The heavy bedroom door opened slowly. Scarlett stepped into the room, wearing a pristine, pale pink designer dress.

Scarlett rushed immediately to the side of the bed. Her face was twisted into an exaggerated, theatrical expression of sisterly worry.

She grabbed Cordelia's uninjured right hand. She squeezed it tightly with her perfectly manicured fingers.

Scarlett let out a dramatic, loud gasp upon seeing the thick white bandage wrapped around Cordelia's left wrist.

She leaned down and whispered loudly: "Damien is a cruel monster. He keeps you locked up in this penthouse like a common prisoner."

Cordelia suppressed the intense, violent urge to rip her hand away. She forced her neck to move, offering a weak, pathetic nod.

Scarlett leaned in closer. Her expensive, overpowering floral perfume assaulted Cordelia's senses, making her stomach churn.

Scarlett whispered conspiratorially: "Julian is waiting for you. In a black car. Right outside the building."

Cordelia's heart remained perfectly steady. She feigned a look of desperate, tragic hope, widening her eyes slightly.

Scarlett looked around the massive room. Her eyes darted suspiciously into the corners, checking for visible security cameras.

Satisfied they were alone, she unclasped the gold hardware on her oversized Hermes Birkin bag resting on her lap.

Scarlett reached deep inside the expensive leather bag. Her eyes locked intensely onto Cordelia's pale face.

She pulled out a small, intricately carved silver dagger. It was hidden inside a black velvet pouch.

Scarlett slid the cold metal dagger under the edge of the silk blanket. She pressed the hilt directly against Cordelia's thigh.

She whispered: "Julian sent this. It is the only way to help you escape the monster holding you captive. Use it on Damien tonight. Right when his guard is down. When he is sleeping."

Cordelia stared down at the silver hilt peeking out from the fabric. She remembered this exact, horrifying moment from her past life.

In the past, she had taken the weapon. She had actually tried to stab Damien with it, breaking his heart completely.

Cordelia slowly raised her eyes. She met Scarlett's eager, malicious gaze head-on.

For a fleeting second, a flicker of something other than fear--something cold and sharp--passed through her eyes before vanishing.

Scarlett blinked rapidly. She looked genuinely confused and unsettled by the sudden, chilling shift in her sister's demeanor.

In the dark adjoining study, Damien stood completely frozen. He peered through the slightly open connecting door.

His sharp eyes locked onto the glint of the silver dagger partially hidden under the blanket.

A massive wave of profound betrayal and suffocating fury washed over his rigid body. His chest tightened painfully.

He watched Cordelia stare at the weapon. He misinterpreted her silence as active, serious contemplation of his murder.

Damien's large hand hovered over the brass doorknob. He was ready to burst into the room and stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life.

His breathing turned shallow and ragged. His chest ached with actual, physical pain at her perceived betrayal.

He forced his hand to drop. His masochistic side demanded to see if she would actually accept the weapon from Julian.

He tightened his grip on the edge of the doorframe instead. His knuckles popped loudly in the silent study.

Damien's eyes darkened into a pitch-black abyss. He braced his entire body for the ultimate heartbreak.

Cordelia slowly reached her uninjured right hand toward the silver dagger resting on the bed.

Scarlett's eyes lit up with triumphant glee. Her glossy lips curled into a vicious, victorious smirk.

Cordelia's fingers wrapped firmly around the cold silver hilt of the weapon. The metal bit into her palm.

Scarlett leaned back slightly. She opened her mouth, preparing to offer more manipulative words of encouragement.

Suddenly, Cordelia's grip tightened on the hilt. Her knuckles turned stark white with the force of her hold.

With lightning speed, Cordelia lunged forward. She grabbed Scarlett's right wrist with her injured left hand.

Scarlett yelped in genuine surprise. She tried to pull her arm back, but the sudden grip caught her completely off guard.

Cordelia ignored the tearing, burning pain in her bandaged wrist. She held Scarlett in an iron vice grip.

Cordelia forcefully dragged Scarlett's hand over her own. She pressed Scarlett's fingers tightly around the hilt of the dagger.

Before Scarlett could process the movement, Cordelia pulled Scarlett's arm aggressively toward her own body.

Cordelia plunged the sharp tip of the dagger directly into her own left shoulder.

A sharp gasp escaped Cordelia's lips as the cold metal pierced her flesh. The pain was blinding and immediate.

Bright red blood instantly bloomed across the pristine white silk of her nightgown, spreading like a horrific watercolor painting.

