Evelyn stood on the soaked sidewalk, the rain soaking through her thin coat, and flagged down a ride-share car.

She gave the driver the address for The Plaza Hotel. The car merged into traffic, heading straight toward Central Park.

Walking into the opulent lobby, she bypassed the main desk and used her private, unmonitored credit card to book a suite.

The bellhop carried her black suitcase into the room, gave a polite bow, and quietly backed out of the door.

Evelyn threw the deadbolt and hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the handle.

She kicked off her ruined heels and collapsed face-first onto the massive, soft bed, her muscles screaming in exhaustion.

The stitches on her forehead throbbed with a hot, pulsing pain. She closed her eyes, quickly slipping into a shallow, restless sleep.

She didn't know how much time had passed when a violent, rapid pounding on the door jolted her awake.

Before she could sit up, the muffled sound of a harsh argument bled through the heavy door. "Mr. Finley, you cannot-" a hotel manager pleaded. The electronic lock beeped sharply. The door was shoved open, and Carter Finley stormed into the suite, tossing a master hotel keycard directly at the terrified manager's chest before slamming the door shut.

He brought the freezing dampness of the rain and a suffocating wave of anger with him.

Evelyn shot up from the mattress, her hands instinctively gripping the edge of the duvet.

The loud bang echoed off the high ceilings of the suite.

His eyes were bloodshot. He demanded to know what the hell the papers on his desk meant.

Evelyn let out a dry, humorless laugh. She pointed a shaking finger at the door and told him to get out.

Her dismissal ignited the rage he had been suppressing all night. He crossed the room in three long strides.

He grabbed her wrist, his grip bruising and impossibly strong.

He pushed her backward onto the mattress, his large frame casting a dark shadow that completely engulfed her.

Evelyn inhaled sharply. The distinct, sterile smell of hospital sanitizer clung to his suit jacket. Her stomach violently lurched.

She fought wildly, her fingernails scraping hard across the back of Carter's hand, leaving bright red scratches.

The extreme physical exhaustion and the lingering trauma of the crash suddenly triggered a severe stress response. Her vision blurred.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body trembling uncontrollably as she began to mumble incoherently.

"Don't hurt my mom," she whispered, her voice broken. "Don't take her away."

Carter froze instantly. The muscles in his back went rigid, and his pupils contracted.

The crushing pressure on her wrists vanished. A flash of deep confusion and raw pain crossed his face.

He slowly reached out a trembling hand, his fingers moving toward the white gauze on her forehead.

Just as his fingertips were about to brush her skin, the sharp, customized ringtone of his phone pierced the silence.

It was the specific ringtone he had assigned only to Brianna.

Carter's hand stopped in mid-air. His jaw clenched tight, the muscle ticking under his skin. He pulled the phone from his pocket and answered it.

He lowered his voice, speaking softly into the receiver, promising her he would be right back to the hospital. He turned around and walked out.

The door clicked shut. Evelyn opened her eyes in the pitch-black room, hot tears sliding silently down her temples into her hair.

The harsh morning sunlight pierced through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the suite, burning Evelyn's tired eyes.

She sat up slowly. The vulnerability from the night before was completely gone, replaced by a freezing, hollow calm.

The doorbell rang. A waiter wheeled a silver room service cart into the room, leaving the breakfast spread by the window.

Evelyn had just picked up a cup of black coffee when the suite door was shoved open again.

Carter walked in. He was wearing a brand new, perfectly tailored Tom Ford suit, his face set in hard, unforgiving lines.

He tossed a thick folder onto the dining table. It hit the wood with a heavy thud.

He used his authoritative, boardroom voice, ordering her to end this childish tantrum and move back to the estate immediately.

Evelyn took a slow sip of her coffee. She didn't even blink, completely ignoring his presence.

Her total indifference instantly poured gasoline on the anger Carter had been swallowing all morning.

He stepped up to the table and slammed both of his hands down flat on the surface. The coffee cups rattled violently in their saucers.

A few drops of scalding coffee splashed over the rim, staining the pristine white tablecloth brown.

Carter looked down at her, his voice dripping with cruel mockery as he told her she wouldn't survive a week on the streets without the Finley name.

He viciously reminded her that she was nothing but a decorative vase, kept around solely to appease the board of directors.

He stated, with brutal clarity, that her only real value was to produce an heir for the Finley trust fund.

At the words "breeding tool," Evelyn's knuckles turned stark white around the handle of her mug.

