The city was damp and cold. Aurora hadn't gone to a hostel. She had gone to the one place she thought might be safe, a small studio she kept under a corporate LLC, a secret escape pod from her family life.

The key card didn't work. The light blinked red.

The building's superintendent, a kind man named George, saw her from the lobby. "Ms. Paul? I'm sorry. The unit was sold this morning. New owners changed the locks."

"Sold?" Aurora asked, her blood running cold. "That's impossible. I own it."

"The LLC was dissolved, something about unpaid taxes," George said, looking uncomfortable. "Some big corporation bought the whole floor. Heath Global, I think."

Corbin. He hadn't just predicted her moves; he had cut them off before she could even make them.

She sat on a bench in a nearby park, the revised contract-which had been messengered to her that morning-feeling heavy in her bag. It granted her joint custody on paper, but was filled with legal traps.

Her phone rang. It was an unknown number. She answered, desperate.

"Ms. Paul? This is Dwayne Rivera." The name sent a jolt through her. Rivera was the sharpest divorce and trust attorney in the country. She had consulted with him once, a year ago, about her mother's estate.

"Mr. Rivera? How did you-"

"I represent the Heath Family Trust," he said, his voice clipped and professional. "Mr. Heath has retained my services to oversee the execution of your pre-nuptial agreement. He wanted me to inform you that any attempt to contest it would be... unwise. The trust's resources are, for all intents and purposes, infinite."

He wasn't her potential ally. He was Corbin's weapon. Another door slammed shut.

"I understand," she said, her voice hollow.

Kendall called next. Aurora didn't want to answer, but the call was a video chat, and she hit accept by accident.

"How's the street, sister?" Kendall laughed from the interior of what looked like a private jet.

"Go to hell," Aurora said.

"Preston just bought your old restoration studio," Kendall said. "He's turning it into a storage unit for his golf clubs. Just thought you should know."

Aurora hung up.

She looked at her stomach. This baby. It was her only piece on the board. Corbin wanted it, but he wanted it on his terms. Her threat about a "stressful pregnancy" had been a bluff, and she suspected he knew it. She needed a better one.

She stood up. She walked to a public library-she didn't want to use her cell. She logged onto a computer and searched for clinics in Queens. Not for an abortion. For a consultation. She needed a medical record, a piece of paper that proved she was considering it. A paper trail was leverage.

She found a number for a clinic on 34th Avenue. One that took same-day appointments.

"I need to book a consultation," she said into the payphone. "Today. Now."

In the back of a Rolls Royce Phantom, Corbin watched the red dot on his tablet moving through Queens.

"She's at the public library," his assistant, Marcus, said from the front seat. "She just called a clinic on 34th Avenue. 'Women's Choice'."

Corbin's hand tightened around the tablet until the screen distorted.

"Is it a reputable facility?" Corbin asked.

"It's... barely legal, sir. Cash only."

Corbin felt a surge of rage so pure it almost blinded him. She would risk her life-and his heir-in a chop shop rather than accept his terms. He had underestimated her capacity for self-destruction.

"Marcus," Corbin said, his voice dangerously low. "That clinic is part of our real estate portfolio, isn't it? Under the 'Urban Renewal Initiative' shell company?"

Marcus paused, checking a file. "Yes, sir. We acquired the building six months ago."

"Shut it down," Corbin ordered. "Effective immediately. Cite health code violations. Have our security team meet me there. No one gets in or out."

"Yes, sir."

Corbin watched the red dot move toward the subway.

"Drive," he ordered. "Fast."

The waiting room of the clinic smelled of bleach and despair. The linoleum was peeling. A "Temporarily Closed for Maintenance" sign was hastily taped to the glass door, but Aurora had slipped in before it went up.

She sat on a plastic chair, her hat pulled low. Every instinct in her body was screaming that this was a mistake, but she forced herself to stay. She just needed the paperwork.

"Paul?" a nurse called out. She looked tired and harassed.

Aurora stood up. She followed the nurse into the back.

"Room 3. Doctor will be in shortly. Undress from the waist down."

Aurora did as she was told. She lay on the paper-covered table, staring at the water stain on the ceiling. This felt real. Too real. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, sliding into her ears.

The door opened.

"Dr. Stone," a voice said.

Aurora turned. The man who walked in wasn't the scruffy doctor she had seen on the website. He was immaculate. He wore a crisp white coat with a logo embroidered on the pocket: Heath Medical.

Aurora sat bolt upright. "Who are you? What's going on?"

Dr. Stone didn't look at her. He pulled an ultrasound machine toward the bed.

"We need to do a scan first," he said.

"I don't want a scan," Aurora said. "I just want the consultation."

"Protocol," Stone said. He squirted cold gel onto her stomach.

He pressed the wand down.

On the monitor, a grey static appeared. Then, a shape. A tiny, pulsing bean.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The sound filled the small room.

The door banged open.

Corbin walked in. He filled the doorway, his presence sucking the oxygen out of the room. He was breathing hard, his hair slightly windblown. Behind him, she could see men in dark suits clearing the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" Aurora shrieked, trying to cover herself with the paper sheet.

Corbin walked to the side of the bed. He looked at the monitor. He stared at the pulsing light.

"Seven weeks," Dr. Stone said. "Strong heartbeat."

Corbin reached out and touched the screen. His finger traced the image.

Then he looked at Aurora. His eyes were blazing.

"You were going to kill it," he said. It was an accusation.

"It was a consultation!" Aurora yelled. "To get leverage! To make you listen! Get out!"

Corbin grabbed a chair and dragged it to the bedside. He sat down, bringing his face level with hers.

"Let's make a deal," he said.

"I don't want your money," Aurora spat.

Corbin pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket. He held it up.

"This is a transfer order for Leonard Paul," Corbin said. "Moving him to a minimum-security facility. Private room. Better medical care. And a new legal team-my legal team-to work on his appeal."

Aurora stopped struggling. She looked at the paper. "You can do that?"

"I can do anything," Corbin said. "But if you ever set foot in a place like this again... your father stays in general population. And I hear the gangs there are very... unfriendly to white-collar criminals."

Aurora stared at him in horror. "You're blackmailing me? With my father's life?"

"I'm negotiating," Corbin said coldly. "His life for this one." He pointed to the screen.

Aurora looked at the monitor. The heartbeat. Thump-thump.

She looked at Corbin. He was a monster. A beautiful, rich monster.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"I can live with that," Corbin said. "As long as the baby lives."

He stood up. He threw the paper on the counter.

"Get dressed," he ordered. "We're going home."

He didn't wait. He turned and walked out.

Aurora lay there, the sound of the heartbeat still echoing in her ears. She had saved her father. But she had just sold herself to the devil.