Ellery set her heavy silver fork down on the porcelain plate. A sharp cramp seized her stomach.

She sat at the long mahogany dining table inside the Sutton family's Long Island estate. The room smelled of roasted lamb and old money.

Goldia sat at the head of the table. She tapped her manicured fingernail against the rim of her crystal water glass.

"Well?" Goldia demanded. Her eyes were fixed on Ellery's flat stomach. "Are you pregnant yet?"

Ellery kept her eyes on her half-eaten food. "I am following the doctor's instructions, Goldia. We are trying."

Goldia scoffed. She reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She slammed it onto the table.

"This is a new schedule from the fertility clinic," Goldia said. "You need to quit that little dressmaking hobby of yours. You need to stay home and focus on giving this family an heir."

Ellery's head snapped up. Her heart hammered against her ribs. "My studio is not a hobby. I have clients. I am not quitting my job."

The silence in the dining room became deafening. Goldia's face turned a dangerous shade of red. She opened her mouth to scream.

Holland suddenly pushed his chair back. The wooden legs scraped loudly against the marble floor.

He grabbed Ellery's wool coat from the back of her chair. "We are leaving."

Goldia glared at him. "Sit down, Holland. I am not finished speaking to my daughter-in-law."

"We are leaving," Holland said. His voice left no room for argument. "This conversation is over." He grabbed Ellery's upper arm and pulled her out of her chair.

He dragged her toward the front doors.

"Holland!" Goldia shrieked from the dining room. "You come back here!"

Holland ignored her. He pushed the heavy oak doors open and shoved Ellery outside.

The freezing night wind whipped across Ellery's face. Holland practically threw her into the passenger seat of his black Maybach.

He slammed the door shut, walked around the hood, and got into the driver's seat. The doors locked with a sharp click.

Holland slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The tires screeched against the gravel driveway. The car shot out into the dark night.

The interior of the car was dead silent. Ellery turned her head and stared out the window. The bare trees blurred together in the darkness.

Holland gripped the steering wheel. His knuckles were stark white. He yanked the wheel hard, merging onto the highway toward Manhattan.

Thirty minutes later, the Maybach pulled into the private underground garage of their penthouse building.

They rode the private elevator up to the top floor in silence. The doors slid open. Holland immediately reached up and ripped his silk tie from his neck.

Ellery kicked off her heels. Her feet ached. She turned her body toward the guest bedroom hallway.

Holland stepped in front of her. He held a crystal glass filled with amber whiskey. He had poured it the second they walked in.

He reached out and pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger. He forced her to look up at him.

"Why were you acting like a mute tonight?" Holland demanded.

Ellery let out a dry, humorless laugh. "I was just playing the part. Isn't that what your mother wants? A silent, perfect breeding machine?"

Holland's eyes darkened. The muscle in his jaw ticked violently.

He slammed the whiskey glass down onto the marble bar counter. The glass didn't break, but the loud thud made Ellery jump.

He bent down and scooped her up into his arms.

"Put me down!" Ellery yelled, kicking her legs.

Holland ignored her. He carried her down the hall and kicked the master bedroom door open. He threw her down onto the center of the massive king-sized bed.

Ellery scrambled backward, but Holland was faster. He climbed over her, pinning her wrists to the mattress above her head. His eyes were completely black with rage.

The air in the room grew heavy. The sound of their ragged breathing filled the space.

When it was over, Holland rolled off her. He stood up and pulled his bathrobe on, tying it tightly at his waist.

He stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at her. Ellery pulled the thick duvet up to her chin, curling her knees to her chest.

"You lie there like a dead fish," Holland sneered. His voice was cruel and detached. "It completely ruins the mood."

Ellery bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted copper. She refused to let the tears fall. She stared at the wall, staying completely silent.

Holland walked to the bedroom door. He placed his hand on the knob and stopped.

"Be at my office tomorrow morning at nine sharp," he ordered without turning around.

The door clicked shut.

Ellery lay in the dark. A wave of intense nausea washed over her. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, feeling completely disgusted with herself.

