Sunday brunch at the Garrison Estate was a theatrical performance of wealth and hypocrisy. The sunroom was flooded with light, reflecting off the crystal flutes of mimosas held by people who despised each other.

Avery sat at the far end of the long table, her hands folded in her lap. She wore a pale yellow dress that washed her out, making her look even more ghost-like than usual.

Augustus sat at the center, radiating arrogance. To his right sat his mother, Eleanor, a woman whose face was pulled so tight by surgery she looked permanently surprised.

And to Augustus's left sat Gilda.

She wasn't invited, technically. But the Garrisons tolerated power, and Gilda was currently projecting it.

A servant approached with a pitcher of mimosas. Gilda held up a hand, a dramatic, sweeping gesture that silenced the table.

"No alcohol for me," she said, her voice carrying clearly to the ends of the room.

Eleanor paused, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth. "On a diet, dear?"

Gilda smiled, turning to look at Augustus. He looked smug, patting her hand on the tablecloth.

"Not exactly," Gilda said. She placed a hand on her stomach. "We're expecting."

The sound of silverware clattering against fine china echoed in the room. Eleanor dropped her fork. Franklin Garrison, Augustus's father, lowered his newspaper.

"An heir?" Franklin boomed, a smile breaking across his stern face. "A Garrison heir?"

"Yes," Augustus said, puffing out his chest. "A boy, we think. It's early, but the doctors are optimistic."

The table erupted. Eleanor was out of her chair, rushing to hug Gilda. Franklin called for a toast to the future of the lineage. They cooed and fawned, their excitement palpable.

Avery sat in silence. She was completely erased. It was as if she didn't exist. She was the wife, sitting ten feet away, while her husband celebrated his mistress's pregnancy with his parents.

Augustus cleared his throat. The room quieted down. He looked at Avery, his expression hardening. He reached under his chair and pulled out a thick manila envelope. He slid it down the table. It stopped just in front of Avery's untouched plate.

"It's time to formalize the transition, Avery," he said. "We need to make room for the family."

Avery picked up the envelope. Her hands trembled-just enough for them to see. She opened it.

It was a divorce settlement.

She scanned the terms. They were offering her the villa in the Hamptons-a money pit that needed a new roof-and fifty million dollars.

Fifty million. Augustus was worth four billion.

"It's a generous offer," Eleanor said, her voice sharp. "Considering you're... well, barren. You provided no value to this family, Avery. This is a kindness."

Gilda smirked, stroking her flat stomach. "We just want what's best for everyone."

Avery lowered her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the moisture to gather in her lashes. When she looked up, a single, perfect tear tracked down her cheek.

"Is there no other way?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"We need an heir, Avery," Augustus said coldly. "You couldn't give me one. Gilda did. It's simple biology."

Avery nodded slowly, looking defeated. She pushed the paper back toward him, but stopped.

"I will sign," she said.

Augustus let out a breath he had been holding. "Good."

"But," Avery added, sniffing. "I need my lawyer to review it first. Just... just to make sure I understand the tax implications. I'm not very good with numbers."

Augustus laughed. It was a cruel, barking sound. "Of course you aren't. Fine. Have your little lawyer look at it. But make it quick. I want this done by Tuesday."

Avery stood up. "Excuse me. I... I need a moment."

She turned and walked out of the sunroom. Behind her, she heard the pop of a champagne cork. She heard Eleanor laughing, saying, "Thank God she's finally gone. Such a depressing little thing."

Avery walked into the hallway. The moment she was out of sight, she stopped.

She reached up and wiped the tear from her cheek with a single, brutal swipe of her thumb. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders rolled back. She didn't look back at the sunroom.

She walked toward the exit with the stride of a predator who had just set a trap and was now waiting for the snap.

The conference room at the law firm of Sterling & Cooper was located on the 40th floor, overlooking the grey expanse of Wall Street. The air conditioning was set to a chilling temperature.

Augustus sat on one side of the mahogany table, flanked by three lawyers. He checked his watch impatiently.

The door opened.

Avery walked in.

Augustus blinked. He almost didn't recognize her.

Gone was the pastel cardigan. Gone was the soft, wavy hair. Avery was wearing a black suit, tailored so sharply it looked like armor. Her hair was slicked back into a severe, tight bun. Her makeup was minimal, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones.

She didn't look down. She looked him straight in the eye.

She walked to the table. Augustus's lead attorney pushed the original contract forward. "Mrs. Garrison, if you'll just sign here..."

Avery didn't sit down. She picked up the contract. She walked over to the shredder in the corner of the room. She fed the document into the machine.

The mechanical whirring was deafening in the silence.

Augustus stood up, his face reddening. "What the hell are you doing?"

