The bathtub was carved from a single piece of black marble. It was deep enough to drown in.

Alivia sank until the water lapped at her chin. The heat soaked into her bones, but it couldn't melt the knot of tension in her stomach.

She raised her hand, staring at the water dripping from her fingers. No bruises. No marks.

She climbed out, wrapping herself in a towel that was softer than anything she had ever owned. On the vanity, a set of silk pajamas lay folded. Pearl white. Her size.

She dressed quickly and hurried into the bedroom, diving under the duvet. She fumbled for her phone and dialed Arianna.

"Liv!" Arianna's face filled the screen. "Oh my god, are you okay? Blink twice if you need a SWAT team."

"I'm... I'm okay," Alivia whispered, pulling the blanket over her head. "Ari, you won't believe it."

"Did he hurt you? Is he hideous?"

"No. He's... he's gorgeous."

Arianna's jaw dropped. "What? Are you suffering from Stockholm Syndrome already?"

"I'm serious. He's young. He looks like... like a god, Ari. It was all a lie. The rumors, everything."

"Wait, so you're telling me you're married to a hot billionaire who lives in a penthouse?"

"It's not that simple. He's terrifying. He looks at me like he's trying to solve a puzzle."

Suddenly, a soft chime sounded from a sleek intercom panel on the wall near her door. Alivia jumped, nearly dropping her phone.

Gideon's voice, calm and clear, filled the room. "Finish your call."

Alivia scrambled to sit up, her heart pounding. How did he know? "My... my friend. Arianna."

"I know," the voice from the intercom replied, a hint of impatience in it. "Come to the study when you are done. Now."

The intercom went silent.

Alivia grabbed the phone and whispered, "I have to go," before hanging up on a stunned Arianna.

She walked barefoot down the hallway. The floor was heated. Everything in this house was designed for comfort, yet it felt like a fortress.

The study doors were heavy oak. She pushed them open.

Gideon was sitting behind a desk that looked like it belonged in the Oval Office. He was still wearing his white dress shirt, top button undone, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms.

He didn't look up from his tablet. He slid a black metal card across the mahogany surface.

It spun and stopped right at the edge, in front of her.

"Take it."

Alivia looked at the card. An American Express Centurion. The Black Card.

"I don't need money," she said. "I have my allowance from-"

"Your father cut you off the moment you signed the contract," Gideon said flatly. "And you are a Blackburn now. My wife does not count pennies."

"I can't accept this. It's too much."

Gideon finally looked up. His eyes were cold. "It's not a request. It's a requirement. You need clothes. You need books. You need to exist in this city without looking like a refugee."

Alivia flinched at the word.

Gideon stood up. He walked around the desk.

"And one more thing." He stopped in front of her. "Stop calling me 'Mr. Blackburn' in your head."

"I didn't say it out loud."

"I can hear it in your hesitation." He reached out, tucking a stray lock of damp hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her jaw. "Call me Husband."

Alivia's face burned. "I... I can't."

"Try."

His thumb brushed her lower lip. The sensation was maddening.

"Husband," she squeaked.

Gideon's eyes darkened. A flash of satisfaction crossed his face.

"Better," he murmured. "Go to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

He turned his back on her, dismissing her as easily as he had summoned her.

Alivia grabbed the card and fled the room, her heart racing so fast she thought it might explode.

The next morning, Alivia stood in front of the walk-in closet. It was filled with clothes, but none of them were hers. Rows of designer dresses, blouses, and skirts.

She found her old grey hoodie in the back, shoved in a laundry hamper. She pulled it out and put it on. It was her armor.

When she got downstairs, a sleek silver Audi A8 was waiting. Not the Escalade.

"Mr. Blackburn thought this would be more discreet for campus," the driver, a man named Silas with a neck as thick as a tree trunk, said as he opened the door.

They drove to NYU in silence. Silas stopped two blocks away, as she requested.

"Thank you," she mumbled, hopping out.

She pulled her hood up and adjusted her glasses. Just be invisible. Like always.

But the campus was buzzing.

"That's her," someone whispered. "The one who married the monster."

"I heard he keeps her in a cage."

Alivia kept her head down, walking fast.

"Well, look who let the dog out."

Alivia froze. Kacy was sitting at a patio table outside the coffee shop, holding court with her minions. Madison, a girl who had made Alivia's freshman year a living hell, was laughing.

"Did he let you out for a walk, Alivia?" Madison sneered. "Or did you escape?"

Alivia tried to walk past them.

Kacy stuck her foot out.

Alivia saw it coming, but she was too slow. She tripped, stumbling forward. Her backpack slid off her shoulder, spilling her textbooks onto the pavement.

Laughter erupted around them.

"So clumsy," Kacy said, sipping her latte. "Maybe the monster blinded her."

Madison walked over and placed her stiletto heel right on the cover of Alivia's organic chemistry notebook.

