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.

Holly ignored Crawford's outstretched hand. She stepped out of the limo in her high heels, keeping her back straight.

Surrounded by bodyguards, they walked into the private rehab center. The place looked more like a five-star hotel than a hospital.

The elevator took them straight to the top floor. The head nurse respectfully pushed open a massive glass door. Inside was a sunlit conservatory filled with tropical plants.

Holly immediately spotted Delphine sitting in a wheelchair. She wore a pure white hospital gown, looking fragile and pitiful.

The second Crawford saw Delphine, the dark tension left his body. His steps naturally sped up.

He walked to the wheelchair and crouched down. His voice dropped to a gentle tone Holly had never heard before. He asked how she was feeling today.

Delphine offered a weak smile. Her eyes bypassed Crawford and locked dead onto Holly.

She covered her mouth in fake surprise. Her voice trembled as she said she didn't know Mrs. Morris was coming. She apologized for not being prepared to host.

Holly watched her cheap acting with cold eyes. She stood a few feet away. She replied coldly that she was just here to inspect the family's charity investments.

The words were a direct insult, calling Delphine a parasite living off the Morris money. Delphine's face stiffened instantly.

Crawford frowned hard. He stood up and blocked Delphine from view. He warned Holly to watch her mouth.

Delphine timed it perfectly. She grabbed the cuff of Crawford's shirt. Her eyes turned red. She whispered that she really was just a burden.

She suddenly started coughing violently. She gasped for air, looking like she was about to pass out.

Crawford panicked. He slammed the call button on the wall. He rubbed her back gently while glaring at Holly, blaming her for triggering the attack.

Holly watched the touching scene play out. Her stomach churned violently. The sight made her physically sick.

The medical team rushed in. They wheeled Delphine into the inner examination room. Crawford followed right behind them.

Holly stood alone in the middle of the conservatory. Surrounded by lush green plants, she looked like an unwanted outsider.

Ten minutes later, Crawford walked out of the inner room. He shut the door. His face was dark as he marched toward Holly.

He grabbed her wrist. He dragged her roughly into an empty lounge room next door.

He locked the door behind them. He shoved Holly against the solid wood door. He lowered his voice into a growl and asked if she was trying to kill Delphine.

Holly ripped her hand out of his grip. She mocked him. She told him if his heart hurt so much, he should submit the divorce papers to the court right now.

The word divorce lit a dark, uncontrollable fire in Crawford's eyes. He felt his absolute authority being fundamentally challenged.

He stared at Holly's stubborn, cold face. His gaze dropped from her defiant eyes to the slight tremble of her pale lips. The air between them thickened, suffocating and charged. He leaned in, his broad shadow entirely swallowing her smaller frame. The faint scent of her vanilla perfume clashed violently with the sterile hospital alcohol in the air. He suddenly dropped his head, his movement entirely devoid of hesitation. He crushed his lips against hers with brutal force.

There was absolutely zero warmth in the kiss. It was pure, unadulterated punishment and raw, terrifying possession. The impact forced a sharp gasp from her throat. It tasted like metallic blood, bitter anger, and a desperate need for control.

Holly's eyes widened in sheer panic before narrowing into pure fury. She fought back wildly. Her fists slammed into his solid chest, each strike fueled by years of pent-up resentment. But he anticipated her resistance. His large hand shot up, his fingers wrapping around both of her delicate wrists like an iron shackle, effortlessly pinning them against the solid wood above her head.

His other arm wrapped around her waist, crushing her body against his. He tried to force her to submit through sheer physical power.

Right then, the door handle rattled. A nurse's voice called out from the hallway, asking if Mr. Morris was in there.

Crawford froze, the authoritative voice from the hallway acting like a bucket of ice water. Reality crashed violently back into his brain, shattering the primal haze that had consumed him. He abruptly let go of Holly, taking a staggering step back, his chest heaving heavily as he tried to regain his composure.

Holly didn't hesitate for a microsecond. The moment her wrists were free, she channeled every ounce of her humiliation and rage into her right arm. She used the opening to strike. She swung her hand in a wide, vicious arc and slapped him across the face with everything she had. The sharp, explosive crack echoed loudly in the small, confined room, leaving a stinging vibration in her palm.

She watched the immediate aftermath, feeling no victory, only a deep, churning nausea. She aggressively wiped her bruised mouth with the back of her hand, trying to scrub away the lingering heat of his touch. She looked at his shocked profile as if he were nothing more than toxic trash. Her breathing was ragged, but her voice was deadly quiet when she spat out one final sentence. "You make me sick."