Aubrey Burris POV:

Cooper' s eyes, cold and unwavering, fixed on my face. "Did you tell Jonna to confront us at the airport?" he demanded. His voice was low. Dangerous.

A shiver ran down my spine. The air in the room grew heavy. "No," I said. My voice barely a whisper. My heart was a stone in my chest. "I told her to go home."

"Then why did she show up? Why did she make a scene?" He took a step closer. His presence felt menacing. "And now her private photos are online. I told you, Aubrey. Mess with me, and I'll make sure you regret it."

My hands clenched at my sides. My fingernails digging into my palms. I felt a cold dread spread through my body. He wasn't just threatening Jonna. He was threatening me. And he had followed through on his threat to Jonna.

"She was upset," I explained. My voice tight with unshed tears. "She cares about me. She saw you and Kennedy. She reacted." I swallowed hard. "It's my fault. She was defending me."

Cooper' s expression softened. Just a fraction. "I understand she was defending you. But she went too far. I had to protect Kennedy's reputation." He paused. His gaze flickering to Kennedy. Who stood quietly beside him. Her eyes wide and innocent. "The photos will be taken down. I've already instructed my team. But Jonna needs to learn her lesson."

"Her lesson?" I repeated. Disbelief coloring my voice. "You humiliated her. You exposed her most private moments. All because she spoke the truth!"

"The truth, Aubrey, is often inconvenient," Cooper snapped. The softness vanished. "And sometimes, inconveniences need to be handled. Now, about your little friend's photos. They will disappear. But only if you cooperate." His gaze held mine. An unspoken threat hung in the air.

Kennedy stepped forward. Her hand gently touching Cooper' s arm. "Cooper, darling, don't be too hard on Aubrey. She's clearly distressed." Her voice was a sugary facade. But her eyes, they gleamed with triumph. "It's all so messy. But I'm sure Aubrey understands."

Aubrey understands. The words were a fresh wound.

"I need a divorce, Cooper," I blurted out. The words felt foreign. Yet liberating.

Kennedy' s eyes widened. A slow smile spread across her face. "Oh, Aubrey! Really? That's… wonderful news!" Her false shock was replaced by unbridled glee. "Cooper, darling! This is it! Our chance!" She turned to him. Her eyes shining with a dangerous ambition. "The Olsen family mentioned it. They said if you were free, truly free, we could move forward with the… formal introductions. With them."

My blood ran cold. The Olsen family. My family. The family he was grooming Kennedy to impersonate.

Cooper looked at Kennedy. A flicker of something complicated in his eyes. Not love. Something darker. Possession. "Kennedy, not now."

"But darling, it's perfect! Aubrey wants out. You're free! We can finally make our arrangement official!" Kennedy insisted. Her voice rising with excitement.

Arrangement. The word hung in the air. Like a shroud.

"Arrangement?" I echoed. My voice barely audible.

Cooper turned to me. His face a mask of cold resolve. "Yes, Aubrey. An arrangement. Kennedy and I have a future together. A destiny. One that needed you out of the way. I proposed to you because you were a threat. You knew about Kennedy's plagiarism. You could have ruined everything." He paused. His eyes piercing mine. "And now that threat is gone. So yes, Kennedy is right. This is perfect. We can finally proceed with securing her rightful place."

Rightful place. My breath hitched. He was talking about my rightful place.

I remembered what Ms. Thorne had said. Renounced his citizenship… French marriage to heiress Kennedy Patel. He was already gone. Already married. Our marriage, my love, was nothing but a convenience. A smokescreen for his twisted loyalty to Kennedy.

And our anniversary. He hadn't just forgotten it. He had desecrated it. Made it the day he officially declared his true allegiance. To her.

I felt a sudden, desperate urge to flee. Away from him. Away from her. Away from this house. This nightmare. I turned to walk away. My legs felt like lead.

"Aubrey." Cooper' s voice stopped me. It was low. Warning. "Don't think this changes anything. You're still under my roof. You're still my wife. Until I decide otherwise."

I turned back slowly. My eyes met his. A cold fury now simmered beneath my despair.

