The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Unless.

Hank stared at the shattered glass at his feet, his brain struggling to catch up with the sudden violence of the room. He looked at the phone again, the evidence of his betrayal glowing on the screen. The color drained from his face, leaving him looking sickly and grey.

"Annette, baby," he stammered, stepping over the glass, his hands raised in a pathetic gesture of surrender. "It… it was a moment of weakness. It meant nothing. She means nothing."

From the hallway, Elena let out a small, wounded sound, but no one looked at her.

"She seduced him!" Bernadine interjected, stepping between Hank and Edward, her maternal instinct kicking in to protect her investment. "It's that Vance girl's fault. She's been throwing herself at him for months. Hank is a man, Edward. You know how it is."

Annette didn't even look at them. She kept her gaze fixed on Edward. "My brother is drafting a press release as we speak," she lied, her voice smooth as silk.

Lucas didn't miss a beat. He pulled out his phone and started tapping furiously. "Adams Corp pulls funding. Effective immediately. We'll cite 'moral turpitude' in the filing."

"No!" Hank shouted, panic finally piercing his drunken haze. "My Senate campaign! I need that war chest! The primaries are in three months!"

"You should have thought of that before you unzipped your pants," Lucas muttered, not looking up from his screen.

Bernadine turned on Annette, her eyes flashing with venom. "You're being hysterical, Annette. Look at you. Every powerful man slips up. It's part of the burden. You think you're the first woman to be cheated on? Grow up."

Annette's lips curled into a faint smile. "Is that what you told yourself when Edward had his affairs with his secretaries? Is that how you justified climbing into his bed while his first wife was dying?"

The room went deathly silent.

Edward stiffened. Bernadine's mouth opened and closed like a fish. That was a rumor, a dark whisper in D.C. circles, but no one had ever dared to say it to her face.

"That's enough," Edward growled, glaring at Bernadine to silence her. He turned to Annette. "What do you want, Annette? You said 'unless'."

Annette walked around the desk. She picked up a piece of paper-a blank notepad from the desk-and a pen.

"First," she said, "Elena Vance signs a Non-Disclosure Agreement. A strict one. If she breathes a word about us, about this night, about Hank, she gets sued for every penny she will ever earn."

"And," Annette continued, her eyes sliding to the doorway where Elena was shivering, "She leaves D.C. Tonight."

"Leaves?" Hank blinked. "Where? She lives here."

"Not anymore," Annette said. "I want her in a remote aid program. I want her volunteering somewhere far away. Somewhere dusty, with no cell service. Maybe one of those war-torn places you see on the news?"

"Exile," Hank whispered. "You can't do that. She's... she's a person."

"She mocked my family," Lucas said, stepping forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "She called us a cash cow. She stays, we walk. And we take the money with us."

Edward looked at Hank. "Sign the NDA," he barked at Elena. "Or I disown you, Hank. I swear to God, I will cut you off without a dime."

Hank looked at Bernadine for help. Bernadine looked away, her mind already calculating the losses. She offered no defense.

Hank looked back at Elena. His ambition warred with his lust, and ambition won in a heartbeat. He looked down. "I'm sorry, Elena."

Elena let out a sob and turned to run, but Lucas's bodyguard blocked her path.

"Not until she signs," Annette said coldly.

"You're cruel," Hank whispered, looking at Annette with a mixture of fear and confusion. "Who are you? You're not the Annette I know."

"I'm the woman holding your checkbook," Annette replied. "And I'm just getting started."

She turned to Edward. "Call your lawyer. We need to formalize the punishment."

Edward nodded slowly. He pressed a button on the intercom. "Send Mr. Harrison in. Now."

Annette leaned back against the desk, crossing her arms. Her heart was beating calmly, steadily. The grief she had expected to feel for the end of her relationship wasn't there. There was only the thrill of the kill.

The family lawyer, Mr. Harrison, entered the room with the air of a man who was used to cleaning up rich people's messes. He didn't blink at the shattered glass or the sobbing woman in the corner. He simply opened his briefcase.

Annette watched as he drafted the NDA. It was brutal. It stripped Elena of her voice, her location, and her dignity.

Bernadine tried one last time, her voice taking on a wheedling tone. "Annette, darling, let's just... delay the engagement announcement. Say you're sick. We can work this out privately without... drastic measures."

"Delay means cancellation in the eyes of the market," Lucas argued, standing beside Annette like a sentinel. "Stock prices hate uncertainty. We announce tonight, or we announce the split."

Hank, perhaps feeling the sting of his manhood being crushed, suddenly straightened up. "I won't let you ruin Elena's life completely," he said, puffing out his chest. "She signs the NDA, fine. But she stays in D.C. I can't send her away."

He stood between Annette and the door, trying to look imposing.

Annette looked at him, bored. She checked her nails. "So you choose her over the Senate? Over the Bolton legacy?"

Hank hesitated. His eyes darted around the room. "I... I can have both. We can work something out."

"Greedy," Annette muttered.

Lucas slammed his hand on the desk, the sound like a gunshot. "That's it. Deal's off. I'm calling the press." He pulled his phone out again.

