Kenton released her arm as if she burned him. Carleigh rubbed the spot where his fingers had dug in. The skin was already turning pink.

He strode to his desk, picked up the divorce papers he had clearly brought with him, and threw them onto the glass surface. They slid across and scattered onto the floor near her feet.

"Explain this," he demanded. "The medical clause. Retract it."

Carleigh looked down at the papers but didn't pick them up. She leaned back against the door, crossing her arms. "Why? Is it inaccurate?"

"I do not have erectile dysfunction!" Kenton shouted. He ran a hand through his hair, destroying his perfect grooming. "After that first night, I chose not to touch you again. There is a difference."

"A distinction without a difference to a judge," Carleigh said calmly. "Three years of celibacy in a marriage creates a presumption. Unless you want to undergo a court-ordered medical exam? Or perhaps testify that you were withholding affection as a form of emotional abuse? Take your pick, Kenton. The ED story makes you look sympathetic. The truth makes you look like a monster."

Kenton stared at her. He looked baffled, as if the office furniture had suddenly started speaking Latin. He had never seen this Carleigh. The Carleigh he knew stuttered when he raised his voice.

"You think you're clever," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. "But you forgot one thing. The pre-nup."

"I waived my right to your assets. I know."

"Not that part." Kenton sat on the edge of his desk, towering over her even from a distance. "The employment clause. Your father's debt was consolidated into a loan from Parker Industries. You work it off. If you quit before the term is up-which is another two years-the full amount becomes due immediately. Plus a five million dollar breach-of-contract penalty."

Carleigh felt her stomach drop. She had forgotten the specific penalty number. Five million.

"You don't have five million dollars, Carleigh," Kenton said softly. A cruel smirk played on his lips. "Your father doesn't have five dollars. So, unless you want to go to prison for fraud, or see your father on the street, you will sit at that desk, you will answer my phones, and you will tear up these divorce papers."

He thought he had her. He thought she was trapped.

Carleigh's heart hammered against her ribs. But then she remembered the email in her encrypted folder. The commission offer from the Atelier. The fee for the restoration of the Raphael sketch was... substantial. And her backlog of royalties as "Vee" was sitting in a Swiss account she hadn't touched for three years to avoid suspicion.

She didn't have the money right now in her US account. But she could get it.

She looked him in the eye. "You really are pathetic, aren't you? You have to use a contract to force a woman to stay in the same room as you."

Kenton flinched. The smirk vanished. "I am giving you a reality check."

"I'll pay it," Carleigh said.

Kenton laughed. "With what? Are you going to sell your kidneys?"

"That's none of your business. Send the invoice to my lawyer." She turned for the door.

The intercom on his desk buzzed. It was Benjamin, his executive assistant. "Sir? Miss Donovan is on line one. She says she's in pain."

Kenton's face softened instantly. The transformation was nauseating. He reached for the phone, his anger at Carleigh forgotten in a split second. "Put her through."

Carleigh felt bile rise in her throat. She unlocked the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kenton barked, holding the receiver to his chest.

"To find five million dollars," Carleigh said. "Enjoy your phone sex."

She walked out.

Carleigh stepped out of the office, her adrenaline crashing into a wall of exhaustion. The entire office was pretending to work, but she could feel their eyes on her.

She walked back to her desk to retrieve her box.

Secretary Davis was there. She was holding the framed photo of Carleigh's mother.

"You think you're so special," Davis hissed, her voice low. "Walking in there and shouting at him. You're just trash."

She dropped the photo.

It wasn't an accident. Carleigh saw her fingers open. The frame hit the corner of the metal filing cabinet before smashing onto the thin carpet. The glass shattered.

Carleigh stopped. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. That photo was the only one she had of her mother before the sickness took her. It was the original print.

She dropped her box. She fell to her knees, her hands scrambling for the photo.

"Oops," Davis said, a smirk audible in her voice.

Carleigh picked up the photo. A shard of glass slid across her palm, leaving a nasty, painful gash. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but blood welled up instantly, bright red, dripping onto the smiling face of her mother in the picture.

Something inside Carleigh snapped. A tether that had been holding her back for three years just dissolved.

She stood up. Her hand was bleeding freely, droplets hitting the beige carpet. She grabbed the stack of files Davis had dumped on her desk earlier-the ones meant for the noon meeting.

"Pick it up," Davis sneered.

Carleigh wound her arm back and threw the files. Not at the desk. At Davis.

The heavy binder clip struck Davis in the chest, and hundreds of pages exploded into the air, fluttering down like a blizzard.