The morning sun pierced through the gap in the heavy blackout curtains. Ellery sat up. Every muscle in her body ached.

She walked into the master bathroom and turned on the cold water. She splashed her face, trying to wash away the exhaustion.

Her phone vibrated against the marble vanity.

She picked it up. It was a text message from Goldia.

I have booked you an appointment with the top fertility specialist on Park Avenue for tomorrow. Do not be late.

Ellery's chest tightened. She flipped the phone over, placing it face down on the cold stone.

Two seconds later, the phone started ringing loudly. The caller ID showed her brother's name: Hayward.

Ellery stared at the screen for three seconds before sliding her finger across the glass.

"Did you talk to him?" Hayward's sugar-coated, manipulative voice drifted through the speaker. "Ellery, sweetie, please tell me Holland agreed to inject funds into the White-Peak development project?"

"No," Ellery said coldly. "I cannot control Holland's business decisions, Hayward."

Hayward let out a long, heavy sigh. "Ellery, you know I don't want to pressure you. But you are his wife. You need to try a little harder, for Mom's sake. Her medical bills at the Swiss sanatorium are due next month, and they are astronomical. If Garza Group goes under, my hands are tied. I really don't know how I'll explain to the doctors that we have to pull the plug on her treatment... I'm not forcing you, I'm just heartbroken for Mom."

Ellery's fingernails dug into her palms. Her breathing turned shallow. "You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't have a choice," Hayward murmured softly, the venom hidden beneath a layer of fake grief. "Make him sign the deal, Ellery. For Mom."

The line went dead. Ellery's hands shook. She gripped the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white. She had no choice. She had to keep playing the game.

She picked up the phone and dialed Goldia's number.

"I will move back into the Long Island estate," Ellery said, swallowing her pride. "I will follow the prep routine."

She hung up before Goldia could gloat.

Ellery walked into her closet. She pulled out a tailored, high-necked black suit. She applied a thick layer of concealer to her neck to hide the dark bruises Holland had left on her skin.

She had to go to Holland's office first. She couldn't afford to disobey him now. She walked out of the building and hailed a yellow cab, giving the driver the address to the Sutton Enterprise skyscraper.

At exactly nine o'clock, Ellery pushed open the heavy glass doors of Holland's top-floor executive suite. His assistant didn't even look up, simply pointing toward the double mahogany doors. Ellery walked in. Holland was sitting behind his massive desk, signing documents. He didn't offer her a seat. For twenty agonizing minutes, she stood there in her high heels, completely ignored. The silence was a suffocating weight, a deliberate power play to remind her of her place.

Finally, Holland threw his pen down. "You look like a corpse," he stated coldly, his eyes raking over her conservative suit. "My mother is hosting a charity gala this weekend. Make sure you don't embarrass me. Now get out."

Ellery's fingernails dug into her palms. She turned without a word and left the suffocating office. Stepping back onto the bustling Manhattan pavement, she took a ragged breath. She hailed another yellow cab. She gave the driver the address to her high-end custom dressmaking studio, TT Couture.

When she pushed the glass doors of her studio open, her receptionist rushed forward. The young girl looked panicked.

"Ms. Garza, there is a very difficult VIP client in the fitting room," the receptionist whispered. "She is throwing a fit."

Ellery frowned. She handed her leather bag to her assistant and walked straight toward the VIP room.

She pushed the half-open door. Crystal was sitting on the velvet sofa. She was flipping through a book of expensive fabric swatches.

Crystal looked up. A triumphant, nasty smile spread across her face.

Crystal picked up a sample of French Chantilly lace and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. "I want you to personally design a custom set for me."

Ellery's face remained completely blank. She walked into the room and stopped in front of the table.

"My schedule is fully booked," Ellery said in a monotone voice. "My assistant can help you."

Crystal stood up. She took a step closer, invading Ellery's personal space.

"Holland texted me again last night after he left," Crystal whispered, her eyes gleaming with malice. "He felt bad about kicking me out."

