neurological pain event. If she didn't stop him, he was going to kill himself.

She ignored the screaming pain in her spine. She bit her lip until it bled, placed her hands flat on the floor, and forced herself to stand on shaking legs.

She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out the black leather roll.

Her fingers worked with practiced speed, flicking the leather strap open. A row of long, gleaming silver needles caught the dim light.

Elizbeth took a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes locked onto the back of Carlton's neck, mapping the critical acupoints hidden beneath his skin.

She pulled out the longest needle-the nerve-calming pin. Her eyes hardened with absolute focus.

With desperate determination, Elizbeth lunged across the room toward the out-of-control man.

Elizbeth gripped the long silver needle tightly between her thumb and index finger. She launched herself at Carlton's back.

Carlton heard the rush of air behind him. His combat instincts flared through the haze of pain. He spun around wildly, his bleeding arm sweeping horizontally to take her head off.

Elizbeth knew she couldn't overpower a trained soldier. As his massive arm swept toward her, she intentionally let her knees buckle, dropping to the floor with a sharp cry. The sudden sound broke through his violent haze for a fraction of a second. Carlton hesitated, his momentum throwing him off balance. Elizbeth seized the opening. She scrambled forward, grabbing his wrist with both hands and using his own downward force to pull him to the carpet. But his reflexes were terrifying. Even disoriented, he twisted his body. Within a second, he was on top of her, pinning her flat against the ground.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto hers. His large right hand shot out and clamped down hard around her throat.

Elizbeth's airway was instantly crushed. Her face flushed dark red. She gagged, her left hand flying up to claw desperately at his thick forearm.

Her lungs burned for oxygen, but her right hand remained steady. She still held the silver needle. Her eyes stayed locked on the back of his neck.

As Carlton squeezed her throat harder, the muscles in his neck flexed and tightened, perfectly exposing the base of his skull.

Elizbeth's eyes narrowed. She found the Fengchi acupoint. Without a second of hesitation, she drove the needle deep into the base of his neck.

The moment the metal pierced his nerve cluster, Carlton's massive body went completely rigid. His pupils contracted violently.

Elizbeth felt the crushing grip on her throat loosen slightly. She shoved his hand away, gasping loudly, sucking air into her burning lungs.

She didn't stop moving. She reached into the leather roll on the floor and pulled out three more needles.

Her hands moved in a blur. She precisely inserted the needles into the calming acupoints on his scalp and the top of his shoulders.

Carlton let out a low, heavy groan. The frantic, wild energy drained from his body as if a plug had been pulled.

His tense muscles turned to jelly. The violent red color faded from his eyes. His heavy eyelids drooped, and he collapsed forward, his dead weight crushing Elizbeth against the floor.

Elizbeth grunted under his weight. She carefully pushed his heavy shoulders off her and rolled him onto his back.

She collapsed onto the carpet next to him, her entire body soaked in cold sweat. Her chest heaved as she stared at the ceiling.

She turned her head and looked at his pale, finally peaceful face. Her heart ached. She reached out a trembling hand and gently brushed a lock of dark hair away from his closed eyes.

Thirty minutes passed in total silence. Elizbeth sat cross-legged beside him, her eyes glued to the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Suddenly, Carlton's brow twitched. His index finger jerked against the carpet.

His eyes snapped open. The wildness was gone, replaced instantly by the cold, lethal alertness of a trained soldier.

He sat up in a flash. He immediately felt the strange, sharp pressure at the base of his skull.

His hand flew to the back of his neck. His fingers brushed the metal pins. His face twisted into a mask of pure, murderous rage.

He ripped the silver needles out of his skin and threw them onto the floor. He slowly turned his head and locked his dead eyes onto Elizbeth.

Before she could blink, he lunged.

His hand clamped around her bruised throat once again. He lifted her off the floor and slammed her back against the wall.

"What did you do to me?" he hissed, his voice sounding like it came straight from hell.