The private investigator finally lowered his camera. Two of Judith's massive bodyguards stepped forward, grabbing Estrella by the arms and hauling her off the bed.

They threw a heavy trench coat over her shoulders, ignoring her wincing as they dragged her out of the hotel room.

She was shoved into the backseat of a black Cadillac SUV. The doors locked with a heavy click.

The ride to Long Island was suffocatingly silent. Hebert sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. He didn't look back at her once.

When the SUV pulled up to the sprawling Zimmerman estate, the bodyguards dragged her out. They marched her up the grand staircase and shoved her into the guest bedroom at the end of the second-floor hallway.

The heavy door slammed shut. The lock clicked from the outside.

Estrella slid down the solid wood door until she hit the floor. Her body shook violently. The residual drugs and the adrenaline crash made her teeth chatter.

She crawled to the en-suite bathroom and turned on the faucet. She splashed freezing water onto her face, gasping for air.

She looked up at the mirror. Her skin was ghost-pale. Her left cheek was swollen and purple. And there, blooming across her collarbone, were dark, angry bruises. Love bites from a stranger.

Her stomach violently contracted. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and dry-heaved until her throat burned, but nothing came up.

Hours passed. Night fell over the estate. Her throat felt like sandpaper. The extreme thirst finally forced her to stand.

She walked to the bedroom door and rattled the handle. It was locked, but she remembered this was the oldest wing of the house. The wood around the doorframe was warped, and the latch had always been notoriously loose. She leaned her entire body weight against the solid wood, pressing her shoulder near the handle, and gave it three hard, desperate shoves. On the third try, the aged metal mechanism groaned and gave way with a sharp crack.

Estrella pushed the door open. She stepped out into the dark hallway, her bare feet sinking into the thick Persian runner. She made no sound.

She headed toward the stairs to get water from the kitchen. But as she passed the landing, she noticed a sliver of yellow light spilling from the crack beneath Hebert's study door.

She heard his voice. Low, eager, and sickeningly polite.

Estrella pressed her back against the wall and crept closer. She held her breath, pressing her ear near the gap in the doorframe.

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair," Hebert said, the sound of ice clinking against a whiskey glass echoing in the room.

Vincent Sinclair. The senior partner at the Wall Street investment bank where Hebert worked.

"I trust the gift I left in the suite was to your liking?" Hebert asked, letting out a low chuckle.

Estrella's heart stopped beating. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth. Her nails dug so hard into her cheeks that she drew blood.

"Don't worry about her," Hebert continued, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I put a double dose of Rohypnol in her champagne before the driver took her to the hotel. She didn't feel a thing. She won't remember a thing."

The hallway spun. Estrella leaned heavily against the wall to keep from collapsing.

"So, the senior partner nomination," Hebert pressed, his tone shifting to pure greed. "I assume I have your vote at the board meeting this Friday?"

A pause. Then Hebert laughed out loud. "Excellent. A pleasure doing business with you, Vincent."

Hebert hung up the phone. Estrella heard him sigh contentedly, followed by the sound of him pouring another drink.

Five years. She had given him five years of her life. She had raised his son. She had drained her own trust fund to save him from bankruptcy early in their marriage. And he had sold her body to his boss for a promotion.

Estrella took a step back, her chest heaving. Her heel clipped the edge of a heavy bronze vase sitting on a hallway pedestal.

The metal scraped against the wood.

Inside the study, the clinking of ice stopped instantly. Heavy footsteps moved toward the door.

Estrella spun around and sprinted silently down the hall. She slipped into her bedroom and pulled the door shut just as the study door swung open.

She pressed her spine against the wood, holding her breath until her lungs burned. She listened to Hebert's heavy footsteps pause outside her door, linger for a terrifying second, and then walk away.

The fear evaporated, leaving behind something entirely new. A dark, consuming fire ignited in her chest.

She walked to the window and stared out at the manicured lawns of the estate. She wasn't going to just survive this. She was going to burn them all to the ground.

The next evening, the lock on her door clicked open. A maid stood in the hallway, her face completely blank.

"Dinner is served, ma'am," the maid said coldly. She tossed a high-necked, long-sleeved silk dress onto the bed. "Mrs. Zimmerman suggests you cover your... marks."

Estrella stared at the dress. She didn't cry. She stripped off her ruined clothes and pulled the silk over her head. She pinned her hair up tightly, pulling her features into a mask of absolute indifference.

She walked down the grand staircase. The dining room was brightly lit, the long mahogany table covered in expensive French cuisine and crystal champagne flutes.

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses died the second she stepped into the room.

Hebert sat at the head of the table in a tailored suit. He looked at her with a sickeningly benevolent smile.

"Sit down, Estrella," Hebert said, gesturing to the chair furthest from him. "We decided to let you join us tonight. For the sake of appearances."

Estrella pulled out the chair and sat. She didn't touch her napkin. She just stared at the people around the table.