"You pick it up!" Carleigh screamed. Her voice was raw, primal. "Pick it up like you pick up his dry cleaning! Like you pick up his scraps!"

Davis shrieked, stumbling back.

The door to Kenton's office flew open. He stood there, phone still in hand, staring at the chaos. He saw the papers covering the floor. He saw Davis cowering.

And then he saw Carleigh. He saw the blood dripping from her clenched fist. His eyes widened. He took a step forward, dropping the phone onto his desk.

"Carleigh?" His voice was unsure. He looked at the blood. "You're hurt."

"Stay away from me!" Carleigh held up her bloody hand like a weapon. "I quit, Kenton! I quit this job, I quit this marriage, and I quit you!"

She bent down, snatched the photo from the glass shards with her uninjured hand, and turned around.

"Carleigh, wait-your hand needs to be cleaned," Kenton called out. He sounded frantic now. He started to move toward her.

"If you come near me, I will scream," she said, her voice dropping to a terrifying calm.

She walked to the elevators. She pressed the button with a bloody fingerprint.

Kenton stopped. He looked at her, really looked at her, standing there in the ruins of his office, bleeding and broken but standing taller than he had ever seen her. A strange, cold fear gripped his heart.

The elevator doors opened. Carleigh stepped in.

Kenton turned to Davis, who was starting to sob theatrically. "She... she attacked me, Mr. Parker! She's crazy!"

Kenton looked at the shattered glass on the floor. He recognized the photo in the debris. He knew how much that photo meant to Carleigh.

His face went cold. "Your personal disputes have created a disruption on my executive floor and resulted in the destruction of property. That is unacceptable."

Davis stopped crying. "Sir?"

"You're fired," Kenton said. "Get out of my building before I have security throw you out."

He turned back to the elevator, but the doors had already closed. The floor indicator was ticking down.

The wind on Fifth Avenue felt like ice against her damp skin. Carleigh had wrapped a handkerchief around her hand, but the blood had already soaked through the silk. It throbbed with a dull, rhythmic pain.

She walked back to The Plaza, her head held high despite the dizziness. She needed to clean the wound, pack her bag, and figure out her next move.

When she reached the reception desk, the manager-the same polite man from last night-looked uncomfortable. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Mrs. Parker," he said quietly. "I'm afraid there's been a problem with the room."

"What problem?" Carleigh asked, cradling her injured hand.

"Mr. Parker called. He... reported the card as stolen. He's placed a security freeze on all associated sub-accounts, citing potential unauthorized activity."

Carleigh laughed. It was a dry, humorless sound. Of course he did. He was cutting off her oxygen.

"Fine," she said. She reached into her purse and pulled out her personal debit card. It was an old account she used for small things. "I'll pay with this."

The manager took it. He swiped it. He waited.

"Declined," he said softly.

Carleigh stared at the machine. "That's impossible. There's money in there."

"The account is flagged. Apparently, the bank received a notice from Parker Corp's legal team regarding a potential claim on all marital assets."

He had frozen everything. Even her personal account was technically linked to the joint trust. He had moved faster than she thought possible.

"I see," Carleigh said. She took the card back.

"Mr. Parker left a message," the manager added. "He said... he said the driver is outside to take you home whenever you're ready to stop 'acting out'."

Carleigh turned around. Through the glass doors, she saw the black Maybach idling at the curb. Hopkins was standing by the door, looking miserable.

She had zero dollars. No room. A bleeding hand. And it was starting to rain.

She walked out the side exit.

She avoided the main street where Hopkins could see her. She walked two blocks east, the rain soaking through her blazer instantly. She shivered violently. She couldn't go to her father; he would just call Kenton and sell her back for a gambling stake.

She ducked into the vestibule of a Duane Reade pharmacy to get out of the rain. Her teeth were chattering.

She pulled out her phone. 12% battery.

She scrolled past her father's name. Past Kenton's. She stopped at Harley.

Harley Finch. Her college roommate. The only person who knew about "Vee." But they hadn't spoken in six months because Harley couldn't stand watching Carleigh play the submissive wife.

Carleigh pressed call.

"If this is you asking for a recipe for Kenton's favorite scones, I'm hanging up," Harley's voice answered, brisk and loud.

"Harley," Carleigh said. Her voice broke.

There was a pause. "Carleigh? Why do you sound like you're underwater?"

"I left him. I... I'm on 58th and Lex. I have no money. My hand is bleeding."

"Stay there," Harley said. The line went dead immediately.

Carleigh slid down the wall to the floor, clutching her phone. She watched the rain streak the glass. For the first time all day, she let a single tear fall.