"Don't try to get clever, Aubrey," he continued. Stepping closer. His voice a menacing whisper. "Don't try to take me to court. Don't try to make a scene. You saw what happened to Jonna. Imagine what I could do to you. To your career. To your reputation." He paused. A chilling smile touching his lips. "You exist because I allow it. Understand?"

His words. They weren't just a threat. They were a declaration of ownership. He saw me as a possession. A puppet. To be controlled. Humiliated.

A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest. My lungs constricted. It felt like I was drowning. My head throbbed. The room spun. The image of Cooper and Kennedy, standing together, blurred into an indistinguishable mass of malice.

I stumbled back. Unable to meet his gaze. I retreated. Up the stairs. Into the empty shell of my bedroom. The door closed softly behind me. A fragile barrier against the storm.

My phone buzzed again. Jonna. "Aubrey? Are you okay? I'm so scared. Are you safe?"

Tears, hot and stinging, finally breached my eyelids. They streamed down my face. Silent. Relentless. I sank to the floor. My back against the cold wall. My body shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't answer Jonna. Not yet.

The pain was suffocating. But beneath it, a sliver of clarity. A cold, hard resolve. This brokenness. This humiliation. It was the catalyst. It was the fire that would forge something new. The divorce. The escape. It would happen. No matter the cost.

I must have drifted into a fitful slumber. Half-dreaming, half-conscious. I felt a presence beside me. A hand gently stroking my hair. A warm breath on my cheek. Cooper. His presence. His scent. The ghost of a comfort I once knew. My heart, against my will, fluttered with a desperate hope. A longing for the man I thought I married.

Then, a harsh whisper in my mind. He doesn't love you. He never did. It's a trick. A manipulation.

I jolted awake. The room was empty. The bed untouched beside me. The hand, the warmth, the breath-all an illusion. A cruel trick of my exhausted mind. The heavy duvet lay half-collapsed on the floor. He must have used it last night. After he came home. Without me.

I glanced at my phone. The battery was dead. Of course. Another subtle form of control. He had probably removed the charger while I was asleep. Or perhaps it was dead from the notifications. I crawled to the bedside table. Plugging it in. As the screen flickered to life, I quickly checked Jonna' s pictures. They were gone. All traces wiped clean from the internet. He kept his word, in his own twisted way. For now.

I went downstairs. Cooper and Kennedy were already in the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and gourmet pastries filled the air. Cooper, dressed in a crisp suit, was stirring cream into Kennedy' s coffee. His back to me. She was perched on a stool at the island. Wearing a silk nightgown that was definitely not mine. Her hair, perfectly styled, cascaded over her shoulders.

"Cooper, darling," Kennedy said. Her voice a purr. "This is simply divine. You always know how to make my mornings perfect."

He turned. A soft smile on his face. "Only the best for you, my love." His eyes met mine briefly. Then slid away. As if I were invisible.

"Aubrey, joining us?" Kennedy asked. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. They held a glint of malice.

"I think I'll just have water," I replied. My voice tight. I couldn' t stomach anything. Not after seeing them.

"Oh, come on, Aubrey," Kennedy cajoled. Her tone condescending. "Cooper went to so much trouble. He even bought those special French croissants you like."

My favorite croissants. He used to buy them for me every Sunday. Now they were part of her morning ritual. A fresh wave of nausea washed over me.

"I'm not hungry," I said. Turning to leave.

"Aubrey, wait," Cooper said. His voice sharper now. "We have something important to discuss. Kennedy's arrival. Her future here. You need to be aware of the arrangements."

Arrangements. Again.

"There's nothing to discuss, Cooper," I said. My voice flat. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Kennedy gasped. A theatrical hand flying to her mouth. "But… where would you go, darling? You have no money. Your credit cards are canceled. And your career… well, let's just say it's been difficult for you lately. Hasn't it?" Her eyes glinted. "Unless… you're thinking of running to your little Olsen family, perhaps?"

My head snapped up. How did she know? How did she know about the Olsen family? My phone, the email, my secret contact…

Cooper' s face hardened. He slammed his hand on the marble counter. The sound cracked through the quiet kitchen. "Kennedy! That's enough!" He turned to me. His eyes blazing. "Aubrey, you will not leave. Not yet. You will stay here. And you will make Kennedy feel welcome." His voice was iron. "You will prepare this house for her. Every detail. Just as she likes it. This is your penance."