Ellery's heart gave a violent lurch, but she kept her face perfectly still. She forced a polite, professional smile.

"I need a very seductive lingerie set," Crystal continued loudly, making sure the staff outside the glass walls could hear. "It's to please Mr. Sutton."

The studio went dead silent. The other designers peeked through the glass, their eyes wide.

Ellery took a slow, deep breath. If she caused a scene, it would ruin her studio's reputation. She needed the money from this commission to deal with Hayward's blackmail.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her yellow measuring tape.

Crystal smiled brightly and raised her arms in the air, looking around the room like she owned the place.

Ellery stepped forward. Her hands were ice cold as she wrapped the tape measure around Crystal's chest.

"Make sure it pushes everything up," Crystal sneered, looking down at Ellery. "He likes it when I look perfect."

Ellery did not say a word. She just pulled the tape measure a little tighter.

Ellery pulled the yellow tape measure away. She picked up her clipboard and quickly scribbled down the numbers.

Crystal walked out of the VIP room and marched straight to the front reception desk. She tapped her long acrylic nails against the marble counter.

"Ring me up," Crystal demanded.

Ellery walked behind the counter. She typed the custom order details into the computer. The total price flashed on the screen. She turned the monitor so Crystal could see it.

Crystal scoffed. She reached into her limited-edition Birkin bag and pulled out a heavy, matte black card.

It was an American Express Centurion Black Card.

Ellery's eyes locked onto the card. She recognized the specific wear on the metal edges. It was Holland's secondary card. The blood drained from her face.

"He gave this to me last night," Crystal bragged loudly. "As an apology."

The two sales assistants standing nearby gasped softly. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Ellery did not reach for the card. Instead, she reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

She unlocked the screen and dialed Holland's private number.

The phone rang three times. Holland picked up.

"What?" his deep, irritated voice came through the line.

Ellery did not press the speakerphone button. She turned the volume on her phone all the way up and stepped around the marble counter, holding the device right next to Crystal's ear.

"Mr. Sutton," Ellery said. Her voice was incredibly soft, yet dripping with pure venom. "You are certainly generous to your mistresses."

There was a split second of silence on the other end. Then, the sound of a heavy leather chair scraping across a wooden floor echoed through the earpiece.

"Ms. Crystal is standing at my register," Ellery continued smoothly. "She is attempting to use your Black Card to pay a fifty-thousand-dollar bill for custom lingerie."

Crystal's face went pale. She lunged forward, trying to grab the phone out of Ellery's hand.

Ellery easily swatted her hand away, keeping the phone locked in place.

Holland was silent for two full seconds. The silence was heavy and terrifying.

When he finally spoke, his voice was like absolute zero, cutting through the quiet studio just loud enough for Crystal and the nearby assistants to hear. "Any secondary card in my name is under my wife's jurisdiction. You should be apologizing to her, not bothering me."

His words hit Crystal like a physical blow.

Crystal's face flushed a deep, ugly purple. Her entire body began to shake with humiliation.

"Cancel the secondary card ending in 4092," Holland barked, clearly speaking to an assistant in his office. "Immediately."

The call disconnected. The dial tone buzzed loudly in the room. It sounded like a slap to the face.

Ellery picked up the heavy black card from the counter. She swiped it through the POS machine.

The machine let out a loud, angry beep. The screen flashed bright red: DECLINED.

Ellery pinched the card between her index and middle finger. She tossed it back at Crystal. It hit Crystal's chest and clattered onto the floor.

"My studio does not accept clients with bankrupt credit," Ellery said, offering a flawless, empty smile.

A few of the staff members let out low, muffled laughs.

Crystal's eyes filled with tears of rage. She let out a high-pitched scream, grabbed her Birkin bag, and spun around. She didn't even look at the card on the floor.

She ran toward the exit. In her panic, her ankle twisted in her high heels. She stumbled, slamming her shoulder into the heavy glass door before pushing it open and disappearing onto the sidewalk.

Ellery watched her run away. She bent down, picked up the useless black card, and dropped it into the trash can under the desk. She let out a long, shaky breath.