Adaline walked down the long, silent corridor of the second floor.

The sleeves of the silk shirt hung past her fingertips. She rolled them up, her movements stiff and mechanical.

She reached the heavy oak doors at the end of the hall. The study.

The door was left slightly ajar. Inside, Ferris sat behind a massive mahogany desk. He was flipping through a stack of legal documents, his face an unreadable mask.

Adaline raised her hand. Her knuckles rapped twice against the wood. A dull, hollow sound.

Ferris didn't look up. "Enter."

She pushed the door open. The air inside was thick with the bitter scent of black coffee and the lingering smoke of a Cuban cigar. It felt suffocating.

Ferris picked up a thick bound document and tossed it across the polished wood. It slid rapidly, stopping just inches from the edge of the desk.

He finally raised his eyes. He looked at her as if she were a stain on his rug. "Sign the prenuptial agreement. Don't waste my time."

Adaline walked forward. She picked up the heavy document. She flipped open the first page. The legal jargon was dense, but the core terms were brutally clear.

She had absolutely no right to interfere in his personal life. If they divorced, she would leave with nothing. Zero alimony. Zero assets.

Ferris leaned back in his leather chair. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. He waited for the mask to slip. He waited for the gold digger to throw a tantrum when she realized she wasn't getting a dime of his money.

Adaline didn't blink. She didn't frown. She bypassed the middle pages entirely and flipped straight to the back.

She picked up the heavy Montblanc pen resting on the desk. Without a single second of hesitation, she pressed the nib to the paper and signed her name.

The scratching sound of the pen echoed loudly in the quiet room.

Ferris's eyes narrowed. A flash of genuine surprise crossed his face, but he quickly buried it under a layer of cynicism.

"You really are desperate to latch onto the Finch name," Ferris sneered. "Playing the long game. Impressive acting."

Adaline put the pen down. She ignored his insult. She placed both hands flat on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. She looked straight into his cold eyes.

She swallowed her pride. It tasted like ash. "I signed it. Now, please. I need you to use your network to find a matching bone marrow donor for my mother."

Ferris's expression darkened instantly. The temperature in the room plummeted. To him, this was the real shakedown. This was the greed he had been waiting for.

He stood up abruptly. He planted his hands on the desk, leaning in to match her posture. His massive frame cast a shadow over her.

"The Finch family is not a charity," Ferris said, his voice a lethal rumble. "You get the basic medical bills paid. That was the deal. Nothing more."

Panic seized Adaline's throat. "She doesn't have time! The basic treatment isn't enough. If you just make a few calls-I'll do anything you want."

Ferris caught the word "anything." His eyes dropped to her body, scanning the oversized clothes that hid the bruises he had seen earlier. A cruel, mocking sound left his throat.

"Your used body holds zero appeal to me," Ferris said, his words dripping with malice. "Keep your cheap tricks to yourself."

The words acted like a physical knife plunging into her chest. All the blood drained from Adaline's face, leaving her chalk-white.

She bit down on her lower lip. Hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. She forced her eyes to stay wide open, refusing to let the tears fall in front of him.

Ferris watched her jaw clench. A strange, irritating tightness gripped his own chest, but he ignored it.

"We register at City Hall in three days," Ferris stated coldly. He pressed a button on his intercom. "Alistair. Escort her back to the guest wing. She is not permitted in the master wing."

Alistair appeared in the doorway immediately. He gestured for her to leave.

Adaline turned around. She walked out of the study like a ghost.

The heavy door clicked shut behind her, severing her last lifeline.

She made it back to the freezing guest room. The moment the door closed, her legs gave out. She slid down the wooden panels until she hit the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms.

She stared at the intricate patterns on the Persian rug. The despair in her eyes slowly hardened into a cold, unbreakable ice. She was entirely alone in this house. She had to save her mother herself.

The morning sun sliced through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, hitting Adaline directly in the eyes.

