Dayna POV:

His men, silent and imposing, appeared almost immediately. They grabbed me, their hands firm, unyielding. I struggled, but their strength was overwhelming. A cold dread washed over me. The isolation room.

My mind, already fragile, snapped back to a childhood nightmare. Kidnapped. Blindfolded. Trapped in a dark, suffocating space. The crushing weight of the walls, the desperate scramble for air. Claustrophobia. My greatest fear.

He knew. Brooks knew. I had told him, in one of my endless monologues, about the terrifying experience, the years of therapy, the lingering fear of enclosed spaces. He had held me then, comforting me, promising to always protect me from my demons.

"I will never let anything hurt you again, Dayna," he had whispered, his voice a rare comfort. "Never. You're safe with me."

Lies. All of it. He wasn't protecting me. He was weaponizing my fear. For Everleigh. Always for Everleigh.

I was shoved into the room. It was small, windowless, the air thick and heavy. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud, plunging me into absolute darkness. Panic seized me. My heart hammered against my ribs, my breath caught in my throat. I clawed at the walls, my nails tearing, desperate for an escape. The memories flooded back, suffocating me, drowning me in terror.

I curled into a ball on the floor, my body shaking uncontrollably, every nerve ending screaming in protest. But even in my terror, a stubborn defiance ignited within me. I would not break. Not for him. Not for Everleigh. Not when my sister's memory, her dignity, was at stake. I would endure. I would survive.

Three days and nights blurred into a hellish eternity. My throat was raw from screaming, my body weak from hunger and thirst. I was on the verge of collapse, my mind teetering on the edge of madness.

Then, a cold, disembodied voice echoed through the room. Brooks's voice. "Still stubborn, Dayna?"

I looked up, my eyes, weak from the darkness, straining to see. Tiny pinpricks of light. Cameras. Everywhere. He had been watching me. Watching my terror, my struggle, my complete breakdown. He had seen my claustrophobia, my deepest fear, unfold before his eyes, and he had done nothing. He had revelled in it.

The realization hit me harder than any physical blow. He wasn't just indifferent. He was cruel. He was a monster. The man I had loved, the man I had married, was capable of a calculated malevolence that chilled me to the bone.

A fresh wave of anger, cold and clear, washed over me, eclipsing the fear. I screamed, a primal, guttural sound of pure rage, and then, mercifully, the darkness consumed me.

I woke in a hospital bed, the sterile white walls a stark contrast to the suffocating black of the isolation room. My head throbbed, my body ached, but my mind was clear. On the bedside table, a crisp, white note. Brooks's elegant handwriting.

Everleigh is fine. She's been released. Don't worry. Brooks.

No mention of my condition. No apology. Just a casual update on his precious sister. I ripped the note into tiny pieces, a dry, bitter laugh escaping my lips.

Then, a sudden realization sparked through me. The date. Today was the final day of the cooling-off period. And Everleigh's engagement party, the one that had been called off, was due to be re-announced this evening. A live-streamed charity gala.

I ripped the IV from my arm, the needle tearing a small wound. Ignoring the nurse's frantic cries, I grabbed my clothes and dressed, my movements fueled by a newfound purpose. I needed to get to the civil registry office. And then, I needed to make a very public statement.

The divorce papers were finalized in a blur. The clerk, a kind-faced woman, offered a sympathetic smile. "Are you sure about this, dear?"

"Never been surer," I said, my voice steady.

Just as I stepped out, my phone rang. Brooks.

"Dayna," his voice was annoyingly calm. "I hope you're feeling better. I'm glad you're not doing anything rash."

"Never better, Brooks," I said, a dangerous edge to my voice.

"Good. Look, about tonight's gala. It's important for the family's image, you understand. After everything with Everleigh, we need a united front. So, if you could just... make an appearance, stand by my side. For a little while. Just to reassure everyone that everything is fine."

I almost laughed. He wanted me to be his prop again. His smiling, talking prop. But this time, the words I would speak would not be for him.

"Of course, Brooks," I said, my voice sweet, cloying. "I'd be delighted."

He sounded relieved. "Excellent. I knew you'd understand. I'll see you there." He hung up.

I smiled. A cold, hard smile that didn't reach my eyes. I hailed a cab, not to the gala, but to the airport. I had a different kind of appearance to make.

As I sat in the airport lounge, waiting for my flight to Paris, my phone vibrated. A video call. Brooks. Live-streamed from the gala.

