Daisy's fingers brushed the doorframe.

Behind her, Eryn let out a soft, trembling sob. It sounded weak, but Daisy heard the unmistakable edge of triumph in it.

That sound snapped the last thread of Daisy's control.

She spun around. She ignored Emmett entirely. She marched past him, her wet heels slapping against the floor.

Before anyone could react, Daisy raised her right hand and brought it down hard across Eryn's face.

The slap echoed like a gunshot in the sterile room.

Eryn's head snapped to the side. She screamed, clutching her reddened cheek.

"Daisy!" Emmett yelled.

He lunged forward. His hand shot out and clamped around Daisy's wrist before she could pull her arm back.

His grip was like a steel vise. His long fingers dug brutally into her delicate skin, instantly bruising the flesh.

Daisy gasped in pain. She looked up at him, her eyes blazing with pure hatred. "Asshole," she spat.

Emmett stared at the fury in her eyes. His chest heaved. He looked down at his hand crushing her wrist, and he flinched. He let go instantly, as if her skin had burned him.

The second she was free, Daisy shoved both her hands hard against his chest. She turned and bolted out the door.

She ran down the hallway. Her wet dress slapped against her legs. Her breathing was ragged and loud in her own ears.

"Daisy!" Emmett cursed loudly. He didn't even glance back at Eryn. He sprinted after her.

Daisy reached the elevator bank. The doors of the car she had taken up were just starting to close. She threw herself inside and frantically slammed her palm against the 'Close Door' button.

The metal doors slid together.

Just as they were about to shut, a large, calloused hand shoved through the gap.

Emmett gripped the edge of the door and ripped it open with terrifying strength. He stepped into the elevator, his eyes completely black with rage.

He slammed his fist into the emergency stop button.

The elevator jerked violently and halted between floors. The sudden stop threw Daisy off balance.

She scrambled backward until her spine hit the cold metal wall. There was nowhere left to run.

Emmett stalked toward her. He looked like a predator cornering its prey. He placed both hands flat against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in completely.

"You do not get to say that word to me," he growled, his face inches from hers. "You are not leaving."

Daisy turned her face away. The heat radiating off his body made her skin crawl. "You make me sick," she whispered, her voice dripping with disgust.

The words shattered Emmett's remaining sanity.

He grabbed her chin, his fingers biting into her jaw, and forced her to look at him.

He crashed his mouth down onto hers.

It wasn't a kiss. It was an assault. It was a desperate, punishing attempt to brand her, to force her to submit. His lips were hard and bruising against hers.

A wave of intense humiliation crashed over Daisy. She shoved her hands against his shoulders, hitting him, trying to push his massive weight off her. He didn't budge.

She opened her mouth and bit down hard on his lower lip.

She tasted hot, metallic blood instantly.

Emmett groaned in pain. His grip loosened for a fraction of a second.

Daisy used all her strength to shove him backward. She swung her arm and slapped him across the face as hard as she could.

Emmett's head turned. He stood frozen in the center of the elevator, a drop of dark blood welling on his split lip.

Daisy didn't wait. She hit the emergency release and smashed the lobby button.

The elevator dropped. The doors opened to the ground floor. Daisy sprinted out into the rain, threw herself into her Porsche, and sped away into the dark.

Daisy's hands shook violently against the leather steering wheel. The tires of the Porsche slipped slightly on the rain-slicked asphalt.

She pulled the car over next to a fire hydrant on Fifth Avenue. She threw it into park and collapsed forward, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. She gasped for air, her chest heaving as if she had just run a marathon.

The rain hammered against the roof. She looked up at the rearview mirror. Her mascara was smeared down her pale cheeks. Her hair was a tangled, wet mess. She looked like a ghost.

She reached into her soaked purse and pulled out her phone. She opened an app to book a room at the Plaza Hotel on the Upper East Side. She needed a hot shower and a locked door.

She selected the black card tied to Emmett's primary account and hit pay.

A red box flashed on the screen: Transaction Declined. Account Frozen.

Daisy frowned. She assumed it was a fraud alert due to the late hour. She selected her own platinum credit card and tried again.

Transaction Declined by Issuer.

A cold sense of dread pooled in her stomach. She opened her banking app and checked her personal trust fund account.

The screen loaded. Her available balance was zero. A bold red banner across the top read: All assets temporarily locked by judicial order pending investigation of corporate fund misappropriation.

Daisy let out a dry, breathless laugh.

She understood instantly. This was Emmett. This was his ruthless, boardroom tactic applied to their marriage. He had used his armada of corporate lawyers to fabricate a complex legal pretext, cutting off her air supply to force her to come crawling back to him.

She grabbed her Hermes bag from the passenger seat and dumped the contents onto the leather upholstery. Lipstick, keys, a compact mirror, and three crumpled twenty-dollar bills. Sixty dollars.

She looked at the dashboard. The Porsche had a built-in GPS tracker. Emmett could find the car in minutes.

She made a split-second decision. She tossed the heavy car keys onto the passenger seat.

Daisy pushed the door open and ran out into the freezing rain, leaving the hundred-thousand-dollar car idling by the curb.

