Crawford pulled out his phone. The screen showed the emergency contact number for the private nurse.

The hostility vanished from his face. He turned his back and answered the call. His voice dropped low, carrying a trace of panic.

Holly's hand holding the scissors shook slightly. She heard him ask about Delphine's vital signs.

His back radiated a kind of tension she had never seen before. A cold, ironic sadness washed over Holly.

He hung up the phone. He turned back to face Holly. The aggressive predator was gone, replaced by a cold corporate negotiator.

He straightened his suit jacket. His voice was stiff as he announced that the divorce hearing had to be postponed.

Holly frowned. She tossed the scissors back onto the desk. She demanded to know why he was breaking the agreement.

Crawford used his father as the excuse. He said Arthur Morris had a heart condition and could not handle the shock of a family scandal right now.

Holly let out a dry laugh. She tore right through his lie. She pointed out that he was just terrified the divorce would crash the Morris Group's stock price this quarter.

The truth hit a nerve. Crawford's eyes darkened. He warned her not to act too smart.

He ordered Holly to attend a major charity gala with him tonight. They needed to maintain the illusion of a loving couple.

Holly crossed her arms. She refused flat out. She told him she was no longer his free PR prop.

Crawford lost his patience. He ripped a blank check from his checkbook and slapped it on the table. He told her to fill in the number.

The act of throwing money at her made Holly's blood boil. But then she remembered the massive final payment due for her studio's fabric order.

Holly changed her mind. She picked up the tablet on her desk and typed rapidly.

She pulled up a basic electronic contract and handed it to Crawford. The title read PR Appearance Service Agreement.

Crawford glanced at the screen. The billing rate was set at ten thousand dollars an hour.

He let out a harsh laugh. He mocked her, saying she finally showed her greedy true colors, just like her trailer park mother.

Holly kept her face blank. She replied that this was the market rate. If he didn't want to pay, he could get out.

Crawford ground his teeth. For the sake of the bigger picture tonight, he snatched the tablet and signed his name aggressively with his finger.

He tossed the tablet back to her. He viciously told her to dress like a proper Mrs. Morris tonight.

Holly checked the screen. The notification for the deposit pinged. A professional, fake smile touched her lips.

She gestured toward the door, kicking him out like a plague.

Crawford got back into the Maybach. He stared through the tinted window at the rusted iron gate rolling down. He yanked his tie loose.

At eight o'clock, a bulletproof SUV parked outside the studio.

Holly walked out. She wore a black, backless evening gown she had designed herself. The cut was sharp and aggressive.

The car window rolled down. Crawford looked at her wild, striking appearance. A flash of shock and deep displeasure crossed his eyes.

He coldly criticized the dress for being too revealing and against the family's conservative standards.

Holly slid into the backseat. She pressed herself against the far door. She coldly reminded him that the contract did not include a dress code.

The car pulled away, heading toward the Hamptons. The air inside the cabin grew heavy with their deliberate distance.

The SUV rolled onto the gravel driveway of the Hamptons estate. The massive iron gates closed slowly behind them.

Holly stepped into the foyer covered in Persian rugs. The butler immediately eyed her backless dress with a critical stare.

Crawford noticed the butler's look. His possessiveness flared. He took off his suit jacket and forced it over Holly's shoulders.

Holly tried to shake it off. Crawford lowered his voice and warned her that she was on the clock now and needed to cooperate.

They walked into the lavish dining room. At the far end of the long oak table sat Eleanor, his mother. She was taking a slow sip of red wine.

Eleanor set the glass down. Her cold eyes swept over Holly. She did not offer her a seat.

Crawford pulled out a chair for Holly. He sat down right next to her, trying to keep up the fake harmony.

Dinner began. The sound of silver forks hitting porcelain plates echoed sharply in the quiet room.

Eleanor wiped her mouth. She cut straight to the point. She demanded to know why there was no heir after three years of marriage.

She stated harshly that the prenuptial agreement had a strict heir clause. Holly was in breach of contract.

Holly's fingers tightened around her knife and fork. The mental pressure from the family matriarch felt suffocating.

Crawford took a drink of water. He tried to change the subject, mentioning the recent Wall Street mergers keeping him busy.

Eleanor cut him off without mercy. She threw a stack of tabloid photos onto the long table.

The photos scattered. They all showed Crawford frequently visiting the private rehab center to see Delphine.

Eleanor yelled at Crawford for being stupid. She accused him of dragging the family name through the mud for a crippled widow.

Crawford's face turned pale with rage. He slammed his hand on the table. He growled at his mother to stop insulting Delphine.

He lost his mind and argued back. He claimed Delphine was perfectly healthy. He said her medical reports showed she was completely fit to have children.

Those words hit the table like a bomb. The room went dead silent.

