The sun hadn't even risen when the door burst open.

Avery was dragged out of sleep by a hand gripping her upper arm. Julian yanked her out of bed.

"Get dressed," he snarled.

"Julian! You're hurting me!" Avery stumbled, trying to find her footing.

He threw a handful of paper scraps at her face. They fluttered down onto the duvet.

"Explain this," he demanded.

Avery looked down. She saw the letters. HCG.

Her heart stopped.

"It's... it's old," she stammered. "From my annual checkup. It was a false alarm."

"Liar," Julian hissed. He grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the door. "Dr. Halloway is too slow. We're going to the private clinic in Uptown. Now. I want the truth."

"No! Julian, please!"

He didn't listen. He marched her down the stairs, past a smirking Scarlett who was drinking coffee in the foyer, and shoved her into the passenger seat of his car.

He drove like a maniac. He didn't take her to the family hospital where she might have allies or privacy. He took her to a high-security private facility known for its absolute discretion-and its lock-down policies.

When they arrived, a man was waiting. Dr. Vance. A cold man who owed the Vanderbilt family everything.

Avery panicked.

"Just a blood draw, Mrs. Vanderbilt," Vance said, his eyes cold.

"No!" Avery backed into the counter. Her hand closed around a pair of surgical scissors left on a tray.

She raised them, pointing the blades at her own neck.

"Stay back!" she screamed. "Don't touch me!"

Julian froze. He looked at her-really looked at her. Her eyes were wild, filled with a terror so profound it shook him.

"Avery, put them down," he said, his voice wavering for the first time.

"You want the truth?" Avery cried, pressing the metal against her skin. A drop of blood welled up. "The truth is I hate you! I hate what you've done to me!"

"She's unstable, Julian," Vance said, stepping forward with the needle. "We should sedate her."

"Back off!" Julian roared at the doctor.

He looked at Avery. He saw a woman on the edge of a breakdown. He saw a woman who would rather bleed than let him near her.

A dark thought took root in his mind. She was this terrified of a test. Why? Unless... unless she had already done something to ensure the result would be negative? Unless she was trying to hide the fact that she had terminated it?

The thought made him sick. It made the world tilt on its axis.

"Fine," Julian said, his voice turning to ice. "We're leaving."

He turned his back on her. "You've made your point. You're crazy. Get in the car."

Avery lowered the scissors, her knees buckling. She had bought herself time. But at what cost?

She was a prisoner in her own room.

Julian had locked the door from the outside. He hadn't come back since the clinic.

Evening fell. The lock clicked.

Scarlett walked in. She was wearing a silk robe that was tied loosely, revealing her collarbone. There was a fresh, red mark on her neck. A hickey.

Avery looked away, her stomach twisting. But then, a scent hit her. Or rather, the lack of one. Julian smelled of sandalwood and expensive tobacco. Scarlett smelled only of her own cloying floral perfume and... rubbing alcohol?

Avery looked closer at the mark. The edges were too perfect. Too round. It looked like it had been made with a curling iron or suction, not a mouth.

"Julian is exhausted," Scarlett sighed, placing a tray on the bedside table. "He asked me to bring you this. It's a special herbal soup. For your... nerves."

"I'm not hungry."

"Drink it," Scarlett said, her voice dropping the sweet facade. "He wants you medicated."

Avery looked at the bowl. The liquid was dark, thick. It smelled bitter. Like mugwort and something metallic.

"What's in it?" Avery asked.

"Just what you need," Scarlett smiled. It was a shark's smile.

Avery reached for the bowl. She brought it to her lips, feigning compliance. Then, with a sudden jerk of her wrist, she shoved it away.

The bowl crashed to the floor. The dark liquid splattered everywhere-over the rug, over Scarlett's white slippers.

"You bitch!" Scarlett shrieked. She threw herself onto the floor, grabbing a shard of porcelain. She sliced her own palm.

"Julian!" she screamed. "Julian, help!"

Footsteps thundered down the hall. Julian burst in.

He saw Scarlett on the floor, clutching her bleeding hand. He saw the broken bowl.

"She threw it at me!" Scarlett sobbed. "I tried to help her, and she attacked me!"

Julian looked at Avery. His eyes were black holes.

"Are you insane?" he shouted. He knelt beside Scarlett, wrapping a handkerchief around her hand.

"There was something in the soup," Avery said calmly. She was sitting on the bed, her hands folded. "She's trying to poison me."

"Poison you?" Julian laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "She spent three hours making this for you. You are delusional."

He scooped Scarlett up in his arms.

"You stay here," he spat at Avery. "And if you break anything else, I'll tie you to the bed myself."

He carried Scarlett out.

Avery waited. Once the house was quiet, she slid off the bed. She took a small, empty vial of perfume from her vanity. She knelt on the rug and carefully scooped up some of the spilled liquid that hadn't soaked in yet.

She capped the vial.

Evidence. She needed to get this to a lab. But how? She was locked in. She tucked the vial into her bra, against her heart. It was a futile hope, but it was all she had.

Then she pulled out a burner phone she had hidden in a hollowed-out book. She dialed Sebastian.

"It's getting worse," she whispered. "She's trying to kill it."

It had been ten days since the clinic incident. Lady Eleanor insisted Avery come to the main house for tea. It was the only reason Julian unlocked the door.

But before they left, he stood in the doorway of her bathroom, watching her.

"Take your medicine," he ordered.

On the counter was a cup of the dark herbal brew. The same smell as Scarlett's soup.

"The doctor prescribed it," Julian said. "For your hysteria."

Avery picked up the cup. She walked into the toilet stall and closed the door. She poured the liquid into the bowl and flushed.

She counted to ten. Then she walked out.

Julian was waiting. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her close. He sniffed her breath.

"You didn't drink it," he said softly. Dangerously.

"I did."

He pushed past her. He looked into the toilet bowl. There was a faint brown ring near the rim where the water hadn't quite washed it away.

He turned back to her, his face contorted with rage. "You are defying me at every turn. Why? What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything!" Avery yelled back. "I'm protecting myself from your 'care'!"

A young maid appeared at the door, looking terrified.

"Sir?" she squeaked.

"Get out!" Julian roared.

"I... I found this, sir," the maid stammered. She held out a plastic bag. "I was vacuuming the study rug, near the shredder. This... this ball of paper was kicked under the desk."

Julian froze. He took the bag.

It was a crumpled ball of paper. Avery must have missed the shredder slot in her haste, or perhaps it had jammed and fallen.

He smoothed it out. It was wrinkled, torn in places, but legible.

The date. October 14th.

That was two weeks ago.

He looked at Avery. The blood drained from her face.

"You knew," Julian said. His voice was barely a whisper. "You knew two weeks ago."

Avery backed up until her hips hit the sink. "Julian..."

"You knew, and you didn't tell me." He stepped closer. "Is that why you won't let the doctors near you? Because there's nothing left to find? Did you handle it yourself during those two weeks?"

Avery stayed silent.

"Answer me!" he screamed, shattering a perfume bottle against the wall.