The black Rolls-Royce glided to a stop in front of the red carpet. Camera flashes exploded like lightning, capturing the arrival of Silicon Valley's most powerful couple.

Kendrick stepped out first. He extended a hand, his face the picture of absolute devotion. Cora placed her hand in his and let him guide her out of the car.

The moment her heels touched the marble floors of the Metropolitan Museum's grand hall, she felt the weight of a hundred eyes on her. The air was thick with the smell of expensive perfume and raw jealousy.

Within seconds, Kendrick was cornered by three Wall Street executives. He squeezed Cora's waist, whispered an apology, and stepped away, leaving her standing alone near a towering champagne pyramid.

Before she could even grab a glass, a group of women in designer silk moved in. They formed a tight circle around her, backing her into the corner of the room.

Chelsea, the heiress of a legacy real estate family, stood at the front. She snapped her decorative fan shut and looked Cora up and down with disgust.

"No matter how much Kendrick spends on you," Chelsea said loudly, her voice carrying over the music, "you can never wash off the stench of the Rust Belt, can you?"

A chorus of sharp, mocking laughter erupted from the women. Cora gripped her champagne flute. Her knuckles turned stark white.

Chelsea took a step closer, her eyes gleaming with malice. "I heard your brother is a convict. Tell me, Cora, how exactly did a slum rat like you climb into Kendrick Pope's bed? What kind of tricks did you have to perform?"

Cora's chest heaved. She looked Chelsea dead in the eye. "My brother's mistakes are his own. But at least my family isn't filing for Chapter 11 under the Bankruptcy Code this week, Chelsea. How is the liquidation going?"

Chelsea's face flushed a violent, ugly red. The humiliation snapped her control. She raised her glass of red wine and violently hurled the liquid straight at Cora's face.

Cora gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

But the wine never hit her.

Just as Chelsea's wrist flicked forward, Cora saw a blur of motion from the periphery of her vision. Kendrick's head had snapped toward the commotion. His eyes widened in absolute horror. He violently shoved past a stunned hedge fund manager, his expensive dress shoes skidding against the polished marble floor. He lunged across the open space, throwing his body directly between Cora and the incoming liquid.

He crashed into her, a solid, warm chest that smelled of cold cedarwood, taking the entire glass of red wine directly to the back of his light grey suit jacket.

The entire grand hall went dead silent. The music seemed to stop. Everyone stared in absolute horror at the tech giant.

Kendrick slowly took off his ruined jacket. He wrapped it gently around Cora's trembling shoulders, his hands lingering on her arms to make sure she wasn't hurt.

Then, he turned around. He looked at Chelsea. His eyes were completely hollow, like he was looking at a corpse.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. He put it on speaker.

"Pull every single bridge loan we have with Chelsea's family," Kendrick ordered, his voice echoing in the silent room. "Liquidate their assets by morning."

Chelsea's knees buckled. She collapsed onto the marble floor, sobbing hysterically and begging for mercy. Two massive security guards grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out of the hall like a piece of trash.

The surrounding socialites turned pale, staring at the floor, terrified to even breathe.

Kendrick wrapped his arm tightly around Cora's waist. He looked around the room. "If anyone touches my wife, you deal with the Pope Consortium."

A wave of nervous, fake applause broke out. Cora leaned against his chest. Her heart swelled with a sudden, overwhelming sense of safety. He had protected her.

Kendrick guided her away from the crowd, leading her up the grand staircase to a dimly lit VIP balcony on the second floor.

"Kendrick, thank you," Cora started, looking up at him.

Before the words fully left her mouth, Kendrick lunged forward. He slammed her back against the freezing marble railing. His hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist like an iron vice. He squeezed so hard Cora felt her bones grinding together.

"Don't you ever provoke people in public again," Kendrick hissed, his face inches from hers, his eyes burning with a psychotic rage. "Do you understand? You could have been physically injured!"

Cora gasped in pain, tears springing to her eyes. She stared at his twisted, furious face. The warmth in her chest turned to pure ice.