His words hit me like a physical blow. He wasn' t just controlling me. He was demanding I participate in my own humiliation. My own erasure.

A sudden, sharp ring cut through the tense silence. My phone. I glanced at the screen. Ms. Thorne. My lawyer.

Cooper' s eyes narrowed. "Who is that?" he demanded. His voice laced with suspicion.

I ignored him. My finger hovering over the answer button.

"Aubrey! Who is calling you?" His voice rose. A dangerous edge to it. He lunged for my phone.

I pulled back. Just as his hand reached mine. He grabbed my arm. Tightly. His fingers digging into my flesh. "Let go!" I cried. The phone slipped from my grasp. Clattering to the pristine marble floor. The screen cracked. A spiderweb of fractures.

The call connected. On speaker.

"Ms. Burris? I have an urgent update regarding Mr. Mcknight. And a rather… disturbing discovery about Miss Patel." Ms. Thorne's calm, professional voice filled the room.

Cooper froze. His grip on my arm loosened. His eyes darted between the broken phone and my face. A look of dawning horror.

"What?" Kennedy suddenly shrieked. Her composure shattering. "What is she talking about? Cooper, what did you do?"

Cooper released my arm. He stared at the shattered screen. His face pale. My arm throbbed. A red mark already forming on my skin. He had hurt me. Again.

"Ms. Burris, are you there?" Ms. Thorne's voice was insistent.

"Yes," I managed. My voice trembling. My eyes met Cooper' s. His face was a mask of fear. And rage. "I'm here."

"Good," Ms. Thorne continued. Oblivious to the chaos she had unleashed. "I have confirmation, Ms. Burris. Cooper Mcknight did indeed renounce his US citizenship. And he is already legally married to Kennedy Patel. In France. They have been for six months."

The words hung in the air. A death knell for everything I had ever believed.

Kennedy gasped. Her hand flying to her mouth. Not in shock. But in pure, unadulterated terror.

Cooper turned to me. His eyes wide. Unblinking. "Aubrey…" he whispered. His voice hoarse.

I stared at him. The cold realization finally settling in. He had never loved me. Not one moment. I was just a convenient lie. The pain was unbearable. Yet I felt strangely detached. As if I were watching a play unfold.

"And one more thing, Ms. Burris," Ms. Thorne's voice said. Clear and unwavering from the broken phone. "The DNA sample Mr. Mcknight provided? It was definitively not his own. And the Olsen family… they've been searching for their lost heiress for decades. They call her by a specific name. It's… quite unusual. Are you ready for this?"

My eyes, still locked with Cooper's, narrowed. The rage solidified. "Yes," I said. My voice a low, steady hum. "I'm ready."

Aubrey Burris POV:

"The Olsen family has been searching for their lost heiress for decades," Ms. Thorne's voice echoed from the cracked phone screen. "They call her… Aubrey Olsen."

The name hit me like a lightning bolt. Aubrey Olsen. My name. Not just my first name. But the surname of the media-shy, powerful family I had only dreamed of working with. My stomach twisted. It felt like I' d just been punched.

Cooper stood frozen. His face ashen. Kennedy shrieked. A high-pitched, panicked sound that pierced the stunned silence of the kitchen. She lunged for the phone. "No! That's a lie! It's mine!"

She grabbed the phone. Her fingers clamped down. I snatched it back. Her grip was surprisingly strong. Too strong. The phone, already cracked, slipped from my fingers again. This time it hit the hard tile. Shards of glass exploded. The screen went dark. Dead.

The room spun. The air felt thick. Suffocating. My body began to shake uncontrollably. My knees buckled. I sank to the cold floor. The cold, hard reality of Ms. Thorne' s words crashed over me. Not just a stolen design. Not just a false marriage. But my entire identity. My birthright. Stolen.

