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.

The sky over the Upper East Side was thick with gray clouds.

Outside St. Patrick's Cathedral, a line of black luxury SUVs idled at the curb. Paparazzi pressed against the velvet ropes, their cameras flashing rapidly.

Daisy wore the cheap black suit she bought at the thrift store. She kept her head down, a pair of oversized sunglasses hiding her face. She slipped into a group of distant relatives dressed in mourning attire and walked right past the security checkpoint at the main doors.

She stepped into the cavernous hall of the cathedral.

The air was heavy with the cloying scent of hundreds of white lilies. A massive pipe organ played a low, mournful hymn that vibrated in the floorboards.

Daisy scanned the crowd. She spotted him immediately.

Emmett sat in the very first row. He wore a tailored black suit that made his shoulders look impossibly broad. His profile was sharp and unreadable.

Sitting right next to him was Eryn. She wore a sheer black lace dress that looked more suited for a gala than a funeral. She was leaning heavily toward Emmett, her shoulder brushing his arm.

A cold smile touched Daisy's lips. She reached up and pulled off her sunglasses. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded motel stationery.

She stepped out from the back row and walked directly down the center aisle.

The sharp click-clack of her cheap heels echoed loudly over the organ music. Heads began to turn.

Corinne, Eryn's manager, was standing near the front. She saw Daisy approaching and her eyes widened in horror. She stepped into the aisle to block her.

Daisy didn't slow down. She locked eyes with Corinne and shot her a glare so venomous that the manager instinctively stepped back, letting her pass.

Emmett felt the shift in the room. He turned his head.

When his eyes landed on Daisy, his breath hitched. Shock rippled across his stoic features.

He immediately started to stand up, his body turning toward her.

Seeing this, Eryn let out a dramatic gasp. She swayed on her feet and collapsed sideways, falling directly against Emmett's arm.

Emmett's reflexes kicked in. He caught her by the elbow to stop her from hitting the floor.

Daisy saw his hands on Eryn. Her heart turned to stone.

She reached the front row. She slammed the piece of paper down onto the wooden prayer kneeler directly in front of Emmett.

"Sign it," Daisy said. Her voice was crystal clear, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Don't make me embarrass you in front of a dead woman."

The people sitting nearby gasped. Whispers erupted through the cathedral like wildfire.

Emmett stared down at the cheap paper. He read the words Divorce Agreement written in her handwriting. The veins in his neck bulged.

"Are you out of your mind?" Emmett hissed, his voice a lethal whisper. "Get outside with me. Now."

He reached out to grab her arm.

Daisy jerked backward to avoid his touch.

At that exact moment, a worker pushing a heavy metal cart loaded with massive floral wreaths came down the side aisle. His vision was blocked by the flowers. He lost his footing on the slight incline of the floor.

The heavy metal cart rolled forward, picking up speed, heading straight for Daisy's back.

Emmett's eyes widened in sheer terror. "Daisy, move!" he roared.

He lunged over the pew to grab her.

He was a second too late. The sharp metal corner of the cart slammed brutally into the back of Daisy's calf, tearing deeply into the muscle.

Daisy let out a sharp cry of pain. The impact knocked her legs out from under her, and she crashed to the floor.

Blood instantly soaked through her black trousers, pooling onto the pristine marble floor.

Screams echoed through the church. Chaos erupted.

Emmett vaulted over the wooden pew. He didn't care about the dirt on the floor. He didn't care about his severe germaphobia. He dropped to his knees right in the middle of the growing puddle of blood.

He pressed his bare hands violently against her bleeding leg, trying to stem the flow. His expensive suit cuffs soaked up the red liquid.

"Emmett!" Eryn screamed from behind him, trying to grab his shoulder.

Emmett snapped his head back. He shot Eryn a look of such murderous rage that she shrieked and fell back into her seat.

Emmett slid his arms under Daisy's body. He lifted her into his chest, ignoring the blood smearing across his shirt.

"Clear the hall!" Emmett roared at his bodyguards. He turned and sprinted toward the private rooms at the back of the cathedral.