He wasn't defending her dignity. He was furious that her physical body-her organs-had been put at risk.

Kendrick felt her shaking violently. He looked down at his hand crushing her wrist. He blinked, and the rage vanished. He let go instantly.

He grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to the angry red marks on her skin. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Cora. I just... I can't stand the thought of anything damaging you."

Cora nodded numbly, forcing herself to swallow the bile rising in her throat. Her stomach cramped with fear.

"I need to use the restroom," she whispered, pulling her hand away. Without waiting for his answer, she turned and practically ran down the dark hallway, desperate to escape his presence.

Cora stumbled into the women's restroom and slammed the heavy wooden door shut. She rushed to the marble sink, turned on the cold water, and splashed it violently onto her pale face.

She gripped the edge of the sink, staring at her bloodshot eyes in the mirror. Her chest heaved as she dragged air into her lungs.

After a minute, she grabbed a paper towel, dried her face, and pushed the door open to leave.

The hallway outside was dimly lit by antique wall sconces. She kept her head down, smoothing the silk of her dress, when she slammed hard into a solid chest.

A sharp scent hit her nose-a harsh mix of medical bleach and cheap tobacco.

Cora gasped and stumbled backward. A strong hand shot out, gripping her elbow firmly to keep her from falling.

She snapped her head up and locked eyes with a pair of amber irises. The man was staring down at her with a cynical, mocking smirk. It was Cayden Logan.

He was wearing a black velvet suit jacket, completely unbuttoned, looking entirely out of place in the formal, rigid environment of the gala.

He let out a low whistle, his eyes raking over her expensive gown with blatant disrespect.

Cora felt her skin crawl. She yanked her arm out of his grip. "Thank you," she said coldly, stepping to the side to walk past him.

Cayden shifted his weight, intentionally blocking her path. The smirk on his face deepened.

He leaned down, his mouth hovering just inches from her ear. "That dress looks expensive," he whispered. "It looks exactly like a very high-end body bag."

Cora's eyes went wide. She shoved his chest hard. "Excuse me? You are completely out of your mind."

Cayden didn't move. He chuckled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a silver Zippo lighter. He flipped it open and shut, the metallic clack echoing in the quiet hallway.

His eyes suddenly lost their humor. He looked at her with the cold, clinical assessment of a doctor.

"Look at your nail beds, Cora. Look at the pallor of your skin," Cayden said, his voice dropping an octave, his amber eyes piercing right through her defenses. "Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. Look at what he feeds you. You're not his partner, sweetheart. You're his personal pharmacy."

The words medical specimen hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. A violent shudder ripped through her spine. The image of the needle piercing her vein that morning flashed behind her eyes, followed by the metallic taste of the neon-green supplement. Her mind raced, desperately trying to connect the dots. Pharmacy? Is he harvesting my blood? My plasma?

All the color drained from Cora's face. Her knees went weak. She pressed her back against the wall, her teeth biting down so hard on her lip she tasted copper. She refused to scream.

Cayden watched her panic. A flicker of something complex-something like regret-flashed in his amber eyes, but he instantly buried it under his arrogant smirk.

The heavy thud of combat boots echoed from the end of the hallway. Kendrick's security detail was coming for her.

Cayden moved with lightning speed. He reached out and slipped a stiff, black business card deep into the hidden pocket of her silk gown.

He immediately stepped back, creating a massive gap between them. He raised his voice, adopting a sleazy, drunken tone. "I must say, Mrs. Pope, your perfume is absolutely intoxicating."

Two massive men in black suits rounded the corner. Their eyes locked onto Cayden, their hands instinctively dropping to their holstered weapons. They stepped in front of Cora, shielding her.

"Identify yourself," the lead guard barked.

Cayden raised both hands in the air, a lazy smile on his face. "Relax, boys. Just a lost doctor trying to find the bar."

He gave Cora one last, piercing look, then turned and sauntered down the stairs, disappearing into the shadows.

The guard turned to Cora, his face completely devoid of emotion. "Mr. Pope is waiting, madam. He is getting anxious."

