"Granddame!" Mrs. Higgins screamed.

The old woman fell backward, her chair tipping over with a crash.

Ezequiel forgot his bleeding head instantly. He vaulted over the fallen chair and caught her just before her head hit the floor.

"Call 911!" he roared at the staff.

Claudia was already moving. She pushed past the paralyzed maids and dropped to her knees beside the old woman.

"Lay her flat," she commanded, her voice sharp and authoritative. "Undo her collar."

Ezequiel looked at her, surprised by the sudden change in her demeanor. He hesitated.

"Do it!" she yelled.

He obeyed, fumbling with the high lace collar of her dress. Claudia placed two fingers against her carotid artery.

"No pulse," she muttered. "She's in cardiac arrest. Get the AED from the medical room. Now!"

She interlocked her fingers, placed the heel of her hand on the center of Granddame's chest, and began compressions.

One, two, three, four.

"Stay with us," Claudia whispered, her hair falling into her face as she pumped. "Come on, Granddame."

The house doctor arrived two minutes later with the crash cart. He took over compressions while Claudia grabbed the ambu-bag to ventilate. They worked in tandem, a seamless medical unit, while Ezequiel stood pressed against the wall, pale and useless.

By the time the paramedics arrived to transport her to the on-site medical suite-the estate was equipped like a mini-hospital-they had a rhythm back. It was weak, but it was there.

Ezequiel stood in the hallway outside her room, pressing a handkerchief to the cut on his forehead. The blood had dried into a dark crust.

He stared at the closed door, then turned his gaze to Claudia.

"If she dies," he said, his voice shaking, "it's on you."

"On me?" Claudia laughed, a hysterical, bubbling sound. "You're the one who screamed at her. You're the one who defended the woman who abandoned you."

Ezequiel stepped forward, towering over her. "Don't you dare talk about Alexa."

"The doctor said she needs absolute calm," Dr. Evans emerged from the room, interrupting them. He looked grave. "Her heart is operating at thirty percent capacity. Any shock, any stress, any emotional upheaval could be fatal. Do you understand?"

He looked pointedly at Ezequiel. "No arguments. No bad news."

Ezequiel swallowed hard. He nodded.

The doctor left. Ezequiel leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"We can't divorce," he said.

The words hung in the air.

"What?" Claudia asked.

He opened his eyes. They were dull, defeated. "Grandmother thinks we're still married. If I tell her I'm leaving you... if I introduce Alexa now... it will kill her."

Claudia's heart hammered against her ribs. This was a trap. If she stayed, living in the same house with him, how long could she hide the pregnancy? Her belly would start to show in weeks.

But she had no choice.

"Fine," she said. "We pause the divorce."

"Until she recovers," he added quickly. "Three months. Maybe four."

"And the loan?" she asked. She saw her opening and took it. "The divorce is paused, but Valentine Group still needs that money tomorrow."

Ezequiel looked at her with renewed disgust. "Is that all you care about? Money?"

"It's all you've left me," she shot back. "I'll play the loving wife. I'll live here. I'll hold your hand in front of her. But you transfer the two hundred million to my father's company account by 9:00 AM."

He stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to reconcile the woman bargaining with him with the silent wife he thought he knew.

"Done," he spat. "Sterling will handle it."

He pushed himself off the wall and walked away toward the guest wing. He didn't look back.

Claudia slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She had won the money. She had saved the company. But she had just locked herself in a cage with the man who wanted to destroy her.

It was past midnight when Mrs. Higgins tapped on the door of the guest room Claudia had claimed.

"She's asking for you," she whispered.

Claudia wrapped her silk robe tight around her waist, double-knotting the belt to obscure her figure, and went to Granddame's room.

The room was dim, lit only by the monitors beeping softly. Granddame looked small in the massive bed, her skin grey against the white sheets.

She waved her hand feebly, dismissing the nurse.

"Come here, child," she rasped.

Claudia approached the bed and took her cold, paper-thin hand. "I'm here, Granddame."

She squeezed Claudia's fingers with surprising strength. Her eyes opened, clear and sharp.

"I know you lied," she whispered.

Claudia's breath hitched. "Granddame, I-"

"Hush." She cut her off. "I know you are not happy. I see the way you look when he is not in the room. You are fading, Claudia. You are sick with misery."

Tears pricked Claudia's eyes. She nodded, unable to speak. The old woman didn't know about the baby, but she saw the pain. That was enough.

"He is a fool," Granddame said softly. "Blinded by that woman. But you... you have strength. I saw you today. You saved me."

"I just did what I had to do."

"You did more than that." Granddame pulled her closer. "Listen to me. If it becomes too much... if you need to leave before I am gone... I will help you. I have accounts in France he doesn't know about."

"France?"

"Go there. Study. Live. Don't let him crush you."

"I can't leave yet," Claudia whispered. "Not while you're like this."

"Stubborn girl." A small smile touched Granddame's lips. "Just remember. You have options. You are not a prisoner."

The door handle turned.

They pulled apart instantly. Ezequiel walked in. He had changed into fresh clothes, but he looked haggard.

