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.

Cora woke up the next afternoon. Her head throbbed with a vicious migraine, and her muscles felt like they had been beaten with a hammer.

She shot up in bed, her hands flying to her waist. She ran her fingers frantically over her skin. No bandages. No surgical scars. She let out a ragged breath and collapsed back onto the pillows.

The memory of Kendrick staring at her veins, and Cayden's warning about the pharmacy, crashed into her mind. She shivered violently.

She couldn't stay here. She couldn't be a bird in a cage waiting to be slaughtered. She needed an excuse to leave the estate, to interact with the outside world.

Cora crawled out of bed and went to her closet. She dug past the rows of designer clothes to a battered old suitcase she had brought from Ohio. Hidden inside the lining was her old, cracked cell phone.

She waited until she heard the guards changing shifts outside her door. She slipped into the bathroom, turned the sink faucet on full blast to mask the sound, and powered on the phone.

She dialed the number for Emma, the owner of a small independent art gallery in the city where Cora used to work.

"Emma, please," Cora whispered rapidly into the receiver. "I need a job. Anything. Filing papers, cleaning the back room. I just need to work."

Emma, who had always loved Cora's eye for art, didn't hesitate. "Of course, Cora. You can start tomorrow."

Cora hung up the phone. A tiny spark of hope ignited in her chest. She powered off the device and shoved it back into the suitcase lining.

She changed into a simple sweater and jeans and walked out of the bedroom. She found the butler carrying a lunch tray up the stairs.

Cora squared her shoulders. "Tell Kendrick I got a job at an art gallery. I start tomorrow."

The butler's face went completely blank. He set the tray down on a side table, pulled a walkie-talkie from his belt, and walked to the corner of the hallway, whispering rapidly into it.

Five minutes later, the house landline rang. The butler picked it up, listened, and then handed the receiver to Cora. His eyes were filled with pity.

"Cora," Kendrick's voice came through the speaker, smooth and absolute. "You don't need to work. I provide everything you could ever want."

"I need to get out of this house, Kendrick," Cora said, her voice shaking but firm. "I need to do something with my life, or I'm going to lose my mind."

There was a long, terrifying silence on the other end. Then, Kendrick chuckled softly. "Alright, sweetheart. If it makes you happy, you can go."

Cora stared at the phone in shock. She slowly hung up the receiver. She had won. It felt too easy, but the relief washed over her anyway.

At two o'clock in the afternoon, her old phone buzzed in the closet. It was a voicemail from Emma.

Cora pressed the phone to her ear. Emma's voice was hysterical, choked with sobs.

"Cora, I'm so sorry! The IRS just raided the gallery. They're seizing everything. They said there was an anonymous tip about tax fraud. Please, don't ever call me again. I can't afford this kind of trouble!"

The phone slipped from Cora's hand, hitting the carpet with a dull thud.

The IRS. Kendrick had destroyed Emma's entire life in less than two hours just to keep Cora locked inside the house.

Pure, blinding rage eclipsed her fear. Cora bolted out of the bedroom, ran down the grand staircase, and sprinted out the front doors toward the driveway.

"Get the car!" she screamed at the driver. "Take me to the gallery now!"

Two massive security guards stepped in front of the car, crossing their arms. They looked at her like she was a ghost.

Cora slammed her fists against the guard's chest, trying to push past him. The guard didn't even flinch. He reached out with one hand and shoved her hard by the shoulder, pinning her in place.

The heavy iron gates of the estate swung open. Kendrick's black sedan rolled up the driveway and stopped right next to her.

Kendrick stepped out of the car. He waved the guards away. He walked up to Cora, his face perfectly calm. He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her earlobe. "The world out there is too dangerous for you, Cora. It's dirty. People get hurt."

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. "You belong here. You are my perfect wife. And you are never leaving this estate."

Cora stared at his handsome, twisted face. Her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees on the gravel, completely crushed under the weight of his absolute control.