Cora reached down, her fingers gripping the sharp edges of the black card hidden in her pocket. Her palm was slick with cold sweat.

She took a deep breath, pasted the perfect, blank smile back onto her face, and followed the guards back into the blinding lights of the grand hall.

Kendrick was standing by the bar. The moment he saw her, his dark eyes scanned her body like a spotlight, searching for any sign of damage.

Cora walked up to him, forcing herself to hold his gaze, while her heart hammered violently against her ribs.

The Maybach sped through the dark streets of San Francisco. The air inside the cabin was so thick and heavy it felt hard to breathe.

Kendrick sat beside her, his eyes closed, his head resting against the leather seat. Suddenly, his nose twitched. He inhaled sharply.

His eyes snapped open. He turned his head, locking his gaze onto Cora. His eyes were completely black, devoid of any human warmth.

"Why do you smell like cheap tobacco and medical bleach?" Kendrick demanded, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly quiet whisper.

Cora's heart stopped. The black card in her pocket felt like it was burning a hole through her skin.

She swallowed hard, forcing her hands to stay still in her lap. "I bumped into a drunk doctor in the hallway outside the restroom. He spilled his drink."

Kendrick stared at her. He didn't blink. The silence stretched for ten agonizing seconds. Then, he let out a soft chuckle. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Next time you see garbage like that, let the guards handle it," he said softly. "I don't want you getting dirty."

The car fell silent again, but Cora could feel the icy rage radiating from his body.

The moment the car pulled up to the estate, Kendrick didn't go to his study. He grabbed Cora's wrist and pulled her straight up the stairs and into the master bathroom.

He didn't say a word. He grabbed the collar of her custom Hermes gown and ripped it violently down the middle.

Cora screamed, crossing her arms over her chest as the ruined silk fell to the floor. She backed away, terrified of the manic look in her husband's eyes.

Kendrick reached into the shower and turned the water on full blast. He didn't wait for it to warm up. He grabbed her arm and dragged her under the freezing spray.

He pumped a massive amount of body wash into his hands and began scrubbing her skin. He scrubbed the exact spot on her arm where Cayden had touched her. He scrubbed so hard her skin turned a raw, angry red.

"Kendrick, stop! It hurts!" Cora cried out, trying to pull away.

He slammed her back against the cold tile wall, pinning her in place. "Shh, sweetheart," he whispered in her ear, his voice sickeningly sweet over the sound of the rushing water. "We just need to get you clean. You have to stay pure."

When he was finally satisfied, he wrapped her shivering body in a thick towel and carried her to the bed.

He walked over to the medical lockbox and pulled out two large white pills and a glass of warm water. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"You had a shock tonight," Kendrick said, holding the pills out. "Take your nutritional supplements. They'll help you sleep."

Cora stared at the pills. She shook her head violently, pressing herself against the headboard. "No. I don't want them. I'm fine."

Kendrick's jaw clenched. His patience evaporated. He reached out, his large hand gripping her jaw like a vice, forcing her mouth open. He shoved the pills to the back of her throat and poured the water in.

Cora choked, coughing violently as the pills slid down her esophagus. A strange, heavy heat immediately bloomed in her stomach.

Kendrick grabbed a tissue and gently wiped the water from her chin. He leaned in and kissed her lips.

The drugs hit her bloodstream fast. Cora's vision swam. Her arms and legs felt like they were filled with wet sand. She clawed at the bedsheets, fighting desperately to keep her eyes open, but her brain was shutting down.

Through her half-closed eyelids, she saw Kendrick stand up. He unbuttoned his shirt, but he didn't get into bed.

He stood over her. His eyes slowly traveled down her body, stopping at her waist. He stared at the exact spot where her major veins pulsed beneath her translucent, pale skin.

It wasn't the look of a husband desiring his wife. It was the look of a butcher admiring a prime cut of meat.

A tear slipped out of the corner of Cora's eye as the absolute darkness pulled her under.

Kendrick sneered. He pulled the heavy duvet over her body, turned off the lights, and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him.