Avery turned. She signaled to a man sitting quietly in the corner-a lawyer Augustus didn't recognize. The man stood and distributed a set of thick, black binders to everyone at the table. As he set them down, he also placed a sleek, modern fountain pen in the center of the table, positioning it with deliberate care.

The binders slid across the polished mahogany with a heavy thud.

"Open it," Avery commanded. Her voice was steady, resonant. It wasn't a request.

Augustus opened the file.

His face drained of color.

The first page was a photograph of a bank statement from the Cayman Islands. An account he had sworn to the IRS didn't exist.

The second page was a log of insider trading transactions involving Garrison Biotech stock, dated three days before FDA announcements.

The third section was a detailed timeline. Gilda Nichols. The St. Regis. The Cartier receipts paid for with company funds.

"You've been busy," Avery said, leaning her hands on the table. She loomed over him.

"Where did you get this?" Augustus whispered, looking at his lawyer in panic. His lawyer was reading the file, looking pale.

"I want fifty percent of the marital assets," Avery said. "Liquidated. Cash."

"You're insane!" Augustus shouted. "That's two billion dollars!"

"And," Avery continued, ignoring his outburst, "I want five percent of the Garrison Biotech voting shares. They will be transferred to a holding company of my choosing, Citrus Ventures, for tax and privacy reasons."

"Never," Augustus spat. "My father will kill me."

Avery leaned closer. "Or I send this to the SEC. Today. Right now."

She pointed to the phone on the table. "And the photos go to TMZ. And the receipts go to the board of directors."

"Your stock will tank before the market opens tomorrow," she said softly. "You'll go to federal prison for insider trading. And your precious heir? He'll be born while his father is wearing an orange jumpsuit and his mother is selling her jewelry to pay legal fees."

Augustus looked at her. Really looked at her. He saw the cold intelligence in her eyes, the steel in her spine.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

Avery smiled. It was a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm the woman you underestimated, Augustus."

Augustus's lawyer leaned in, whispering urgently into his ear. "She has you, Mr. Garrison. This is checkmate. If this gets out, you're finished."

Augustus slammed his fist onto the table. The binders jumped. He was shaking with rage, but he grabbed the pen. He signed the new agreement, the tip of the pen tearing through the paper.

Avery picked up the document. She checked the signature.

"Pleasure doing business," she said.

She turned on her heel and walked toward the door. The victory was absolute.

The lawyers were scrambling to pack up their briefcases, eager to escape the radioactive tension in the room. Augustus was slumped in his chair, staring at the polished wood grain, looking like a man who had just survived a plane crash only to realize he was stranded on a desert island.

Avery stopped at the door. She paused, her hand on the brass handle.

She turned back.

She walked slowly back toward Augustus. The clicking of her heels was the only sound in the room.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a small, black velvet box. The kind usually reserved for cufflinks or earrings.

She placed it gently on the table in front of him.

"A parting gift," she said softly.

Augustus looked up, suspicion clouding his eyes. He reached out and flipped the lid open.

Inside, resting on the plush velvet, was a single, silver sewing needle.

He frowned, confused. He looked up at her. "What is this? Some kind of voodoo threat?"

Avery leaned down. She brought her lips close to his ear, invading his space just as Brandon had done to her, but with cold, calculated precision.

"Check your nightstand drawer, Augustus," she whispered.

Augustus froze.

"The box of condoms," she continued, her voice a silken thread of malice. "I poked holes in every single one. With that needle."

Augustus's eyes widened. His pupils dilated in horror. The realization hit him like a physical blow.

"Gilda didn't trap you," Avery whispered. "I did."

She pulled back to look at his face. "I gave you exactly what you wanted. An heir. And in exchange, I got my freedom."

Augustus's face turned a violent shade of purple. The veins in his neck bulged. He let out a roar, a sound of pure, animalistic fury.

He lunged.

He grabbed Avery by the throat, his fingers digging into her windpipe.

"You bitch!" he screamed, shaking her. "You calculated bitch!"

The lawyers shouted, rushing forward to pull him off.

Avery didn't struggle. She didn't claw at his hands. She stared straight into his eyes, her expression calm, almost bored.

"Strike me," she choked out. "Do it. And I'll take the other fifty percent."

Augustus froze. His hand was shaking on her neck. He looked at the witnesses. He looked at her fearless eyes.

He realized, with a jolt of terror, that he was afraid of her.

He released her, shoving her backward. She stumbled but caught herself on the table.

Augustus backed away, breathing heavily. "Get out. Get out!"

Avery straightened her collar. She touched her neck, where red marks were already blooming. She didn't look in pain. She looked satisfied.

"Goodbye, Augustus."

She walked out of the room.

Behind her, she heard the sound of the velvet box being swept off the table, hitting the wall with a dull thud, followed by Augustus's scream of impotent rage.