She groaned, her body aching. She had fallen asleep on the floor. She pushed herself up, her muscles stiff and protesting. She walked into the bathroom, washed her face, and changed back into the dried, wrinkled clothes from yesterday. She needed to get to the hospital.

Downstairs, the atmosphere in the study was volatile.

Ferris stood by the window, looking out at the manicured lawns. His assistant, Alex, stood by the desk, holding a sleek tablet.

"Sir, the background check on Miss Bennett is complete," Alex reported. "She was engaged to Baker Padilla until yesterday."

Ferris turned around. A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes. "Engaged. So she's not just a gold digger, she's a cheating liar." He slammed his hand against the windowsill.

Alex adjusted his glasses. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag. He placed it carefully on the desk.

Inside the bag was a crumpled, expensive men's dress shirt.

"The hotel cleaning staff found this kicked under the bed in Suite 801 at the Waldorf," Alex said quietly. "It is a custom piece, but the designer tags were forcefully removed. Our analysts traced the fabric weave to a boutique in Manhattan. Sir, this wasn't left by a corporate spy or a hired escort. It's a high-end gift."

Ferris froze. He stared at the shirt in the plastic bag.

His mind violently snapped back to the pitch-black hotel room. He remembered the desperate, terrified thrashing of the woman beneath him. He remembered the hot tears falling onto his hands.

A horrifying realization crashed into his brain.

The woman in the room wasn't an operative sent by his rivals to ruin him. She was an innocent woman. She had brought a gift for someone else. She had simply walked into the wrong room. His room.

And he had destroyed her.

A wave of nausea hit Ferris so hard he gripped the edge of the desk to stay upright. His chest tightened painfully. His breathing turned shallow.

"Find her," Ferris ordered, his voice ragged and hoarse. "Pull every camera. Use every contact. I don't care what it costs. Find the woman who owns that shirt. I will give her half my empire to compensate for what I did. And Alex? Keep a close eye on Miss Bennett's movements. Track her phone. I want to know exactly what kind of mess I'm marrying into."

Out in the hallway, Adaline had just reached the bottom of the stairs. She was walking past the slightly open door of the study.

Her footsteps halted.

She heard Ferris's voice, loud and desperate. Find her. Compensate her. Half my empire.

A bitter chill swept through Adaline's veins. She let out a silent, self-deprecating breath. So, the cold, untouchable Ferris Finch had a true love. A woman he was desperately searching for. A woman he was willing to give everything to.

She remembered how he had looked at her with pure disgust last night, refusing to make a single phone call to save her mother. Because his heart and his resources were reserved for someone else.

Ferris heard the floorboard creak. His head snapped toward the door.

He saw Adaline standing there. The intense guilt in his chest instantly vanished, replaced by a flare of defensive anger. He hated being spied on.

He strode to the door and pulled it wide open. He glared down at her.

"Eavesdropping now?" Ferris sneered, adjusting his cufflinks with sharp, jerky movements. "Keep your pathetic little tricks to yourself."

Adaline didn't flinch. She looked up at him, her eyes completely dead. "I have zero interest in your tragic love life, Mr. Finch."

She turned on her heel and walked toward the front door. Her spine was perfectly straight.

Ferris watched her walk away. Her absolute indifference grated against his nerves. He clenched his jaw, his hand balling into a fist against the doorframe.

Adaline walked out the front doors. Alistair offered to have a driver take her, but she ignored him. She pulled out her phone and ordered an Uber.

She climbed into the backseat of the generic sedan. She looked out the window as the estate disappeared behind the iron gates. Ferris Finch was officially an enemy.

Her phone buzzed. A text from the hospital. Her mother was stable, but the lack of a donor was a ticking time bomb.

Adaline gripped her phone tightly. Her knuckles turned white. She was going to find the donor who backed out. She was going to fix this herself.

The Uber merged onto the highway, speeding toward Manhattan.