The host, a bubbly socialite, was gushing about the Preston family's resilience. "And here we have the lovely Mrs. Dayna Preston," she chirped, turning the camera towards me. "Looking absolutely radiant! And such a devoted sister-in-law, always supporting Everleigh!"

I looked into the camera, my face calm, my eyes clear. "Yes," I said, my voice resonating with a newfound strength. "Devoted. And I have a special message for Everleigh tonight." I looked directly at the camera, my gaze piercing. "Everleigh, darling, congratulations on your re-engagement. I'm so happy for you. And for Brooks. Because now, you can have him. I've already divorced him. He's all yours."

Dayna POV:

The world, for a split second, went silent. The chat stream on the live feed, usually a chaotic torrent of emojis and comments, froze. Then, like a dam breaking, it exploded. A deluge of shocked exclamations, bewildered questions, and frantic speculation.

The camera, still trained on me, suddenly swung away, frantically searching for Brooks. It found him. His face, usually a mask of calm, was utterly devoid of composure. His jaw was slack, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and dawning horror. The cool, collected tech mogul was gone, replaced by a man whose world had just imploded on live television.

Everleigh, standing beside him, her delicate features contorted in a furious snarl, lunged towards the camera. "You bitch! You ruined everything!" she shrieked, her carefully constructed facade crumbling. "You're just jealous!"

Brooks, still reeling, tried to compose himself, his hand reaching for the camera. "That's not true! Dayna, what are you saying? We're not divorced!" His voice was a desperate, hollow whisper.

I didn't wait. With a click, I ended the call. The feed cut out, leaving him to face the wreckage. My mission was accomplished.

Brooks, I later learned, was left standing alone, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, his carefully constructed image shattered. He managed to pull himself together, addressing the stunned media with a forced calm, denying everything, claiming it was a misunderstanding, a jealous outburst from a troubled wife. But the damage was done. The whispers had turned into a roar.

Everleigh's re-engagement, the one they had tried so hard to salvage, was immediately and irrevocably called off. The Sterling family, furious and humiliated, promptly severed all ties. She was bundled into a car, weeping hysterically, her carefully coiffed hair now a tangled mess.

"She ruined us, Brooks! She ruined everything!" Everleigh wailed, clutching his arm in the back seat. "She's just jealous! She always hated me! She hated that you loved me more! She even hated Ava! She's the one who impersonated Ava, not me! She wanted to destroy her legacy!"

Brooks, his head pounding, felt a surge of unfamiliar irritation. Everleigh's incessant whining, her exaggerated claims, her relentless self-pity. It was grating. A stark contrast to the quiet dignity Dayna had maintained in her final, devastating act.

"Everleigh, enough!" he snapped, his voice sharp.

She flinched, startled by his tone. "Brooks? What's wrong? Why are you shouting at me?"

He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. He had to maintain control. For his sake. For the family's sake. For her sake. "Nothing, Everleigh. Just... calm down."

He compared her frantic, piercing complaints to Dayna's steady, unwavering voice, the one that had just declared their divorce to the world. Dayna, who, even in her anger, had maintained a chilling composure. Everleigh's shrill voice, once a sign of her "fragility" that he felt compelled to protect, now felt like a relentless drill on his eardrums.

He found himself wondering, for the first time, if maybe, just maybe, Everleigh wasn't as delicate as he had always believed. And if maybe, just maybe, Dayna wasn't as dramatic.

He opened the car door. "I need some air. I'm going to the office."

"What? No, Brooks! Don't leave me!" Everleigh cried, clinging to his arm. "You're going to go after her, aren't you? You're going to try and win her back!"

He sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Dayna is your sister-in-law, Everleigh. Or, she was." The past tense tasted bitter on his tongue. "I need to deal with the fallout from this. The company, the family. It's a mess."

"But she's lying!" Everleigh insisted, stomping her foot. "She's always been jealous! She's always wanted to take everything from me!"

He slammed the car door shut, the sound echoing in the silent street. He needed to get away from her. Away from the suffocating demands, the endless drama. He needed to think. He needed to fix this.

He spent the rest of the night at the office, battling the online firestorm, trying to mitigate the damage to his company's reputation. It was a losing battle. The stock market had already reacted, a significant dip reflecting the public's outrage.

Around 3 AM, his assistant, Jenkins, approached him, looking haggard. "Sir, the board is demanding an emergency meeting. Your grandfather is furious. And... the media is having a field day."

Brooks rubbed his temples. "Any word from Dayna?"

Jenkins shook his head. "No, sir. Nothing. Her phone is off. No activity on social media. She's completely vanished."