Scarlett froze in absolute horror. Her hand was still physically trapped on the dagger's hilt, pushing it into Cordelia's skin.

Cordelia released Scarlett's wrist. She let the other woman's arm drop limply to the mattress.

Cordelia let out a blood-curdling, terrified scream. The sound echoed violently through the massive penthouse.

She screamed: "Scarlett! Please! Don't kill me! Please!"

Scarlett stammered, her eyes wide with panic: "I--I didn't--Cordelia, what are you--"

In the adjoining study, Damien heard the scream. He kicked the connecting door wide open without even touching the knob.

The heavy wood crashed against the wall. The doorframe splintered loudly under the sheer force of his kick.

Damien charged into the bedroom. He moved like a furious, unleashed apex predator defending its mate.

His eyes locked immediately onto the dark blood pouring rapidly from Cordelia's shoulder.

He saw Scarlett standing over the bed. Her hand was hovering mere inches from the dagger embedded in Cordelia's flesh.

A guttural roar of pure, unadulterated rage ripped from Damien's throat: "GET AWAY FROM HER!"

He crossed the massive bedroom in two long strides. He grabbed Scarlett directly by the throat.

He hurled Scarlett backward with terrifying, brutal force. He sent her flying through the air.

Scarlett crashed heavily into a glass side table. The thick glass shattered loudly, raining shards over the carpet.

Scarlett collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, clutching her bruised neck.

Damien dropped heavily to his knees beside the bed. His large hands hovered over Cordelia, trembling violently.

His face was pale with shock. His previous anger was completely replaced by a desperate, suffocating terror.

Cordelia looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. She whispered: "Damien... I was so scared. So scared."

Damien pressed his large, trembling hand directly over the bleeding wound on Cordelia's shoulder.

Warm blood seeped rapidly through his fingers. The red liquid stained his pristine white cuffs, soaking into the expensive fabric.

He roared at the top of his lungs: "Pierce! Call Dr. Evans! Now!" His voice cracked with panic.

Pierce sprinted down the hallway. He dialed the private physician's number frantically on his cell phone.

Damien leaned over Cordelia. He pressed his forehead against hers. He murmured frantic, breathless reassurances against her skin: "You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Just stay with me."

Cordelia winced. The sharp, burning pain in her shoulder radiated down her left arm, making her fingers twitch.

She looked up into Damien's dark eyes. She saw raw, unfiltered terror replacing his usual cold, untouchable detachment.

Damien grabbed the hilt of the silver dagger. He pulled it out in one swift, agonizing motion to prevent internal shifting.

Cordelia cried out. Her back arched completely off the blood-stained mattress.

Damien immediately grabbed a thick white bath towel from the nightstand. He applied extreme, heavy pressure to the open wound.

He cursed himself repeatedly, his voice breaking: "This is my fault. My fault. I let her in. I let that bitch in."

Cordelia weakly reached her right hand up. Her bloody fingertips touched his tense, rigid cheek.

She whispered: "It hurts. It really hurts."

Damien's breath hitched. A solitary tear escaped his dark eyes. It fell silently onto her pale cheek.

The sound of heavy, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway, approaching the master bedroom.

Dr. Evans burst into the room. He carried a large, professional black trauma kit in his hands.

Evans took one look at the massive amount of blood soaking the bed. He immediately ordered: "Step back, Damien. Give me room."

Damien snarled like a protective wolf: "No. I'm not leaving her."

Evans raised his voice: "I cannot save her if you block my access. Move."

Damien's jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked visibly in his cheek. His breathing was heavy and erratic.

He slowly lifted his bloody hands. He retreated exactly one step backward, his entire body coiled tight like a spring.

Evans moved in quickly. He pulled out a penlight, assessing the depth and severity of the stab wound.

Evans pulled out a pair of trauma shears. He began cutting the ruined silk nightgown away from her shoulder.

Damien stepped forward instantly. He glared at Evans' gloved hands touching Cordelia. He emitted a low, dangerous warning growl from the back of his throat.

Evans ignored the death glare. He poured a bottle of sterile saline directly over the open wound to clean out the blood.

Cordelia whimpered loudly. She turned her face away from the stinging, biting pain of the saline wash.

Damien immediately moved to the other side of the bed. He knelt heavily on the floor beside her head.

He grabbed her uninjured right hand. He pressed her knuckles tightly against his lips.

He whispered dark, soothing promises against her skin: "You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine. I promise. I will handle everything. Just hold on."