He married me. Not to prevent me from exposing Kennedy. But to get a DNA sample. My DNA. To help her claim my inheritance. My lineage. He had played me for a fool. A pawn in his twisted game of ambition and obsession. Every tender word. Every shared dream. Every single moment of our supposed love. It was all a carefully constructed lie. A means to an end.

The humiliation was unbearable. It pulsed through every nerve ending. A raw, burning pain. I felt hollowed out. A marionette with its strings cut. My purpose. My existence. All tied to a man who saw me as nothing more than a tool.

I remembered the gentle caress of his hand on my cheek. "My clever Aubrey," he' d said, his eyes full of what I thought was adoration. "So perceptive. So talented." He was grooming me. Praising the very qualities he intended to exploit.

The tears came then. Hot and stinging. But they weren't for him. They weren't for the broken marriage. They were for the innocent, naive woman I had been. The woman who had believed in love. In truth. In him. That woman was dead. Buried under layers of deceit and betrayal.

I felt numb. Nothing mattered anymore. My hope. My dreams. My future. All of it felt like dust.

Later that evening, after the shock had worn to a dull ache, I found myself scrolling through social media. A morbid curiosity. Or perhaps a desperate need for more pain.

Cooper had posted a picture. A smiling Kennedy. Her arm linked through his. A huge diamond ring glittered on her finger. My ring. The one he' d given me. "Celebrating our new beginnings," the caption read. "So proud of my brilliant fiancé, Kennedy Patel, the future of the Olsen Corporation. Soon to be Kennedy Mcknight-Olsen."

The Mcknight-Olsen. He was already planning it. My name. My lineage. Attached to hers. Publicly. My vision blurred again. My stomach churned. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. He was flaunting his betrayal. His theft. For the world to see.

I closed my eyes. A cold, hard laugh escaped my lips. This was a public execution. A carefully orchestrated spectacle of my downfall. And I was the star.

A sudden crash from downstairs. The front door. Slammed open. My eyes snapped open. Adrenaline surged through me. Cooper. He was back. And he sounded furious.

"Aubrey!" His voice, raw with rage, bellowed from the living room. "Where are you?!"

I scrambled to my feet. Every instinct screamed at me to run. But where? I was trapped. In my own home. My supposed sanctuary.

He burst into the bedroom. His eyes, usually a calm blue, were now dark, stormy pools of fury. He saw me. Standing by the window. My shattered phone still clutched in my hand.

"You called your lawyer? You tried to expose us?" His voice was low, trembling with suppressed violence. He stalked towards me. Each step heavy. Menacing.

"You already exposed everything, Cooper," I said. My voice flat. Lifeless. "With your lies. Your other marriage. Your… scheme."

He reached me. His hand shot out. Grabbing my wrist. Tight. So tight it hurt. "Don't you dare speak like that to me!" he hissed. His face inches from mine. His breath, smelling of whiskey, hot against my cheek.

"Let go, Cooper!" I cried. I struggled against his grip. The memory of my bruised arm from the morning flashed in my mind.

He didn't. He tightened his hold. His other hand gripping my jaw. Forcing my head up. His eyes bored into mine. No longer the man I married. This was a stranger. A predator.

"You think you can just walk away? You think you can expose me? Ruin everything I've built with Kennedy?" He snarled. His grip unrelenting. "You belong to me, Aubrey. You always have."

My mind recoiled. Belong to him? I was not a possession. I was not a thing. But his strength was overwhelming. My struggles were futile. My body felt weak. Broken.

He dragged me from the room. Down the stairs. My feet barely touching the ground. My heart pounded against my ribs. A frantic drumbeat of terror.

"Where are we going?" I gasped. My voice strained.

He didn't answer. He just pulled me along. His grip like iron bands around my wrists. I stopped fighting. My body went limp. I let him drag me. My eyes unfocused. My mind retreating to a safe, numb place.

He opened the passenger door of his sleek black car. Shoved me inside. The leather seats felt cold against my skin. He buckled me in. Then tied my hands together with a silk scarf. One of mine. My own scarf. The irony was a cruel whisper in my mind.

He got into the driver' s seat. Started the engine. The powerful hum vibrated through the car. He glanced at me. His eyes still burning with anger.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Aubrey?" he growled. "You look like you hate me."