She set the coffee down with deliberate slowness. She stood up, her spine perfectly straight, and stared directly into Carter's icy blue eyes.

She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She simply reached out and picked up the tall glass of ice water from the tray.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she threw the freezing water directly into Carter's face.

The ice water dripped down the bridge of his nose, running off his sharp jawline and soaking into his expensive silk tie.

Carter stood completely paralyzed in shock, his eyes wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Evelyn pulled a linen napkin from the table and elegantly dabbed the moisture from her fingers.

Her voice was absolute ice as she told him that was exactly what she thought of his valuation of her.

She grabbed her handbag off the sofa and turned her back on him, walking straight toward the door.

Carter snapped out of his daze. He lunged forward, his large hand clamping down hard on her upper arm.

Evelyn spun around and delivered a sharp, stinging slap directly to the back of his hand, forcing him to let go. Her bruised arm ached from the sudden exertion, but she didn't show a sliver of weakness.

She pulled the door open and walked out into the carpeted hallway.

Carter stood frozen in the room, staring at the red handprint forming on his skin, his face dark with a terrifying rage.

The elevator doors opened. Evelyn stepped inside, keeping her chin high.

The metal doors slid shut, cutting off Carter's furious, complicated stare.

As the elevator dropped, her stomach left behind in the sudden weightlessness, she pulled out her phone to call her best friend.

Evelyn walked out of the hotel lobby, the cold morning air hitting her face as she navigated the crowded sidewalks of Fifth Avenue.

She pushed open the heavy oak door of an exclusive, underground speakeasy hidden beneath the city streets.

Her best friend and art dealer, Amiya Hunt, was already sitting in a dark leather booth in the corner, waving her over.

Evelyn walked over, dropped her designer bag onto the seat, and collapsed into the booth, her muscles aching.

Amiya signaled the bartender and immediately ordered two strong, dry martinis.

Amiya stared at the white gauze on Evelyn's forehead, her brow furrowing as she asked about the crash and the divorce papers.

Evelyn shook her head, the exhaustion settling deep in her bones. She told Amiya she had signed the papers and walked away with nothing.

Amiya let out a sharp scoff. She unzipped her leather briefcase and pulled out a confidential document stamped with the Penguin Random House logo.

Amiya slid the thick paper across the table, leaning in close and whispering the name "E. A. Nightfall."

The financial statement showed that the latest quarter of overseas royalty payments had successfully cleared into Evelyn's offshore accounts.

Evelyn stared at the massive, seven-figure number printed in black ink. A bitter, mocking smile twisted her lips.

She picked up her martini glass and tipped her head back, swallowing the liquor in one long gulp. The alcohol burned a hot trail down her throat.

The liquor hit her bloodstream fast. The hard edges of the room began to blur, her eyes growing heavy and unfocused.

She ordered three more drinks, downing them back-to-back. The crushing weight on her chest finally shattered under the weight of the alcohol.

She dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. The bright screen hurt her eyes in the dim lighting of the bar.

Her thumb slipped twice before she found the contact saved as "Iceberg" in her phone.

Amiya realized what she was doing and lunged across the table to grab the phone, but the call was already connecting.

Miles away, Carter was sitting at the head of the massive mahogany table in the Finley Group's top-floor boardroom, leading a tense executive meeting.

His phone buzzed against the wood. The screen lit up with Evelyn's name.

Carter's jaw tightened. Wanting to prove his absolute control over his emotions to the room, he picked up the device and pressed it to his ear, explicitly choosing not to use the speakerphone.

The faint, chaotic bass of the speakeasy leaked from the earpiece. Evelyn's drunk, breathy laugh drifted to him, mocking his pathetic display of anger in the hotel room that morning.

She didn't stop there. Through the private line, she loudly insulted his performance in bed, claiming he had severe psychological issues.

She told him, clearly and directly, that he lacked the basic physical capability to satisfy a woman.

The dozen senior executives in the room collectively sucked in a breath, their eyes dropping to their notepads, terrified to even breathe as they watched the blood drain from Carter's face.

His expression became a mask of pure ice, the muscles in his jaw bulging as he ground his teeth together, offering only a freezing, dead silence in response.

He pulled the phone away from his ear to hang up, but Evelyn had already ended the call.

The dial tone beeped loudly in his hand. Carter slammed the device down onto the table so hard the glass screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks.

Back in the bar, Evelyn tossed her phone onto the table. She buried her face in her arms and laughed hysterically, while hot tears soaked into her sleeves.