Hardin's gaze was heavy, a physical weight on her skin. He wasn't sneering anymore. His lips were parted slightly, his breathing shallow.

Elsie didn't stop. But she didn't continue undressing, either. Instead, she reached out.

She grabbed the lapels of his black shirt.

Hardin stiffened. "What are you doing?"

"Verification," Elsie whispered.

She yanked him forward. He stumbled a step, caught off guard by her strength. They were chest to chest now. She could feel the heat radiating off him.

Her hands slid up his chest, flattening over his heart.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

It was strong. Steady. Powerful.

"Funny," Elsie murmured, looking up into his eyes. "For a heart that's failing, it sure beats hard."

Hardin's panic was instant. He realized his mistake. He had let her get too close. He had let her touch the engine that was supposed to be broken.

Reaction overrode logic. He grabbed her shoulders. His grip was bruising.

"Get off!"

He shoved her. Hard.

Elsie flew backward. Her hip slammed into the edge of the heavy oak desk. Pain exploded in her side, sharp and blinding. She gasped, doubling over.

Hardin froze. He looked at his hands, then at her wincing form. Horror flashed across his face. He took a step toward her, his hand reaching out. "Elsie, I-"

He stopped himself. He couldn't care. He couldn't be the husband who checked for bruises. He had to be the monster.

He clenched his fist and dropped it to his side, leaning back against the wall as he gasped for air, clutching his chest. "Clause Four," he choked out, his voice strained. "No physical contact. You breached the contract."

Elsie straightened up, rubbing her hip. She saw him leaning against the wall, pale and sweating. "I breached the contract? You just assaulted me!"

"I protected... my health," Hardin lied, his voice ragged. "Stress... is fatal. Get out. Now."

Elsie rubbed her hip, wincing. Her eyes were wet, but not with tears. With shock.

She looked at him. Really looked at him.

"You're a maniac," she said breathlessly. "You're not just sick, Hardin. You're broken."

She saw the checkbook on the desk. The check he had written to make her leave.

She picked it up.

"Here's what I think of your money," she said.

She ripped the check in half. Then in quarters. She threw the confetti of paper at his feet.

"I'm staying," she said. "Not for the money. But because I signed a contract. And unlike you, I keep my word. I'll wait until you die, Hardin. But don't expect me to mourn."

She turned and limped out of the room.

Hardin watched her go. When the door slammed, the sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent room.

He slumped against the desk, burying his face in his hands. His heart-his perfectly healthy, surgically repaired heart-was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"Dammit," he whispered.

The shadows in the corner of the room shifted. Silas stepped out. He had been there the whole time, silent as a ghost.

"That was... messy," Silas observed dryly.

"She touched me," Hardin said, his voice ragged. "She felt it, Silas. She felt the heartbeat."

"She thinks it was adrenaline," Silas said soothingly. "Or anger. She doesn't know about Zurich. But you have to be more careful. If you shove her again, she might not just tear up a check. She might tear up the NDA."

"I didn't mean to shove her," Hardin said, looking at the torn paper. "She was just... too close."

"We need to keep her closer," Silas countered. "We found chatter on the dark web. Jed is looking for leverage. If we push her away, she becomes a target. If we keep her here, under the guise of this marriage, she's safe."

Hardin looked at the door where Elsie had exited.

"She hates me," Hardin said.

"Good," Silas said. "Hate is safer than love. Especially for her."

Elsie lay in the massive guest bed, staring at the ceiling. Her hip throbbed. A bruise was already forming, a dark purple bloom on her pale skin.

She pulled the duvet up to her chin. The house was quiet, but it felt alive. Watching her.

She picked up her phone. No messages from Jed. The lawyer had done his job.

But there was a text from Debbi.

How is he? Is he a crypt keeper?

Elsie typed back: He's a nightmare. But he's alive.

She deleted it.

She typed: He's just a job.

She sent it.

She rolled over, closing her eyes. But every time she drifted off, she felt the phantom sensation of Hardin's heartbeat against her palm. It didn't feel like a dying heart. It felt like a drum of war.

---

"I am," Elsie said. "My own."

It was the next afternoon. Debbi had insisted on dragging Elsie out of the gloomy manor and into the city for "retail therapy." They were in a boutique on Fifth Avenue, surrounded by racks of clothes that cost more than a Honda.

"Use the card," Debbi whispered, nudging her. "The Black Card. Punish him."

Elsie fingered the heavy titanium card in her wallet. Hardin had had it sent to her room that morning via Godfrey, with a note: Buy something to cover the bruise.

He knew.

"Fine," Elsie said. She grabbed a red dress off the rack. Backless. Dangerous. "I'm trying this on."

She went into the changing room. The silk felt cool against her skin. She turned to look at her back in the mirror. The bruise on her hip was hidden, but the memory of his shove made her wince.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside the curtain.

"Where is she? I saw her come in!"

Elsie froze. Jed.

She threw the curtain open.

Jed was standing in the middle of the boutique, looking disheveled. He was drunk again. He had grabbed Debbi by the arm.

"Let go of her!" Elsie shouted, stepping out.

Jed turned. His eyes widened when he saw her in the red dress. Lust and rage warred on his face.