My gaze remained blank. Fixed on the road ahead. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. I wouldn't give him an inch.

"Aren't you even going to say anything?" he pressed. His voice laced with frustration. "You're usually so quick with your words. Your clever retorts."

My internal monologue was a torrent of contempt. You want words, Cooper? How about 'betrayal,' 'deceit,' 'fraud,' 'monster'? But I kept my lips sealed. My face impassive.

He sighed. A long, exasperated sound. "Fine. Be that way." He drove in silence for a while. The city lights blurred past. My mind was reeling. What was he doing? Where was he taking me?

The car pulled up to a familiar, yet strangely altered, building. A high-end clinic. A discreet, anonymous facade. My blood ran cold. The kind of place for… procedures. For things that needed to be kept secret.

He turned to me. His face softened. A saccharine sweetness that made my skin crawl. "Aubrey, my love," he murmured. His hand reaching out. To stroke my hair. I flinched away. "Don't be afraid. This is for your own good. For our good. We just need to… clarify a few things."

He got out of the car. Opened my door. Untied my hands. But his grip was still firm on my arm. He led me inside. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. My heart hammered against my ribs. A frantic bird trapped in a cage.

A doctor, a stern-faced woman in a white coat, greeted Cooper with a nod. "Mr. Mcknight. She's ready."

"Good," Cooper said. His voice calm. Too calm. "Aubrey, this is Dr. Elena. She's going to help us. Just a small… procedure. To ensure Kennedy's treatment is successful."

My mind raced. Kennedy's treatment? What treatment? A terrifying thought sparked. Was he… was he trying to incapacitate me? To make me compliant?

"No," I whispered. My voice shaking. I tried to pull away. "Cooper, what are you doing? Let me go!"

His grip tightened. His eyes, usually so calculating, now held a strange, desperate gleam. "Aubrey, don't make this difficult. It has to be this way. For Kennedy. For our future."

"Your future? With my family's name? My inheritance?" My voice rose. A desperate plea.

His jaw clenched. "Don't you understand, Aubrey? Kennedy is fragile. She needs this. She needs us." His gaze was intense. Fanatical. "She lost so much because of me. This is how I fix it. This is how I make her whole again."

He pushed me gently towards the doctor. Towards a stainless steel table. My body felt heavy. My resolve, once so fierce, was crumbling under the weight of his obsession.

I remembered his words from the love letters. You are the architecture of my soul, Kennedy. He wasn't just building her a life; he was tearing mine down to do it.

My mind, once so sharp, felt dull. The images flashed past. Our wedding day. His smile. My vows. All lies. The woman I was had loved him. Desperately. Blindly. That woman was gone now. Replaced by a hollow shell. A vessel of pain.

What more could he take? What more could he do? I closed my eyes. Bracing myself for the next blow. The next humiliation. The next erasure.

I knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was just the beginning of his cruel game.

Aubrey Burris POV:

The bright lights of the gala hall burned into my eyes. Every flash of a camera felt like a physical assault. My head throbbed. The world spun in a haze. But I kept my teeth clenched. My spine rigid. Cooper' s hand, a suffocating weight, rested on the small of my back. Forcing me forward.

"Smile, Aubrey," he murmured, his voice a silken threat against my ear. "You're a Mcknight. You have a reputation to uphold."

My body moved on its own. A puppet on his strings. Dressed in a shimmering gown I didn't choose. My hair styled into an intricate updo I didn't want. The perfect trophy wife.

Across the room, Kennedy sparkled. Her dress was designer. Her smile, brilliant and predatory. She moved through the crowd like a queen. Surrounded by fawning journalists and industry titans. She caught my eye. A flicker of triumph. A smug, knowing smirk. She was here. Present. Undeniably real. While I felt like a ghost.

A hush fell over the room. Cooper stepped forward. Clearing his throat. He tapped a microphone. The clink echoed through the opulent hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. His voice smooth. Confident. "Tonight marks a new chapter. For my company. For our future. And for my family."

He paused. His gaze sweeping over the crowd. Then, briefly, to me. My heart hammered. What new humiliation awaited me?