He saw Claudia sitting by the bed and frowned. "You should be resting, Grandmother."

"I wanted to talk to my granddaughter-in-law," she said, her voice weak again.

Ezequiel looked at their joined hands. A flicker of something-jealousy? exclusion?-crossed his face.

"I'll take you home," he said to Claudia. "Or... to your room."

"I'm staying at my father's house tonight," Claudia said quickly. "To pick up some things. And to check on the house."

He nodded stiffly. "I'll drive you."

The car ride was suffocating. Ezequiel drove fast, the sports car tearing down the highway.

Claudia clutched the door handle, her other hand over her stomach. "Slow down," she murmured.

He glanced at her. "What?"

"Slow down!" she shouted. "I get carsick."

He slammed on the brakes, slowing the car to a crawl. He looked at her, really looked at her, in the dim light of the dashboard.

"You've been sick a lot lately," he said slowly. "Carsick. Food poisoning. Gastritis."

"I have a weak stomach," she said, staring out the window. "And your driving doesn't help."

"The money will be in the account tomorrow," he said, changing the subject.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's a transaction."

He pulled up to the curb of the Valentine townhouse. She got out without looking back.

Inside the empty house, Claudia didn't sleep. She paced the floor, packing a small bag, checking her phone every ten minutes for updates on her father. The house felt like a mausoleum, filled with the ghosts of her family's former glory.

As dawn broke, she washed her face, drank a glass of water, and called a cab to take her back to the hospital. She couldn't face Ezequiel again yet. She needed to be where she was needed.

Inside his car, Ezequiel watched the house lights go on, then drove away. He dialed Sterling.

"Transfer the money," he said. "And Sterling? I want a full audit of the Valentine Group. And get me the security footage from the hospital. I want to know exactly where my wife went yesterday."

The morning sun streamed into the hospital corridor, a stark contrast to the gloom of the previous night. Claudia sat on a bench outside her father's room, eating a stale sandwich from the vending machine. She felt grimy and exhausted, the stress of the last twenty-four hours settling into her bones.

"Claudia?"

The voice was warm, familiar, like a favorite song from childhood.

She looked up. Standing there, holding a bouquet of yellow tulips, was Jaylen Craft.

Jaylen. Her neighbor growing up. Her best friend before marriage and duty tore her away. He had moved to Silicon Valley five years ago and made a fortune in tech.

"Jaylen?" Claudia stood up, the sandwich forgotten.

He smiled, and it was like the sun coming out. "I heard about your dad. I flew in as soon as I could."

"You came back?"

"For you? Always."

Tears welled in her eyes again-her hormones were a wreck. She stepped forward, and he opened his arms. She buried her face in his chest. He smelled of clean soap and rain, nothing like the heavy, expensive scents of Ezequiel's world.

"I'm so tired, Jay," she whispered into his shirt.

"I know, Claud. I know. I've got you."

He rubbed her back soothingly. For the first time in days, she felt safe.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened.

Ezequiel stepped out. He was holding a large arrangement of lilies-probably a token gesture for her father, or maybe he was on his way to see Alexa again and got off on the wrong floor.

He stopped dead.

His eyes locked onto them. Claudia saw his pupils contract. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek.

She pulled away from Jaylen, guilt flushing her cheeks even though she had done nothing wrong.

Ezequiel walked toward them, his strides long and predatory. He didn't look at Claudia. He looked at Jaylen.

"And who might this be?" Ezequiel asked, his voice dropping to a temperature that could freeze water.

Jaylen didn't back down. He straightened his jacket and met Ezequiel's gaze. "Jaylen Craft. An old friend."

"Craft," Ezequiel repeated. "The tech guy."

"That's right."

"What are you doing hugging my wife?"

"Comforting her," Jaylen said smoothly. "Since her husband seems to be absent."

Ezequiel's eyes flashed. He dropped the flowers onto a nearby chair-carelessly, ruining the petals-and stepped between them. He claimed the space with aggressive dominance.

He reached out and wrapped his arm around Claudia's waist, pulling her hard against his side. His large hand splayed possessively over her stomach.

Her breath hitched. His hand was right there. Right over the baby.

"She is my wife," Ezequiel snarled. "She doesn't need comfort from outsiders."

"She looks like she needs a lot of things she isn't getting," Jaylen retorted, glancing at Ezequiel's hand on her with distaste.

"Get out of here," Ezequiel said. "Before I have security throw you out."

"I'm leaving," Jaylen said. He looked at Claudia, his eyes soft. "Call me if you need anything, Claudia. Anything at all."

He turned and walked toward the elevators.

Ezequiel watched him go, his body vibrating with tension. He didn't let go of her. His hand tightened on her stomach.

"Is he the reason?" Ezequiel whispered in her ear.

"What?"

"Is he the reason you want the divorce? So you can run back to your childhood sweetheart?"

"You're the one who wanted the divorce!" she cried, trying to pry his fingers off her.

"Maybe I changed my mind," he muttered, looking at where Jaylen had disappeared. "Maybe I don't like other men touching what belongs to me."