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.

The next morning, Kendrick kissed Cora's forehead, grabbed his briefcase, and walked out the door. He announced he was flying to Europe for a three-day merger negotiation.

The moment the motorcade cleared the front gates, Cora sprang into action. She found the butler in the kitchen.

"I'm doing yoga in the master bedroom," she said coldly. "Do not disturb me under any circumstances."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked upstairs. She kicked off her shoes and walked silently barefoot down the hall, slipping into Kendrick's private study.

The room was suffocating. Dark mahogany furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves made the space feel like a tomb.

Cora needed her passport and her ID. If she was going to run, she needed her documents.

She tore through the drawers of his massive desk. Nothing. Just corporate contracts and financial reports.

She turned around and spotted it. Hidden behind a row of leather-bound books was a flush-mounted German high-frequency electronic safe.

Cora knelt in front of it. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She punched in Kendrick's birthday.

BEEP. ERROR.

She bit her lip and typed in their wedding anniversary. The red light flashed again.

BEEP. ERROR. ONE ATTEMPT REMAINING. SYSTEM LOCKDOWN IMMINENT.

Cora wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. If the alarm triggered, the guards would be in the room in seconds.

She closed her eyes in despair. Then, she remembered the black business card Cayden had slipped into her dress.

She pulled it out of her pocket. She flipped it over. In the top right corner, barely visible under the light, was a six-digit number written in UV ink.

With trembling fingers, she punched the numbers into the keypad.

CLICK.

The heavy steel door popped open.

Cora let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She reached inside. There were no passports. There was only a thick manila envelope stamped with the logo of a top-tier private hospital in Palo Alto.

She ripped the seal open and pulled out a stack of medical documents.

There was no patient name on the file. But at the top of the page was the exact same hematology research code she had seen on the needle wrapper.

Cora's eyes scanned the dense medical jargon. Her gaze slammed into a bolded sentence at the bottom of the page:

EXTENSIVE BONE MARROW AND RARE ANTIBODY EXTRACTION FEASIBILITY: EXTREMELY HIGH. TOTAL HEMATOPOIETIC STEM CELL DEPLETION PROTOCOL APPROVED.

A bucket of ice water poured over her head. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the hard wood floor.

She kept reading. It detailed the surgical extraction plan and the post-operative immunosuppressant schedule.

Her mind scrambled to make sense of it. Kendrick was sick. Kendrick had some kind of catastrophic blood disease. That's why he was drawing her blood. That's why he was so obsessed with her health. He was going to drain her bone marrow and strip her of her stem cells to save his own life, a procedure so invasive it would leave her permanently crippled, if not dead.

A wave of profound grief and absolute terror hit her all at once. She slapped both hands over her mouth to muffle the sob tearing up her throat.

Heavy footsteps thudded in the hallway. The security captain was doing his rounds.

Cora snapped out of her shock. She frantically shoved the papers back into the envelope, threw it into the safe, and slammed the heavy metal door shut. It locked with a loud click.

She dove behind the thick velvet curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows just as the brass doorknob turned.

The security captain stepped into the study. His sharp eyes scanned the empty room.

Cora stood pressed against the glass, her hands clamped over her nose and mouth. She didn't dare breathe. Her heart was beating so violently she was sure he could hear it.

The captain tapped his earpiece. "Study is clear," he muttered. He stepped back out and locked the door behind him.

Cora slid down the wall, her back soaked in cold sweat. She stared at the locked safe. She had the proof, but she needed to know for sure. She had to get to that hospital.