The sun was setting as Ellery drove her car through the massive iron gates of the Sutton estate.

She parked her car near the stone fountain. She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves, and pushed the heavy oak front doors open.

The main living room was brightly lit. Goldia sat on the center of the French antique sofa. Her eyes locked onto Ellery the second she walked in.

A maid stood rigidly next to Goldia. The maid held a silver tray in her hands.

On the tray sat a delicate porcelain bowl. It was filled with a thick, ink-black liquid.

Ellery walked closer. A foul, pungent smell of rotting herbs and raw fish hit her nose. Her stomach immediately churned.

Goldia pointed a sharp fingernail at the bowl. "This is a top-tier fertility supplement prescribed by our private doctor. Drink it."

Ellery stared at the black sludge. Bile rose in the back of her throat. "Goldia, I don't think I can stomach that."

Goldia let out a cold, sharp laugh. "You will drink it. It is the rule of this family. If you refuse, it means you are actively trying to end the Sutton bloodline."

Ellery thought of Hayward's threat. She thought of her mother lying in the hospital bed in Switzerland. She had to keep Goldia happy to keep Holland's money flowing.

Ellery reached out with a trembling hand. She picked up the warm porcelain bowl.

She held her breath, closed her eyes, and tipped the bowl back. She forced the thick liquid down her throat.

The taste was metallic and overwhelmingly bitter.

The second the liquid hit her stomach, her body violently rejected it.

Ellery dropped the bowl back onto the tray. She slapped her hand over her mouth. She shoved past the coffee table, her knees knocking against the wood, and sprinted toward the first-floor powder room.

She crashed into the bathroom, gripped the edges of the marble sink, and violently threw up. The black liquid and stomach acid burned her throat.

Tears streamed down her face from the physical strain. She turned on the gold faucet, splashing cold water into her mouth.

"Pathetic!" Goldia's angry voice echoed from the hallway. "You can can't even handle a little bitterness!"

Ellery heard Goldia snap her fingers. "Go to the kitchen. Pour another bowl. Stand there and watch her swallow every last drop."

Ellery leaned her forehead against the cold mirror. Her legs were shaking. A wave of pure terror washed over her.

Footsteps approached the bathroom door. The maid appeared, holding a fresh bowl of the black liquid.

Before the maid could step inside, the heavy front doors of the estate slammed open.

Holland strode into the living room. The cold night air clung to his dark wool coat.

He stopped. He looked at Ellery, who was pale and shaking in the bathroom doorway. He looked at the maid holding the black potion.

A dark, dangerous shadow crossed Holland's eyes.

He walked straight to the maid. He snatched the silver tray out of her hands.

With a flick of his wrist, Holland hurled the tray toward the floor.

Crash!

The porcelain bowl shattered into a hundred pieces. The black liquid splattered across the priceless Persian rug.

Goldia jumped up from the sofa, her eyes wide with shock. "Holland! Have you lost your mind?"

"I have an important business dinner tonight," Holland said. His voice was dangerously calm. "I need my wife to attend with me."

He didn't wait for Goldia to argue. He grabbed Ellery's wrist and pulled her away from the bathroom.

He dragged her toward the front door.

"Holland!" Goldia screamed from the living room. "You bring her back here! You have a midnight curfew!"

Holland ignored his mother. He shoved Ellery into the passenger seat of his Maybach and slammed the door.

The engine roared to life. The car tore out of the driveway, leaving the estate far behind.

The heater in the Maybach blasted warm air. Ellery leaned her head against the leather headrest. The painful spasms in her stomach slowly began to fade.

Holland drove with one hand on the steering wheel. He glanced at her pale face out of the corner of his eye. He reached over and turned the heat up another notch.

The car slowed down and pulled up to the curb in front of the Tumi Exclusive Club, a highly private venue in Manhattan. A valet immediately rushed forward to open Ellery's door.

Holland stepped out of the car. He walked around to her side and grabbed her freezing hand.

Ellery tried to pull her fingers away. "I don't want to go in here."

Holland ignored her resistance. He laced his fingers through hers, locking her hand in a tight grip. He pulled her toward the entrance.

They walked down a dimly lit, luxurious hallway. A waiter in a crisp suit opened the heavy, soundproof door to the VIP room at the very end of the hall.

The room was thick with cigar smoke. Holland's childhood friends-Pierce, Sterling, and Julian-were sitting around a poker table.

When they saw Holland walk in holding Ellery's hand, the room went dead silent. The three men stared in shock.

Pierce was the first to recover. He let out a low whistle. "Well, look at this. You actually brought the legal wife out to play."

Holland shot Pierce a look so cold it could freeze water. He pulled Ellery toward the main leather sofa and forced her to sit down next to him.

Julian, the doctor of the group, quietly poured a glass of warm water and slid it across the table toward Ellery. She gave him a tight, forced smile of thanks.

The men resumed their conversation about Wall Street mergers. Ellery sat stiffly, feeling completely out of place.

Suddenly, the heavy VIP door burst open. The bright light from the hallway spilled into the dark room.

