Garrett sits on the edge of the mattress. "Ellie," he whispers, his voice dripping with practiced warmth. "Wake up, sweetheart."

Elliana opens her eyes. Her stomach violently churns, but she forces the corners of her mouth up, stretching her lips into a groggy, sweet smile.

Garrett holds out a crystal glass of water and two small, white pills. "Dr. Evans sent over the new imported multivitamins. Time to take them."

Elliana stares at the white disks resting in his palm. The tips of her fingers turn ice-cold. She doesn't move.

Garrett's hand drops a fraction of an inch. He adjusts his left cufflink with his right hand. His eyes narrow, scanning her face. "Are you feeling alright, darling?"

The shift in his tone is subtle, but the threat is palpable. She is being tested.

Elliana immediately pouts, rubbing her right arm. "I was drawing for six hours yesterday. My wrist is killing me."

She reaches out, picking up the pills. She places them on the center of her tongue, takes a large gulp of water, and tilts her head back. Her throat bobs in an exaggerated swallowing motion.

Garrett's shoulders relax. He smiles, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead.

He stands and turns his back to her, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows to pull back the heavy drapes.

In that three-second window, Elliana uses her tongue to push the pills from the roof of her mouth. She brings her hand to her lips, swiftly spitting the damp white disks into a crumpled tissue she had hidden in her palm. She balls the paper up tightly and shoves it deep into the pocket of her silk pajama pants.

Garrett turns around. "Cristina is flying back from Paris tomorrow. We need to pick her up at JFK."

Cristina. The final piece of the logic puzzle locks into place. Cristina had stolen Colin from her. Garrett had swooped in immediately after.

This marriage is not a romance. It is a prison. A cage built to keep her sedated and far away from Colin.

A tremor starts in her hands and rapidly spreads to her shoulders. She is shaking with pure, unadulterated rage.

Garrett crosses the room in two strides. His heavy hands clamp down on her shoulders. "Why are you shaking?" His voice is low, dangerous.

Panic spikes in her chest. She looks up, forcing her eyes to widen. She lets out a breathless laugh.

"Garrett! I just remembered! A Hollywood studio emailed my agent this morning. They want to buy the film rights to The Prairie Fire!"

She uses the physical tremors, channeling her rage into a mask of overwhelming excitement.

Garrett's grip loosens. The suspicion in his eyes melts away, replaced instantly by a dark, calculating gleam of greed.

"That is incredible news," he says smoothly. "But Hollywood contracts are a nightmare. Let my legal team handle the negotiations. I want to protect you."

Bile rises in her throat again. She nods eagerly, looking up at him with wide, dependent eyes. "Yes, please."

Garrett checks his Rolex. "I have a crisis at the firm. I need to head back down."

He walks to the door, pausing in the hallway. "Brenda! Make sure my wife eats a full lunch."

The elevator doors slide shut.

The smile drops from Elliana's face. Her features turn to stone.

She walks into the bathroom and locks the door. She turns the sink faucet on full blast.

She pulls the damp, slightly dissolved pills from her pocket. She wraps them carefully in a tissue and shoves them into the hidden zipper compartment of her makeup bag.

She opens the mirrored medicine cabinet. Rows of amber bottles stare back at her.

She reaches to the very back, pulling out a bottle of generic, over-the-counter calcium supplements she had bought months ago. The chalky white tablets are nearly identical in shape and texture to the sedatives. She dumps the remaining prescribed pills from the current amber bottle into the toilet and flushes them away, replacing them with the harmless calcium tablets.

She grips the edges of the marble sink, staring at her pale reflection. She swears to make them pay.

The black Cadillac Escalade idles outside the VIP arrivals terminal at JFK. The engine emits a low, steady hum.

Garrett stands on the curb in a bespoke suit, holding a massive bouquet of champagne roses. His eyes dart toward the glass doors with an intense, almost feverish anticipation.

Elliana stands beside him in a simple beige trench coat. She watches her husband's unnatural obsession with his sister with dead, cold eyes.

The glass doors slide open. Cristina struts out, wearing oversized Chanel sunglasses and towering red-soled Louboutins.

Behind her, a small army of airport staff pushes brass carts loaded with Louis Vuitton trunks.

Cristina's eight-year-old son, Blair, trails beside her, aggressively mashing the buttons on a limited-edition gaming console.

Elliana scans the entourage. Colin is not with them.

Garrett steps forward. Cristina rips off her sunglasses, lets out a high-pitched squeal, and throws herself into Garrett's arms.

The embrace is suffocatingly tight. Garrett's hands slide down and linger on the small of Cristina's back for far too long.

A wave of revulsion hits Elliana's stomach.