"You may have noticed," he continued, a subtle smirk playing on his lips, "a certain… mark on my beautiful wife, Aubrey." He gestured vaguely towards my neck. My hand instinctively flew up. Covering the angry red hickey. The one he' d put there last night. With brutal force. After the clinic. A mark of his ownership. A twisted display of dominance.

The cameras flashed. A murmur rippled through the crowd. My cheeks burned. A wave of shame washed over me. He was exposing me. Publicly. For his own twisted narrative.

"Some might speculate," Cooper chuckled. A fake, lighthearted sound. "But let me assure you. It's simply a testament to the… passion we share. A little souvenir from our anniversary celebration." He winked at the crowd. A performance. A grotesque lie.

My stomach churned. A bile taste rising in my throat. I wanted to scream. To tear off the gown. To expose him for the monster he was. But I was trapped. His hand still on my back. His eyes, a silent warning.

"And speaking of new beginnings," Cooper continued, his voice gaining momentum, "tonight, I have the distinct honor of introducing you to the force behind our next groundbreaking venture. The woman who will lead our new architectural innovation division. The visionary. The brilliant mind. The true heiress of the Olsen legacy. Kennedy Patel."

He gestured to Kennedy. She stepped forward. Bathed in the spotlight. Her smile radiant. Her eyes, fixed on him, full of adoration. And triumph.

"Kennedy will be leading our new European branch, focusing on sustainable urban development, in partnership with the Olsen Corporation. A groundbreaking initiative, driven by her unparalleled talent and her unique family heritage." Cooper beamed. Proud. Possessive.

Applause erupted. A thunderous sound that vibrated through my bones. Journalists clamored. Flashes popped. Kennedy revelled in it. She was the star. The darling. The fake heiress. And I was the silent, bruised prop.

A reporter, bold and brash, pushed through the crowd. Thrusting a microphone in my face. "Mrs. Mcknight! About that hickey… is it really from a passionate anniversary? Or is it a cry for help?"

My facade cracked. Just for a second. My eyes met the reporter's. A flicker of raw pain. Fear.

Cooper's arm tightened around my waist. Pulling me closer. "My wife is simply overwhelmed tonight," he said. His voice smooth. Controlled. "She's always been a private person. But yes. It was a very passionate anniversary. And I intend to keep her very, very happy." He squeezed my waist. A warning. A promise.

Then, before the reporter could ask another question, he leaned in. His lips brushing my ear. "Don't disappoint me, Aubrey." His voice was a cold whisper. "Remember Jonna."

The words were a leash around my neck. Pulling me back from the brink. I forced a smile. A brittle, meaningless gesture. My body felt numb. My mind retreated to a safe, dark place. The pain was too much. The humiliation, too profound. I was nothing but a prop. A living, breathing lie.

The media, of course, ate it up. "Cooper Mcknight's passionate display for his wife at the gala!" "Aubrey Mcknight: Bruised but beautiful!" They glorified his possessiveness. Romanticized my pain. It was a sickness.

Later that night, Cooper was at another after-party. Toasting Kennedy' s success. While I sat alone in the opulent suite. He' d left a small, velvet box on the dressing table. Inside, a diamond necklace. A bribe. A peace offering. Another symbol of his control.

"You're a good girl, Aubrey," he' d said earlier, his hand lingering on my cheek. "Cooperate, and you'll want for nothing."

I watched my reflection in the mirror. My eyes, shadowed and haunted, stared back. I wasn't a good girl. I was a prisoner. But the fire was still there. A tiny, flickering ember of defiance. I would not want for nothing. I would want everything he had stolen.

The next day, I met Jonna. She looked fragile. Pale. But her eyes still held that fierce spark. We met at a quiet cafe. Far from prying eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Aubrey," Jonna whispered. Her voice thick with shame. "He threatened me. And then… the photos. Everywhere. I felt so exposed. So violated."

"I know, Jonna," I said. My hand reaching across the table. Gripping hers. "I'm so sorry. I should have protected you better."

"No!" she insisted. "It's not your fault. It's his. He's a monster. And Kennedy… she's a viper." Her eyes narrowed. "But what are you going to do? You can't just let him get away with this."