"Oops," Madison smiled. "Trash belongs on the ground."

Alivia stared at the heel. She stared at the notebook.

Something inside her snapped.

Maybe it was the black card burning a hole in her pocket. Maybe it was the memory of Gideon's voice saying, You are a Blackburn.

Alivia stood up. She didn't brush off her knees. She didn't fix her glasses.

She looked straight at Kacy.

"Move your foot," Alivia said.

Kacy blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Tell your lapdog to move her foot off my property." Alivia's voice was steady. Cold.

Madison looked at Kacy, unsure.

"Or what?" Kacy laughed. "You'll tell your daddy? Oh wait, Daddy sold you."

"No," Alivia said. She took a step toward Kacy. "I won't tell Daddy. But maybe I should tell everyone here why Daddy had to sell me."

Kacy's smile faltered. "Shut up."

"Is it because Clemons Industries is on the verge of collapse?" Alivia asked, her voice rising just enough to be heard by the surrounding tables. "Is it because you spent the employee pension fund on your trips to Monaco? I've heard Father on the phone late at night. The vultures are circling."

The laughter died instantly. Whispers broke out.

"You're lying!" Kacy hissed, standing up. Her face was pale.

"Am I?" Alivia tilted her head. "Check the stock price, Kacy. It's been in freefall for a month."

Kacy looked like she had been slapped.

Madison quickly stepped off the notebook, backing away from the toxicity radiating from Kacy.

Alivia bent down, picked up her book, and dusted it off. She looked at her sister one last time.

"Stay out of my way."

She turned and walked toward the lecture hall. Her hands were shaking, but her head was high.

Two blocks away, in the parked Audi, Silas pressed a button on his phone.

"She handled it, sir."

In his office at the top of the Blackburn Tower, Gideon watched the live feed from the campus security camera on his tablet.

A slow, dark smile spread across his face.

"Good girl."

Professor Lowe was a fossil of a man who believed that tardiness was a moral failing.

"The Krebs cycle waits for no one," he droned, scribbling on the whiteboard.

Alivia sat in the middle row, trying to focus. But the back of her neck was prickling.

The door banged open.

Preston Lowe sauntered in. He was the Professor's son, a frat boy with too much hair gel and a reputation for not taking 'no' for an answer.

"Mr. Lowe," the Professor sighed. "Nice of you to join us."

"Traffic was a bitch," Preston muttered, sliding into the seat directly behind Alivia.

He leaned forward. Alivia could smell stale beer and expensive cologne.

"Nice hoodie," he whispered. "Hiding the bruises?"

Alivia gripped her pen. Ignore him.

"I heard your husband is a freak," Preston continued, his voice low and wet against her ear. "Does he even know how to use it? Or do you need a real man to show you?"

Alivia's pen snapped. Ink bled onto her fingers.

She shifted away, but Preston kicked the back of her chair.

"Don't be shy, sugar baby. We all know what you are. You're just a high-priced whore."

Alivia spun around, ready to scream, but Professor Lowe turned from the board.

"Miss Clemons? Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," Alivia gritted out.

Preston smirked. "She's just excited about biology, Dad."

Alivia turned back, her face burning. She felt dirty.

High above the city, Gideon's hand froze over a document.

He was listening. He had bugged her backpack. Not because he didn't trust her, but because he didn't trust the world with her.

He heard every word.

Whore.

The pencil in Gideon's hand snapped in two.

He hit the intercom. "Finn."

Finn appeared in the doorway three seconds later. "Yeah?"

"Preston Lowe. NYU. Senior."

"I know him. Dad's a professor. Kid's a waste of space."

"Cut it," Gideon said. His voice was devoid of emotion, which made it terrifying.

"Cut what?"

"Everything. His credit cards. His trust fund. And find out who funds Professor Lowe's research lab."

Finn typed on his tablet. "Uh, looks like a grant from the Blackburn Foundation."

"Cancel it."

Finn looked up. "Boss, that's a two-million-dollar grant. The university will flip."

"I don't care. Cancel it. And tell the Dean I want to donate a new library wing. On one condition."

"Which is?"

"Preston Lowe is expelled."

Finn whistled. "You're going nuclear over a frat boy?"

Gideon looked at the broken pencil on his desk.

"He made her feel unsafe. Nuclear is the only option."

Back in the classroom, Alivia was packing her bag. The bell had rung.

Preston stood up, blocking her path to the aisle.

"So, about that tutorial," he leered, reaching for her arm.

"Don't touch me," Alivia said.

"Come on, Liv. I can pay. Not as much as the monster, but-"

Suddenly, Preston's phone buzzed. Then it buzzed again. And again.

He pulled it out. "What the hell?"

He stared at the screen. "Card declined? Account frozen?"

He looked up, confused.

Alivia took the opportunity to shove past him.

"Move, Preston."

She walked out of the room, leaving him staring at his phone, his life crumbling around him, though he didn't know why yet.