Kaya turned off the faucet. She grabbed a paper towel, gently patted her wet hand dry, and walked out of the kitchen.

She climbed the stairs and walked down the hall to the master bedroom. Her bedroom.

She pushed the door open and walked straight into the massive walk-in closet. She pulled open the bottom drawer of the built-in dresser and dragged out a white first-aid kit.

Kaya sat down on the velvet stool in front of her vanity mirror. She opened the kit, took out a tube of burn ointment, and squeezed a thick layer onto a cotton swab.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow. She dragged the cotton swab across the angry red blisters on her hand.

Sharp, biting pain shot up her arm, the raw nerve endings screaming in protest as the cold gel touched the ruined skin. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead, and her stomach rolled with the intense, throbbing ache. She didn't flinch. Her facial muscles didn't move.

After applying the ointment and wrapping a light gauze around her wrist, Kaya opened the top drawer of the vanity.

Inside sat velvet boxes filled with diamonds, sapphires, and pearls. Every piece was a gift from Grady. Apology gifts for missing dinners. Anniversary gifts meant to maintain the illusion of their perfect marriage.

An hour ago, she cherished them. Now, they looked like chains.

Kaya pulled a large black velvet drawstring bag from the back of the drawer. She opened the jewelry boxes one by one, dumping the heavy necklaces and rings into the bag. Her movements were fast, mechanical, and precise.

The brass doorknob of the bedroom clicked.

Grady walked in. He didn't knock. He never knocked.

Kaya shoved the heavy velvet bag to the very back of the drawer and slammed it shut. She grabbed a wooden hairbrush from the counter and began pulling it through her long, dark hair.

Grady walked up behind her. He stopped a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into his trouser pockets. He looked at her reflection in the mirror. His brow furrowed.

He expected her to be crying. He had his speech ready.

"Listen," Grady sighed, his voice taking on that patronizing tone he always used. "Jasmine has always been clumsy. You know how sensitive she is. As her sister-in-law, you need to be more accommodating."

Kaya stopped brushing. She set the wooden brush down on the marble counter.

She stood up and turned around to face him. She looked straight into his dark eyes.

The corners of her mouth lifted into a flawless, beautiful smile.

"It's perfectly fine, Grady," Kaya said, her voice soft and sweet. "Why would I ever hold a grudge against her?"

Grady's mouth opened, but no sound came out. The rest of his lecture died in his throat.

Her smile was too perfect. Her voice lacked any trace of the usual underlying sadness or desperation. It was a terrifyingly empty compliance.

A sudden, sharp spike of genuine irritation flared in his chest. This wasn't her usual timid retreat; this was a blatant dismissal that grated against his ego. His eyes dropped to her right hand. The white gauze wrapped around her wrist stood out against her pale skin. A sudden, irritating itch of guilt flared in his chest.

He pulled his right hand out of his pocket and reached toward her. "Let me see the burn."

Kaya took a smooth, natural step to the left. She moved just out of his reach.

"I need to change for the family dinner," Kaya said, her tone light and conversational. She turned and walked back toward the closet doors.

Grady's hand hung suspended in the empty air. His fingers twitched. The unsettling feeling in his gut tightened into a hard knot. She had never avoided his touch before.

Before he could step forward, a small head poked through the half-open bedroom door.

"Grady?" Jasmine's voice was tiny, trembling. "I'm scared Grandmother is going to yell at me again. Can you stay with me until dinner?"

Grady looked at the closed closet door. He looked back at Jasmine. The habit of protecting his sister overrode the strange panic in his chest.

"I'm coming," Grady said. He turned and walked out of the room.

Inside the closet, Kaya leaned her back against the heavy wooden door. She listened to their footsteps fading down the hallway.

She let out a long, shaky breath.

Kaya reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She opened the browser and typed: Top divorce attorneys Manhattan.

She scrolled past the sponsored ads. Her eyes landed on a name: Genevieve Atherton. Known as the Iron Lady of divorces.

Kaya took a screenshot of the contact information and moved the photo into a locked, hidden folder on her phone.

She walked over to her hanging clothes. She bypassed the dresses Grady liked and pulled out a high-necked, long-sleeved silk blouse in a deep emerald green.

She slipped the blouse on, buttoning it all the way up to her throat. It covered her collarbones perfectly, but the white gauze on her hand was still visible.

Kaya checked her reflection one last time. No tears. No weakness.

