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.

The shrill alarm clock shattered the silence of the bedroom. Ellery jolted awake. Her heart was racing from a nightmare she couldn't remember.

She reached her hand across the mattress. The sheets on Holland's side were cold. He had left hours ago.

She glanced at the clock and gasped. She was thirty minutes late.

Ellery rushed through her morning routine. She pulled on a high-necked silk blouse to hide the faint bruises on her collarbone. She grabbed her purse and ran down the grand staircase.

Goldia was sitting in the formal living room, sipping tea from a bone china cup.

"You are late," Goldia said without looking up. She tapped her long fingernail against the saucer. "Not only are you failing to provide an heir, but you also lack basic discipline."

Ellery stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She kept her head down. "I apologize."

"If you don't have good news by the end of this month, I will make a single phone call to the landlord of your building and have your lease shredded before noon. Half of your high-end fabric suppliers rely on the Sutton family's shipping lines. Care to guess who they will choose to do business with?" Goldia threatened, taking a sip of her tea.

Ellery gripped the strap of her purse tightly. She didn't say a word. She turned and walked out the front door.

When she arrived at TT Couture, she pushed the glass doors open and walked into her private office.

Her best friend and business partner, Ira Saunders, was sitting on the edge of Ellery's desk. Ira's face was red with anger.

Ira slammed a glossy tabloid magazine onto the desk. Next to it was a stack of printed screenshots from a private Instagram account.

"Look at this," Ira demanded.

Ellery looked down. The headline of the tabloid read: SUTTON HEIR DROPS MASSIVE CHECK TO PACIFY EX-LOVER.

Ira pointed to the screenshots. "My private investigator managed to get into Crystal's locked social media circle. She posted a picture of a cashier's check from Holland's private account, bragging about it to her little friends. He wrote Crystal a check for five hundred thousand dollars yesterday afternoon. After you canceled her card, he just bought her off!"

Ellery stared at the string of zeros. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped her lips. Holland had defended her in public, only to secretly pay off his mistress behind her back.

She pushed the magazine away. She walked over to her drafting table and started organizing a pile of silk fabrics.

Ira stared at her in disbelief. "Are you not even angry? He is humiliating you!"

"I don't have the right to be angry, Ira," Ellery said. Her voice was completely flat. "I am just a tool. As long as he pays my mother's hospital bills, he can write checks to whoever he wants."

Ellery picked up Crystal's order form from yesterday. "I'm still going to make her lingerie. The commission is too good to pass up."

Ira snatched the fabric out of Ellery's hands. "You are letting them turn you into a robot! You need to hire a lawyer, gather evidence of his cheating, and divorce him!"

"I can't," Ellery whispered, her voice finally cracking. "Hayward will let my mother die."

Suddenly, the intercom on the desk buzzed loudly.

"Ms. Garza," the receptionist said, her voice shaking. "Crystal is outside with three of her friends. They are trying to get in."

Ira's eyes flashed with pure rage. She slammed her hand down on the intercom button. "Lock the front doors. Do not let them in."

Ira marched out of the office and walked straight to the front glass doors. Crystal was standing on the sidewalk, glaring through the glass.

Ira stood right in front of Crystal. She raised her hand and flipped Crystal off with her middle finger.

Crystal screamed something through the thick glass and stomped her foot, but she couldn't get inside.

Ellery watched Ira defend her. A small, warm feeling bloomed in her frozen chest.

Ira walked back into the office. She pointed a finger at Ellery. "If you don't start fighting back, I am done being your friend. I mean it."

Ellery looked down at her cell phone resting on the desk. The screen lit up with a notification from her university alumni group chat.

The message was from Kyle Calderon.

I'm back in New York. Let's catch up.