"Lucas, wait!" Edward panicked, reaching out. "We can fix this!"

"Your son is a liability," Lucas stated, his finger hovering over the call button. "He's reckless, he's stupid, and he's greedy. Adams Corp doesn't invest in bad assets."

Bernadine glared at Hank, willing him to submit, to just agree to anything to save the money. But Hank remained stubborn, fueled by a misplaced sense of heroism and too much scotch.

Annette checked her watch. "We're wasting time," she said. "The music is stopping soon."

She looked at Edward. "The Adams-Bolton merger is dead."

She turned to leave, placing her hand on the cold brass doorknob.

"Unless..." she said again, louder this time.

The room froze. It was the same word, but the weight was different now. It wasn't a threat; it was an offer.

"Unless what?" Edward asked, desperation leaking into his voice. He looked like a man drowning.

Annette turned back, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the library. Her red lipstick looked almost black in the shadows.

"The merger is between the Adams and Bolton families, right?" she asked innocently. "It's about the alliance. The defense contracts. The political influence."

"Yes," Edward nodded vigorously.

"It's not necessarily between Annette Adams and Hank Bolton," she continued.

Bernadine's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying? There are no other heirs. Hank is the only son."

"Isn't there?" Annette asked.

"The eldest son," Annette said clearly.

Silence.

Hank scoffed, a wet, ugly sound. "Dereck? You mean Dereck? The cripple?"

"He's a Bolton," Annette said. "He has the bloodline. And he's single."

"He's a recluse! He's dying!" Bernadine shouted, her composure cracking. "He hasn't left the West Wing in three years! He's on so many painkillers he probably doesn't know his own name!"

"Perfect," Annette thought.

"I'll take him," she said aloud.

Hank looked at her like she had grown a second head. "You'd rather have a vegetable than me? You'd rather push a wheelchair than be a Senator's wife?"

Annette looked him up and down. "Yes."

Edward stared at her. The gears in his head were turning. Dereck. His discarded son. The one he had written off years ago after the accident. But... he was still a Bolton. If she married Dereck, the Adams money stayed. The merger happened.

"If I marry Dereck," Annette said, "The merger proceeds."

"But," she added, her eyes hardening. "I have conditions."

The silence that followed stretched for an eternity. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, marking the seconds of their indecision.

Edward blinked, rubbing his face with a shaking hand. "Dereck? You want to marry Dereck?"

"He has the name," Annette repeated. "And he won't cheat on me at my own engagement party. He can't even walk to a mistress."

"Annie," Lucas whispered, touching her arm. "He's... unwell. Seriously unwell. You'd be a nurse, not a wife."

Annette squeezed Lucas's hand. "I know what I'm doing, Luke. Trust me."

Bernadine realized the danger immediately. If Dereck married an Adams, he would have backing. Powerful backing. "It's impossible," she argued, her voice shrill. "Dereck is unfit for public life. He can't attend galas. He can't campaign. He's useless to the family image."

"I don't need him for public life. I need the alliance," Annette countered. "I can handle the public. I can handle the image."

Edward looked at Bernadine, then at the shattered glass, then at Hank. He saw the ruin of his plans in Hank's weak face. He saw salvation in Annette's cold offer.

"If I marry Dereck," Annette said, stepping closer to the desk, "I want the primary Family Trust transferred to him. Immediately."

"What?!" Hank screamed. "That's my trust! That's my inheritance!"

"It was yours," Edward snapped at him. "Before you threw it away for a quick lay."

"And full voting rights in Bolton Industries," Annette demanded.

Bernadine turned pale. "You're giving power to a ghost. To a man who is practically dead."

Annette kept her face neutral. She was counting on that perception. She wanted them to think she was grabbing power through a puppet. "Dereck won't use them," she said dismissively. "He's too sick, right? So I will manage his interests. As his wife."

Edward weighed the options. Ruin vs. Dereck. Bankruptcy vs. A puppet marriage.

"Done," Edward said gruffly.

"Dad!" Hank looked at his father in betrayal. "You can't do this!"

"You made your bed, Hank," Edward said coldly. "Now sleep in it. Alone."

Lucas was stunned. He looked at his sister with new eyes. This wasn't the romantic girl he knew. This was a strategist. "We need the papers drawn up," he said, recovering his lawyer composure. "Tonight."

Annette smiled at Bernadine. It was a sharp, dangerous smile. "Looks like we're still family, Bernie."

Bernadine's eyes burned with hatred. She gripped the back of the chair until her knuckles were white. She had spent years sidelining Dereck, waiting for him to die. Now, in one night, this girl had brought him back into the center of power.

"Does Dereck get a say?" Lucas asked, the voice of reason.

"I'll handle him," Edward said dismissively. "He lives under my roof. He does what I say."

Annette nodded. "I'll handle him," she thought. She imagined the pale, frail man from her memories. The one who supposedly died of an overdose a year from now in her past life. I'll keep him comfortable, she told herself. It's a mercy.

"Get the papers," Annette said to the lawyer. "And Edward... go get the groom."