She opened the closet door and walked out into the hallway.

Agnes Novak, a young maid, was dusting the hallway table. She saw Kaya and immediately looked at her wrapped hand. "Oh, Mrs. Maddox. Does it hurt terribly?"

Kaya smiled gently. "It's just a scratch, Agnes. Don't worry."

She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and walked toward the stairs to face the dinner table.

Kaya walked into the formal dining room. The massive crystal chandelier cast a warm, golden glow over the long oak table, which was already set with heavy silver cutlery and crystal wine glasses.

Eleanor sat at the head of the table. Imelda Maddox, Grady's mother, sat to Eleanor's right, casually flipping through a glossy fashion magazine.

Kaya walked to her designated seat on the left side of the table. She sat down, keeping her back perfectly straight, her hands resting elegantly in her lap.

A minute later, Grady and Jasmine walked into the room. They were laughing. Jasmine was clinging to his bicep, whispering something in his ear.

Grady pulled out the chair next to Kaya and sat down. A wave of his expensive cedarwood cologne washed over her. Kaya didn't turn her head.

The maids entered silently, placing the first course of seared scallops in front of everyone.

Kaya picked up her fork, her bandaged hand throbbing painfully under the table. Every pulse of her heartbeat sent a fresh, sharp wave of fire across her knuckles, a constant, physical reminder of the morning's humiliation. She kept her eyes glued to her plate, chewing slowly, making herself as invisible as possible.

Suddenly, Imelda dropped her magazine onto the table. Her sharp, manicured finger pointed across the table.

"Well," Imelda drawled, a smirk playing on her lips. "Look at that."

Kaya paused. She looked up. Imelda's eyes were locked directly on Kaya's neck.

When Kaya had tilted her head down to eat, the collar of her silk blouse had shifted open just a fraction. It exposed the hollow of her collarbone. Right above the bone was a small, bright red mark.

It was a splash burn from the hot soup earlier, but against her pale skin, it looked exactly like a fresh hickey.

"Grady," Imelda chuckled, taking a sip of her wine. "You need to learn some restraint. You can't leave marks on your wife where the elders can see them. It lacks decorum."

The clinking of silverware stopped. The air in the dining room instantly thickened.

Everyone's eyes snapped to Kaya's neck.

Grady froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. He stared at the red mark on Kaya's skin. His brow furrowed in deep confusion.

He hadn't touched her. He hadn't kissed her neck. Where the hell did that come from?

Across the table, Jasmine's face drained of all color. Her eyes widened in horror, staring at the red mark as if it were a venomous snake. Her hands gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white.

Kaya looked at Imelda. She felt Grady's confused stare burning into the side of her face. She saw Jasmine vibrating with pure, unadulterated jealousy.

Kaya didn't reach up to cover the mark. She didn't open her mouth to explain that it was a burn.

Instead, she slowly lowered her eyelashes. She bit her inner cheek to force a faint blush to her cheeks. She let a small, shy smile touch her lips, and she looked down at her lap.

It was the perfect picture of a bashful, loved wife.

Eleanor slapped the table in delight. "Oh, leave them alone, Imelda! They are young and healthy. At this rate, I'll be holding my great-grandson by next Christmas!" The old woman's laughter echoed off the high ceiling.

Jasmine let out a sharp, ragged breath.

She suddenly shoved her porcelain plate forward. The ceramic scraped loudly against the wood.

"This steak is too tough!" Jasmine whined loudly, her voice shrill. "I can't chew it. I want Boston lobster."

It was a ridiculous demand. The main course hadn't even been served yet, and the kitchen hadn't prepared lobster.

But Grady immediately snapped out of his daze. He looked at Jasmine's pale, furious face.

"Helen!" Grady called out, waving his hand. "Tell the chef to steam some fresh lobster immediately."

"Yes, Mr. Maddox," the maid scurried away.

Grady reached across the table and grabbed the platter of snow crab legs. He picked up a silver cracking tool. Right there, in front of his wife and his family, he began meticulously cracking the crab shells.

He pulled the sweet white meat out, carefully removing the soft cartilage, and placed the pieces directly onto Jasmine's plate.

"Eat this for now," Grady said softly, his eyes full of endless patience.

Imelda and Eleanor didn't blink. To them, it was just a brother spoiling his adopted sister.

Kaya watched him peel the crab. She felt absolutely nothing. The anger was gone. The sadness was gone. There was only a cold, clinical observation of a man she no longer knew.