"I'm not," I said. My voice low. Firm. I looked her directly in the eye. "I'm leaving. Soon. And I'm going to expose everything. The marriage fraud. The identity theft. Everything."

Jonna' s jaw dropped. Her eyes wide with shock. "Aubrey! Are you serious? But… how? He' ll ruin you!"

"He's already tried," I replied. A bitter smile touching my lips. "But he hasn't succeeded. Not yet. I'm taking the job with the Olsen Corporation's European branch. My real family. And I'm going to them with everything."

Jonna stared at me. Then, slowly, a grin spread across her face. A fierce, predatory grin. "My God, Aubrey. You're a genius. A warrior." She squeezed my hand. Hard. "I'm with you. Whatever you need. Whatever it takes."

A wave of profound relief washed over me. Jonna's unwavering loyalty was a lifeline. A beacon in the darkness. Her belief in me was the fuel I needed.

I left Jonna. Feeling a renewed sense of purpose. A cold, hard resolve had settled deep in my core. I went back to the house. To the prison he had built for me. And started to pack the last of my things.

Just as I was about to leave the bedroom, I felt a sharp pain. A sudden jolt. I stumbled. My head hit the door frame. Stars exploded behind my eyes. I sank to the floor. My vision blurred.

Kennedy. She stood there. A wicked smile on her face. A heavy sculpture in her hand. One of the new, minimalist pieces.

"Oops," she cooed. Her voice dripping with fake concern. "So clumsy, Aubrey. Are you alright?"

My head throbbed. Blood trickled down my temple. My vision swam. Kennedy's face, distorted by pain, grinned down at me.

Then, a sudden, horrifying twist. Another figure. A man in a dark suit. He grabbed Kennedy. Shoving her roughly against the wall.

"What the hell was that, Kennedy?!" His voice was low. Furious. It wasn' t Cooper.

"She was trying to hurt me!" Kennedy shrieked. Her voice trembling with fake fear. "She tried to attack me!"

My head was spinning. The man ignored her. He knelt beside me. His face, etched with concern, was a blur.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" he asked. His voice deep. Urgent.

I tried to speak. But only a choked gasp escaped.

Then, I heard Cooper's frantic voice from downstairs. "Kennedy? What's going on up there?"

The man looked up. His eyes, hard and cold, met Kennedy's. She was still pressed against the wall. A look of pure terror on her face.

He pulled out a small device. Spoke rapidly into it. In a language I didn' t understand.

Cooper rushed into the room. His eyes taking in the scene. Me, bleeding on the floor. Kennedy, looking terrified. The strange man.

"What happened?!" Cooper demanded. His eyes fixed on Kennedy. "Are you alright, my love?"

He didn't even look at me. Not once. Not even as I lay there. Bleeding. My heart, what was left of it, solidified into a block of ice. He cared only for her. Always for her.

The man gently helped me to a sitting position. His touch firm but careful. He pulled out a clean handkerchief. Pressed it to my bleeding temple.

The room was a blur of faces. Curious eyes. Whispers. The public. Gathering like vultures. My humiliation was complete.

"I'm fine," I mumbled. My voice weak. "Just clumsy." The words were a bitter lie. But I wouldn' t give him the satisfaction. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Jonna. My best friend. Pushed through the crowd. Her face a mask of horror. "Aubrey! Oh my god!" She rushed to my side. Her arms wrapping around me. Her presence, a warmth in the desolate cold.

"What happened?" Jonna demanded. Her eyes blazing. She glared at Kennedy. Then at Cooper. "Did she do this?"

I shook my head. A silent denial. Not for Cooper. Not for Kennedy. But for myself. I would not allow them to see my pain. Not anymore.

"I need a doctor," I said. My voice stronger now. "Just… take me to a doctor."

Later, back in my bedroom, after the emergency room visit and a few stitches, I found it. His laptop. Open on the nightstand. He must have forgotten it in the chaos. My fingers, still trembling, hovered over the keyboard. A dark curiosity. A desperate need to know.

I clicked on his email. A recent message. From an unknown sender. The subject line read: "Olsen Heiress - Final Details."

My breath hitched. The screen glowed. Revealing the shocking truth.