Crystal stood in the doorway. Her mascara was smeared under her red, swollen eyes.

She had clearly tracked Holland down, desperate to win back her meal ticket.

Crystal ignored the shocked stares of the men in the room. She ran straight toward the sofa, throwing herself toward Holland's chest.

Holland's eyes narrowed. He shifted his body sharply to the side.

Crystal missed him completely. She tripped and fell hard against the edge of the leather sofa, her knees hitting the floor.

She looked up, tears streaming down her face. "Holland! She canceled my card! She humiliated me in front of everyone!" Crystal pointed a shaking finger at Ellery.

Pierce and Sterling exchanged awkward glances. The tension in the room skyrocketed.

Ellery felt a fresh wave of nausea hit her stomach. She couldn't stand being part of this pathetic soap opera. She placed her hands on the sofa to push herself up.

Holland's large hand clamped down on her thigh, pinning her to the seat.

He looked down at Crystal, who was still sobbing on the floor.

"She is my legal wife," Holland said. His voice was loud, clear, and absolutely merciless. "Canceling your card is her right."

Crystal's mouth dropped open. The color drained from her face as the reality of his words hit her.

Holland reached over and slammed his hand down on the service bell on the table.

"Get this crazy woman out of here," Holland ordered the two massive bouncers who appeared at the door. "And put her on the permanent blacklist."

The bouncers grabbed Crystal by the arms. She started screaming hysterically as they dragged her out of the room and down the hall.

The VIP room fell into a heavy, uncomfortable silence. Pierce cleared his throat, trying to think of a joke to break the ice.

Ellery couldn't take it anymore. The cigar smoke, the violence, the absolute control Holland exerted over everyone. She stood up, ripping her leg away from his grip.

She grabbed her coat and walked out of the room without looking back.

"Damn it," Holland muttered. He slammed his whiskey glass onto the table and chased after her.

He caught up to her halfway down the hallway.

Holland's large hand clamped down on Ellery's shoulder. He spun her around and shoved her back against the velvet-lined wall of the hallway.

"What is your problem?" Holland demanded, his chest heaving.

Ellery looked at him with dead eyes. "I played my part. I sat there while you showed off your power. Now I want to go home."

Holland stared at her stubborn face. The muscle in his jaw flexed. He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the private elevator.

They drove back to the Long Island estate in complete silence, arriving just before the midnight curfew.

The second they walked into the master bedroom on the second floor, a soft knock sounded at the door.

The maid walked in. She was holding a fresh bowl of the steaming, black "fertility supplement."

"Madam requested that you finish this before bed," the maid said, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Ellery stared at the black liquid. Her stomach instantly cramped. She took a step back, looking up at Holland. Her eyes begged him to throw it away again.

Holland didn't throw it away. He reached out and took the tray from the maid.

The maid quickly left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Holland walked toward Ellery, holding the bowl out. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Drink it," he commanded.

Ellery shook her head. "I can't. It makes me sick."

"If you don't drink this, I will personally ensure the White-Peak project loses all funding tomorrow morning," Holland said. His voice was flat, stating a simple fact.

Ellery's breath caught in her throat. He was using her brother's blackmail against her. He was forcing her to poison herself for a business deal.

Her hands shook violently as she reached out and took the bowl. She closed her eyes and chugged the bitter sludge.

The second the bowl was empty, her stomach revolted.

She dropped the bowl onto the carpet and sprinted into the en-suite bathroom. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and violently threw up. Tears streamed down her face, splashing onto the cold tiles.

Holland stood outside the bathroom door. He listened to her gagging. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He didn't step inside to help her.

A flicker of something dark and restless crossed his features. He despised weakness, yet the sound of her retching grated against his perfectly controlled nerves. He walked over to the edge of the bed. Instead of retreating, he deliberately picked up the remote control and turned on the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, cranking the volume up high. He stared at the glowing screen with cold detachment, forcing his attention onto the financial news, actively choosing to ignore the woman breaking down just feet away from him.

Ellery slowly stood up. She rinsed her mouth with tap water and wiped her face with a towel. She walked out of the bathroom, her legs trembling.

As she stepped into the bedroom, a clear, confident male voice drifted from the television speakers.

Ellery froze. Her entire body went completely rigid.

She slowly turned her head toward the screen.

The Bloomberg news channel was playing a late-night interview. Sitting in the guest chair was a handsome, sharp-featured man in a tailored suit.

It was Kyle Calderon. Her first love. The only man she had ever truly cared about.

Ellery's breathing turned shallow and rapid. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face.

Holland noticed the sudden change in the room's atmosphere. He looked at Ellery. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.

Holland looked back at the TV, then back at Ellery. He saw the raw, unfiltered emotion swimming in her eyes.

A dark, violent wave of jealousy crashed over Holland. His eyes turned pitch black.

He raised the remote control and slammed his thumb onto the power button.

The screen went black. Kyle's voice was instantly cut off.

The bedroom fell into a suffocating, terrifying silence. Holland and Ellery stood ten feet apart, staring at each other in the dark.