She forces the bile down, steps forward, and pastes a soft, welcoming smile on her face. "Welcome back to New York, Cristina."

Cristina doesn't even blink in her direction. She looks right through Elliana, complaining to Garrett about the terrible pastries in Paris.

The blatant disrespect hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.

Blair runs up to Elliana. He lifts his heavy sneaker and stomps down hard on her brand-new Prada flats.

A sharp pain shoots through her toes. A black scuff mark ruins the pristine white leather.

Elliana gasps, stumbling backward.

Blair points at her and sticks his tongue out. "Stupid woman!"

Elliana snaps her head toward Garrett, waiting for him to discipline his nephew.

Garrett reaches down and ruffles Blair's hair. "He's just playing, Ellie. Don't be so sensitive."

Cristina finally turns her head. She looks Elliana up and down. "You look like a hot dog vendor from Times Square. Did you buy that coat at a thrift store?"

Elliana's fingernails dig into her palms. The pain grounds her, keeping the explosive anger locked inside her chest.

She lowers her head, letting her shoulders slump. She plays the role of the pathetic, broken wife perfectly.

Cristina and Garrett exchange a smug, victorious look over her bowed head.

The driver opens the doors of the Escalade. As the wife, Elliana should take the front passenger seat.

Cristina shoves past her and slides into the front seat without a word.

Garrett climbs into the second-row captain's chair, pulling Blair onto his lap.

Elliana is left standing on the curb. She silently climbs into the cramped, windowless third row.

The heavy doors slam shut, trapping her in a confined space reeking of Cristina's overpowering floral perfume.

Garrett and Cristina immediately launch into a loud conversation about a dinner party on the Upper East Side.

Sitting in the dark shadows of the back row, Elliana stares at the rearview mirror. She watches Garrett's eyes trace his sister's profile. She reaches into her pocket and hits record on her phone.

The Escalade merges onto the Long Island Expressway. The evening rush hour traffic is a dense, crawling sea of red taillights.

The driver taps the brakes, trying to navigate the congested lanes. The massive SUV sways slightly.

In the second row, Blair throws his gaming console onto the floor. He starts screaming, kicking the back of the driver's seat.

Cristina laughs from the front seat. "Look at him, Garrett. So much energy. He's a natural leader."

Blair unbuckles his seatbelt and stands up on the leather seat.

He pulls a heavy, solid metal Captain America shield from his backpack and swings it wildly through the air.

The edge of the metal shield slams into Garrett's shoulder with a sickening thud.

Garrett winces, rubbing his arm, but his voice remains sickeningly sweet. "Careful, buddy. Sit down."

In the third row, a primal sense of danger makes the hairs on Elliana's arms stand up. She grips the plastic safety handle above the door.

"Cristina, he needs his seatbelt," Elliana says. "We're on the highway."

Cristina whips her head around, her eyes flashing with venom. "You are barren. You know nothing about raising a child. Keep your mouth shut."

Garrett glares at Elliana through the rearview mirror. "Stop ruining the mood, Elliana. Be quiet."

Elliana sucks in a breath, clamps her jaw shut, and pulls her own seatbelt tighter across her chest.

Emboldened, Blair climbs onto the center console between the front and second rows.

He swings the heavy metal shield forward, intentionally bashing it against the back of the driver's headrest. The driver flinches, his vision blurring for a split second from the impact. In that exact moment of distraction, a sedan in the adjacent lane abruptly cuts them off to make a last-minute exit. The driver gasps, his hands jerking the steering wheel to avoid a collision. The Escalade's tires screech against the asphalt. A hundred yards ahead, a massive semi-truck loaded with steel pipes slams on its brakes in response to the swerving sedan. "Watch out!" the driver screams, stomping on the brake pedal.

The violent deceleration launches Blair forward. He flies toward the windshield.

Cristina screams, throwing her hands over her face.

Garrett unbuckles his seatbelt. He lunges forward, throwing his entire body weight over the console to grab Blair's legs.

Garrett's shoulder crashes heavily into the driver's right arm.

The driver loses the wheel entirely. The Escalade violently fishtails across the lanes.

The front bumper misses the semi-truck, but the entire right side of the SUV is exposed to the oncoming traffic.

A Ford F-150 pickup truck, traveling at sixty miles per hour, plows directly into the right rear quarter panel.

The sound of tearing metal is deafening. The airbags deploy with the explosive force of a shotgun blast.

The kinetic energy transfers directly into the third row.

The reinforced glass shatters. Thousands of shards explode inward like shrapnel.

As the SUV rolls, Elliana curls into a tight ball. She wraps both arms fiercely around her stomach, protecting the life inside her.

Her head slams against the C-pillar. A blinding flash of white pain rips through her skull, followed instantly by a suffocating, blood-red darkness.