Holly felt her heart get crushed by an invisible hand. He was actually studying another woman's fertility reports.

Eleanor stared at her son in shock. Her body shook with anger. She told him he was out of his mind.

Holly suddenly let out a soft laugh. The sound was full of desperate mockery. It broke the frozen air.

She looked at Eleanor, her chin raised in defiance. Her voice was dead calm as she delivered her counterattack. "I am not a breeding machine," she stated coldly. "Perhaps the lack of an heir is simply nature's way of rejecting a completely loveless marriage."

Crawford heard those words. His jaw tightened so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. A flash of complex, dark emotion-something heavily guarded and deeply buried-crossed his eyes, replacing his initial shock with a sudden, volatile burst of defensive fury.

He grabbed Holly's arm. His grip was brutal enough to snap her bone. He ordered her to shut her mouth.

Eleanor caught her son's unnatural reaction. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Holly ignored the blinding pain in her arm. She stared right back at Crawford. Her eyes were full of defiance.

She stood up abruptly. She ripped her arm out of his grip and threw her napkin on the table.

She stated coldly that her stomach was cramping and she could not sit through this absurd trial anymore. She turned and walked out of the dining room.

Crawford tried to go after her. Eleanor's sharp voice stopped him dead. She ordered him to sit down and explain himself.

Holly walked alone down the cold, dark hallway of the estate. Her stomach twisted in violent knots from the emotional crash. She leaned against the wall, breaking out in a cold sweat.

The next morning, Holly woke up in the guest bedroom. Her face was pale, but the stomach cramps had dulled to a heavy ache.

The door was shoved open. Eleanor walked in wearing a pristine tailored suit. She looked down at Holly.

Eleanor threw a conservative Chanel suit onto the bed. She ordered Holly to put it on and get ready to leave.

Holly sat up, her guard instantly up. She asked where they were going. Eleanor replied coldly that they were going to see the crippled woman who was shaming the Morris family.

Holly clenched her fists. She refused. She stated she wanted no part in their sick love triangle.

Eleanor took a step closer. She threatened that if Holly did not go and claim her territory as the legal wife, she would unleash the family lawyers to bury Holly in debt and leave her with nothing.

Crushed by the absolute power of their wealth, Holly gritted her teeth and put on the suffocating clothes.

She walked out to the front of the estate. A black stretch Lincoln limo was idling by the fountain.

Crawford stood by the open door. His face was dark and dangerous. It was obvious his mother had forced him into this too.

He looked at Holly's outfit. Annoyance flashed in his eyes. He roughly pushed her into the back seat.

The door slammed shut. The limo rolled away from the estate. Eleanor did not get in. She sent her trusted bodyguards in a trailing car instead.

The cabin was massive, but they sat on opposite ends. The air felt like concrete.

Crawford suddenly hit a button. The soundproof glass partition rolled up, sealing the back seat off from the driver.

The second the glass clicked shut, Crawford yanked his tie loose. He viciously attacked Holly for talking garbage at the dinner table last night.

Holly leaned back into the leather seat. She let out a cold laugh. She asked him what exactly he was so terrified his mother would find out.

Crawford's eyes shifted. He forced the topic away. He warned her to keep her mouth shut when they got to Delphine.

He stressed that Delphine suffered from severe depression and could not handle any stress.

Holly found it absolutely ridiculous. She fired back, asking if he expected her to pour tea for his precious true love.

Crawford lunged forward. He grabbed Holly's jaw. His eyes burned with a sick obsession.

He ground his teeth, his voice a low, dangerous hiss. "Delphine sacrificed everything for this family," he growled. "You have absolutely no right to judge a situation you know nothing about."

Holly froze. The sheer weight of his blind defense felt like a physical blow to her chest.

But the shock did not kill her anger. She slapped his hand away hard, her skin stinging from the impact. "You're just using our marriage as a convenient shield to hide your messy, pathetic past," she accused sharply.

Her sharp words pushed Crawford over the edge. He shoved her hard against the car window.

The scenery blurred past outside. Holly's back hit the cold glass. A muffled groan escaped her lips.

He leaned into her ear. His voice was heavy with control. He told her that as long as he said no, she would never strip off the title of Mrs. Morris.

Holly stared right back into his eyes. Her gaze was filled with pure disgust. She called him a pathetic coward.

Just as Crawford raised his hand again, the limo slammed on the brakes. The car jerked to a stop in front of the luxury rehab center.

The momentum threw them apart. Crawford quickly adjusted his suit. He smoothed his hair, turning back into the perfect billionaire.

The bodyguard opened the door. Blinding sunlight flooded the cabin. Crawford put on a fake, gentle mask.

He held his hand out to Holly. He ordered her to get out of the car in a whisper only she could hear. The show was starting.