Judith raised her glass, her diamonds catching the chandelier light. "Let us toast to Hebert. His nomination for senior partner is officially secured."

Howard raised his glass in agreement. "To my son. A man who endures personal tragedy with grace and continues to build our legacy."

They were rewriting reality right in front of her. They were turning Hebert into a martyr.

Estrella's fingers gripped the heavy silver fork beside her plate. The metal dug into her skin.

Julian sat next to Hebert, cutting a piece of rare steak. He looked up at Estrella, a nasty grin on his face. He picked up a piece of bloody, fatty meat with his fingers and threw it across the table.

It landed with a wet slap on Estrella's plate. Drops of red juice splattered onto her clean silk dress.

"Eat up," Julian sneered. "Trash deserves trash."

Judith didn't scold him. She covered her mouth and let out a sharp, cruel laugh. "The boy has spirit. He knows how to defend his father."

Hebert cleared his throat softly. "Julian, mind your manners," he said, though his eyes were crinkling with amusement.

Estrella looked at Julian. This was the boy she had stayed awake with for three nights straight when his asthma flared up. This was the boy she had stood in the freezing rain for, waiting to secure an appointment with the best pediatric pulmonologist in New York.

Every ounce of love she had ever felt for this family died right there at the dinner table.

Estrella slowly placed her fork down. The sharp clink of silver against porcelain echoed loudly.

She lifted her chin and met Judith's eyes. Her gaze was so empty, so devoid of human warmth, that Judith's smile faltered.

"What are you glaring at?" Judith snapped, slamming her hand on the table.

Estrella didn't answer. She picked up her water glass, took a slow sip, and set it down.

Then, she laughed. It wasn't a hysterical laugh. It was a soft, dark chuckle that made the hair on the back of Hebert's neck stand up.

"Go back to your room," Hebert ordered, his voice losing its fake gentleness.

Estrella stood up. She picked up her linen napkin and dropped it casually over the bloody piece of meat on her plate.

She looked down the length of the table, her eyes locking onto Hebert's.

"Congratulations on your promotion, my dear husband," Estrella said softly. "I hope it was worth the price."

She turned and walked out of the dining room, her spine perfectly straight, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in her wake.

The morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the dining room. Estrella was already downstairs.

She didn't go to the kitchen to cook. Instead, she sat in the chair directly to the right of the head of the table. She poured herself a cup of black Colombian coffee from the silver carafe and opened the Wall Street Journal.

Julian trudged down the stairs, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He walked into the dining room and stopped.

He stared at the empty table. "Where are my blueberry pancakes?" he demanded, his voice whiny and entitled.

Estrella didn't look up. She turned a page of the newspaper.

Julian's face turned red. He marched over to her and slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the fine china.

"Are you deaf, you stupid bitch?" Julian yelled. "Make my breakfast! You don't get to sit here and do nothing!"

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Judith, wearing a silk robe, walked down, a smug look on her face. She was ready to watch the show.

Encouraged by his grandmother's presence, Julian reached out to grab the plate of scrambled eggs the maid had just set in front of Estrella.

Before his fingers could touch the porcelain, Estrella snapped the newspaper shut.

Her hand shot out, grabbing the handle of the silver carafe. Without a second of hesitation, she flicked her wrist upward.

The scalding hot black coffee splashed directly across Julian's chest, soaking instantly into his pristine white school uniform shirt.

Julian let out a blood-curdling scream. He stumbled backward, clutching his chest, and tripped over his own feet, crashing to the floor.

Judith shrieked. She ran across the room and dropped to her knees beside her grandson, her hands hovering over his red, blistering skin.

The maids in the corner gasped, one of them dropping a tray of silverware with a loud crash. Two of the younger girls exchanged a look of pure terror mixed with undeniable awe at the sudden shift in power, before quickly backing out of the room to avoid the crossfire.

Judith whipped her head around, her face twisted in pure fury. "You psychotic animal! I'll kill you!" She lunged upward, raising her hand to strike Estrella.

Estrella didn't flinch. She picked up her heavy crystal water goblet and smashed it against the edge of the mahogany table.

The glass shattered. Estrella held the jagged, broken stem in her hand, pointing the sharp edges directly at Judith's face.

Judith froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened in terror.

Estrella stood up. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor as she stepped closer to the older woman.

"Scream at me again," Estrella said, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "And the next thing I pour on him will be acid."

Julian stopped wailing. He scrambled backward on the floor, hiding behind Judith's legs, trembling uncontrollably.

Estrella looked down at them, her eyes cold and merciless. "Until the divorce papers are signed, I am the lady of this house. If any of you cross me again, I will drag this entire family to hell with me."

The dining room was dead silent. The only sound was the coffee dripping from the table onto the floor.

Estrella tossed the broken glass onto the table. She grabbed a napkin, wiped her hands, and picked up her Hermes Birkin bag from the chair.

She stepped over the puddle of coffee and walked out the front door, leaving them shaking in her wake.