Kaya swallowed the last bite of her scallop. She picked up her linen napkin and elegantly dabbed the corners of her mouth.

She placed the napkin on the table and stood up. "Excuse me. I am full."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out of the dining room.

Kaya walked out of the oppressive atmosphere of the dining room. She turned down the long hallway leading toward the east wing sitting room.

"Kaya. Wait."

Kaya stopped and turned. Eleanor was hobbling toward her, leaning heavily on her cane.

The old woman reached into the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out two small, beautifully wrapped boxes. She pressed them into Kaya's hands.

"These are the newest ovulation supplements," Eleanor whispered, her eyes darting around to make sure no one was listening. "Take them daily."

Kaya looked at the boxes. She forced a polite smile. "Thank you, Grandmother."

Eleanor leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "And don't worry about Jasmine being a nuisance much longer. I've arranged a meeting for her next week with the heir of the Sterling Bank in Manhattan. Once they hit it off, we'll marry her out. She won't be underfoot anymore."

Kaya's eyes flickered. Marry her out. Grady would burn this house to the ground before he let another man touch Jasmine.

"That sounds wonderful," Kaya said smoothly.

Eleanor patted her arm and turned around, calling for a maid to help her upstairs.

Kaya gripped the boxes and continued down the hallway. She turned the corner near the library.

A figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking her path.

Jasmine stood there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes were dark and venomous, completely devoid of the innocent act she played in front of Grady.

"Who gave you that mark?" Jasmine hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "Tell me the truth, Kaya. Who is it?"

Kaya stopped. She looked at the girl standing in front of her like a rabid dog guarding a stolen bone.

Kaya let out a soft, mocking laugh. She tilted her head, her eyes lazy and cold. "Didn't your brother tell you?"

The words hit Jasmine like a physical blow. Her face contorted in pure fury.

Jasmine raised her right hand and swung it hard toward Kaya's face.

Before the slap could land, Kaya took a sharp step back, her eyes cold as ice. Jasmine's hand hit empty air, the momentum throwing her completely off balance. She stumbled forward, her heels skidding awkwardly against the polished wood.

"Don't touch me," Kaya said, her voice low and dangerous, carrying a quiet authority she had never shown before. "Stop playing these pathetic games. You are boring me."

"Let her go!"

A furious roar echoed down the hallway.

Kaya looked up. Grady was marching toward them, his face dark with rage, his fists clenched at his sides.

Kaya didn't move toward Jasmine. She simply stood her ground and deliberately wiped her fingertips on the side of her skirt, as if the very air around the girl was filthy.

The moment Grady appeared, Jasmine threw herself backward. She crashed onto the hardwood floor, clutching her wrist and bursting into loud, hysterical sobs.

"Grady!" Jasmine wailed. "She attacked me! She's crazy!"

Grady rushed forward and dropped to his knees. He pulled Jasmine behind his back, shielding her with his body. He glared up at Kaya, his eyes blazing with disgust.

"Have you lost your mind?" Grady snarled. "You act like a madwoman!"

Kaya looked down at him. She saw the man she had loved for two years kneeling on the floor, defending the woman he was sleeping with, calling his wife crazy.

She didn't feel the urge to explain. She didn't care what he thought anymore.

"If you think I'm crazy," Kaya said, her voice eerily calm, "then why don't you let me leave?"

Grady's jaw locked. The coldness in her eyes stung his pride. She wasn't fighting for him. She was looking at him like he was garbage.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"Gus," Grady barked into the phone. "Bring the car to the front door. Now."

He hung up and pointed a finger at Kaya. "You are going back to the Tribeca penthouse tonight. Alone. You need to sit in that empty apartment and think about how you treat my family."

He thought it was a punishment. He thought isolating her would break her.

"I'm staying here to take care of Jasmine," Grady added, his voice cruel.

"Perfect," Kaya said.

She didn't argue. She didn't look back. She simply turned on her heel and walked toward the front doors.

Grady watched her walk away. His chest felt tight. He expected her to beg to stay. Her immediate compliance felt like a slap to the face.

Kaya pushed open the heavy oak front doors. The cool night air hit her face.

Gus McCoy, the private driver, was already standing by the black Maybach, holding the rear door open.

Kaya slid into the plush leather seat. The door closed with a solid thud, shutting out the Maddox estate completely.

"Tribeca, Gus," Kaya said. She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.