Ellyn walked back into the ballroom. It felt like walking into a lion's den without a whip.

She found her place card at the long banquet table. It was at the far end, near the kitchen doors. Hardy's seat at the head of the table was empty.

She sat down. Directly across from her sat Dian Burnett, Hardy's mother.

Dian took a sip of her wine, her eyes cold over the rim of the glass.

"Where is my son?" Dian asked.

"He had business to attend to," Ellyn said, unfolding her napkin.

"Business named Izabella, I assume," Dian said loudly. The guests nearby fell silent. "Thank God. Someone needs to bring some pedigree back to this family. Some fabrics are just... polyester. No matter how much you tailor them."

Ellyn gripped her silverware. The metal dug into her palms.

"I hope the Pennington bankruptcy proceedings are going well," Dian continued, slicing her steak aggressively. "It must be hard, knowing your father is spending your allowance on horse races."

Laughter rippled down the table.

Ellyn stood up. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"Excuse me," she said.

"Leaving so soon?" Dian smiled. "Don't let the door hit you."

Ellyn walked out. She didn't run, but it was close. She pushed through the French doors onto the terrace, gasping for air. The night was humid, the sky threatening rain.

She walked to the far end of the garden, into the shadows of the hedges. She needed to hide.

Voices drifted from the other side of the greenery. A group of debutantes, smoking.

"Did you see Hardy leave? He practically ran to the valet."

"Izabella is winning. I heard he's buying back the penthouse for her."

"Ellyn is a joke. A placeholder. Everyone knows she trapped him with that pregnancy scare three years ago."

Ellyn wrapped her arms around herself. A joke. That's all she was.

She turned to go back inside and collided with a body.

Sloane blocked her path.

"Eavesdropping?" Sloane smirked. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"Get out of my way, Sloane."

"Hardy doesn't love you," Sloane hissed, stepping closer. "He defended you earlier to save face. But tonight? He's with her. He's probably buying her diamonds right now."

"At least I have the ring," Ellyn said, her voice shaking. "You're just a spectator."

Sloane raised a hand to shove her.

Ellyn sidestepped. Sloane stumbled, her high heel sinking into the soft earth of the flowerbed. She flailed, grabbing a rosebush. Thorns tore at her expensive dress.

Ellyn didn't stop. She walked deeper into the terrace, toward the stone balustrade overlooking the city.

She needed silence.

But she didn't get it.

From the dark corner of the terrace, a familiar voice drifted on the wind. Low. Baritone.

Hardy.

Ellyn froze, pressing her back against a marble pillar.

"Hardy, please," a woman sobbed. Izabella.

"Stop crying, Bella," Hardy's voice was weary, accompanied by the flick of a lighter. Smoke drifted around the pillar.

"I regret leaving," Izabella wept. "I was scared. Your mother... she said you would hate me if I stayed. I thought you would wait for me."

Ellyn held her breath.

"You left," Hardy said. "You chose Europe."

"I was forced! You know how Dian is!" Izabella's voice rose. "I want my place back, Hardy. I want us back. That woman... Ellyn... she's nothing. She's dull. She doesn't know you like I do."

Silence.

Ellyn waited for him to defend her. To say she's my wife. To say I love her.

The silence stretched. One second. Two. Ten.

Hardy didn't deny it.

"I will take care of you, Bella," Hardy said finally. "I owe you that much."

"I don't want money! I want you!"

There was a rustle of fabric. Izabella was moving closer to him.

Ellyn felt bile rise in her throat. She pushed off the pillar, turning blindly to run.

Her elbow knocked into a heavy ceramic planter.

Thud.

"Who's there?" Hardy's voice was sharp, alert.

Ellyn panicked. She couldn't be found here. Not now.

A hand shot out from the shadows of a recessed doorway. It grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the darkness.

She collided with a solid chest. A hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shh," a voice whispered in her ear.

She looked up. Fritz Burnett. Hardy's younger brother. His eyes were kind, worried.

"Don't make a sound," Fritz mouthed.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel. Hardy appeared in the opening, his eyes scanning the terrace. Izabella trailed behind him, wiping her eyes.

Fritz stepped forward, shielding Ellyn with his body, but keeping his arm around her shoulders.

"Fritz?" Hardy stopped. His eyes dropped to Fritz's hand on Ellyn.

The atmosphere curdled. The weariness vanished from Hardy's face, replaced by a sudden, violent tension.

"We were just talking," Fritz said casually. "Ellyn needed some fresh air."

"Talking," Hardy repeated. He looked at Ellyn. "In the dark?"

Izabella stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Oh my. Were we interrupting something intimate?"

Ellyn pulled away from Fritz. "No. I was just-"

"Come here," Hardy interrupted. His voice was a command. "Ellyn. Now."