She ran two blocks down, her heels slipping on the wet pavement, until she saw a battered yellow taxi. She waved her arms frantically.

The cab pulled over. She climbed into the back seat, shivering uncontrollably.

The driver looked at her through the rearview mirror. "Where to, lady?" he asked with a thick accent.

"Queens," Daisy said. She gave him the name of a cheap motel she remembered passing years ago.

The taxi drove away from the glittering lights of Manhattan. The towering skyscrapers faded, replaced by rundown storefronts and dark, narrow streets.

When they arrived, Daisy handed the driver her cash. It was just enough for the fare and one night's stay.

The woman at the front desk chewed gum loudly, eyeing Daisy's ruined designer dress with suspicion. She slid a rusty brass key across the scratched counter.

Daisy walked up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor. She unlocked the door at the end of the hall.

The room smelled like stale cigarette smoke and cheap pine cleaner.

She pushed the door shut, locked the deadbolt, and dragged the heavy wooden desk chair under the doorknob.

She kicked off her wet heels. She walked barefoot across the stained carpet and collapsed onto the stiff mattress.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. A push notification popped up.

It was a TMZ alert. Billionaire's Hospital Drama.

Daisy clicked it. A video played. It was clear footage of Emmett standing in front of Eryn, his broad back shielding her from the camera, yelling at the paparazzi to back off.

Daisy scrolled down. The comments were brutal.

Looks like the charity case wife is finally getting dumped.

Eryn is his true love anyway. Daisy was just a placeholder.

Daisy stared at the glowing screen. The dam inside her finally broke.

Tears spilled over her eyelashes and dropped onto the glass screen. She curled into a tight ball on the hard bed, biting down hard on the scratchy blanket so she wouldn't scream.

Morning sunlight sliced through the broken slats of the motel blinds, hitting Daisy right in the eyes.

She woke up with a start. Her body ached from sleeping in her damp clothes on the terrible mattress.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. The screen was littered with notifications. Thirty missed calls from Emmett. Fifteen from Kelton.

Daisy's expression hardened into stone. She opened her settings, selected both numbers, and hit 'Block'.

She didn't stop there. She popped the SIM card tray open with an earring, pulled the tiny chip out, and walked into the bathroom. She dropped it into the toilet and pressed the flush handle.

She splashed cold water on her face, ignoring the dark circles under her eyes. She walked out of the motel and found a corner bodega.

She used her last five dollars to buy a cheap, prepaid burner phone.

Miles away, in the penthouse office of the Reese Group on Wall Street.

Emmett stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the city. The cut on his lower lip had scabbed over, making him look feral and dangerous.

The heavy oak door opened. Kelton walked in, his face pale.

"Sir," Kelton said nervously. "We found the Porsche. It was abandoned on Fifth Avenue. The NYPD was already preparing to tow it, but we pulled some strings with the precinct captain and intercepted the vehicle. No signs of a struggle."

Emmett spun around. The expensive fountain pen in his hand snapped in half with a loud crack. Black ink splattered across his knuckles and dripped onto the carpet.

"Pull the street cameras," Emmett ordered, his voice a lethal growl.

Kelton swallowed hard. "We did. She took a cab. The signal from her phone died somewhere in Queens. It's completely untraceable now."

Emmett's jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He didn't believe it. Daisy was terrified of the dark. She liked high thread-count sheets and room service. She couldn't survive out there.

This was a tantrum. She was trying to punish him.

"Call every hotel, every bank," Emmett commanded coldly. "No one gives her a room. No one extends her a line of credit. Put the word out to her friends. Anyone who helps her is making an enemy of me."

Kelton hesitated. "Sir, if she has no money and no shelter..."

Emmett shot him a look so freezing Kelton snapped his mouth shut.

Emmett walked to his desk. He opened the top drawer and stared at the velvet box holding the pink diamond necklace. He slammed the drawer shut. She would come back. The cold and hunger would force her back to him by tonight.

Daisy sat on a chipped wooden bench in a public park. She used the burner phone to call a pro-bono legal clinic. She booked a free consultation with a divorce attorney.

She hung up. Across the street, a massive digital billboard played a morning talk show.

Eryn Cannon's face filled the screen. She was dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "...and I'm just so grateful to have someone so important standing by my side as the anniversary of my mother's passing approaches tomorrow."

Daisy stared at the screen. Tomorrow was Eryn's mother's memorial service. Emmett would absolutely be there.

A reckless, burning plan formed in her mind.

She stood up. She walked into a nearby thrift store. She took off her diamond wedding band-the only piece of jewelry she hadn't left behind-and traded it to the pawn counter in the back for two hundred dollars in cash and a conservative black suit.

She returned to the motel. She sat at the wobbly desk, pulled out a piece of cheap motel stationery, and grabbed a pen.

She began to write a crude, legally binding divorce agreement.

When she finished, she pressed the pen down hard, signing her name at the bottom. The ink bled through the cheap paper.

She stared at the document. Her eyes were completely dry. Tomorrow, she was going to burn his reputation to the ground.