"Look at you," he sneered. "Spending your old man's money? Does he even can get it up, Elsie? Or do you have to perform for him?"

The shoppers gasped. Phones were raised. The red light of recording.

Elsie felt the blood drain from her face. But then, she remembered the pepper spray in her purse. She remembered the look in Hardin's eyes when he challenged her.

Prove it.

She wasn't weak anymore.

She walked up to Jed. He smirked, expecting her to cry.

"You're pathetic, Jed," she said calmly.

"I'm pathetic? You're a whore!"

Elsie didn't hesitate. There was a display of complimentary champagne on a silver tray next to them. She grabbed a flute.

Splash.

For the second time in three days, Jed got a face full of alcohol.

He screamed, blindingly wiping at his eyes.

"You bitch!" He raised his hand to strike her.

Elsie didn't flinch. She didn't step back.

But before Jed's hand could connect, a massive shape tackled him. The store security guard slammed Jed into the carpet.

"Get off me!" Jed howled.

Elsie stood over him. She looked like a queen in the red dress.

"If you ever come near me or my friends again," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "I won't use champagne next time. I'll use acid."

The police arrived minutes later. They dragged Jed out, kicking and screaming.

Elsie stood trembling in the middle of the store. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her knees weak.

"Are you okay?" Debbi asked, hugging her.

"I... I think so."

Elsie walked to the counter. She pulled out the Black Card. Her hand was shaking.

"I'll take the dress," she whispered.

The sales clerk looked at the card, then at the computer screen. Her eyes widened.

"Um, Mrs. Hunter?" the clerk said respectfully. "The bill has already been taken care of."

Elsie frowned. "What?"

"We received a call from the Hunter Family Office. They were monitoring the... transaction. They said they have been tracking Mr. Reeves since the incident at the Plaza. They wanted to ensure your safety." The clerk lowered her voice. "They said Mr. Hunter is very proud of your aim."

Elsie spun around. She looked out the front window.

Across the street, parked in the loading zone, was the black SUV. The window was rolled down an inch.

She couldn't see him, but she felt him.

Hardin was watching.

It wasn't just a coincidence. He had been following her. Or rather, guarding her.

She wasn't sure if it was creepy or comforting. But as she walked out of the store with the red dress, she clutched the bag a little tighter.

In the back of the Maybach, Hardin watched Elsie exit the store. She looked fierce. Beautiful.

"Did you see that slap, sir?" Silas asked from the front seat.

"I saw it," Hardin said. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "She's got fire."

"Jed Reeves is going to be a problem," Silas noted.

"Not for long," Hardin said. His face darkened. "Destroy him, Silas. Legally, financially, socially. I want him to wish he had drowned on that boat."

"Consider it done."

Hardin rolled up the window. "Take us home. My wife will be needing a ride."

"You're not going to offer her one?"

"No," Hardin said, leaning back and closing his eyes. "If I'm nice to her, she'll get suspicious. Let her hate me. It's cleaner."

---

By the time she got back to the manor, the video of the boutique incident was viral. But Jed had edited it. He had cut out his aggression, his slurs. He had only kept the part where Elsie splashed him and threatened him.

The headlines were brutal.

GOLD DIGGER GOES WILD: ELSIE WATKINS ASSAULTS EX.

HUNTER BRIDE: VIOLENT AND UNSTABLE?

Elsie sat in her room, scrolling through the comments.

She's crazy.

She did it for the money.

Poor Jed.

Her phone rang. It was Hardin. He was in the house, probably down the hall, but he was calling her.

"Come to the library," he said. Click.

Elsie walked to the library. Her head was held high, but inside, she was crumbling.

Hardin was waiting. He threw a tablet onto the desk.

"Explain," he demanded.

"He attacked Debbi," Elsie said. "I defended her."

"You made a scene," Hardin said coldly. "The Hunter name does not do 'scenes' in mid-town boutiques. My mother is having palpitations."

"I didn't ask for him to be there!"

"You attracted him," Hardin said. "Drama follows you, Elsie. And I don't have the energy for drama. My lawyers are drafting a separation agreement."

Elsie felt the blood drain from her face. "You can't. The contract-"

"The contract has a morality clause," Hardin lied. "Public embarrassment is grounds for termination."

"I need the money," Elsie said, her voice cracking. "My mother's house..."

"Not my problem."

Elsie looked at him. He was sitting in that damn wheelchair again, looking bored. Looking cruel.

She realized something. He was bullying her. He was pushing her to see if she would break.

She thought about the mother-in-law clause. Clause 22: All marital dissolutions must be arbitrated by Constance Hunter.

Elsie took a deep breath. She pulled out her phone.

"What are you doing?" Hardin asked.

"Calling your mother," Elsie said.

Hardin's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me." She put the phone to her ear. "Hello, Constance? It's Elsie. Yes, I'm crying... oh, it's terrible. Hardin is being so cruel... yes, Jed attacked me and Hardin wants to divorce me for it... I just feel so unsafe..."

Hardin lunged forward in his chair. "Hang up the phone!"

Elsie turned away, sobbing fake tears into the receiver. "He's yelling at me now, Constance! He's so stressed... I'm worried about his heart..."

She could hear Constance's voice screeching on the other end.

"Okay... okay, thank you, Constance."

Elsie hung up. She turned to Hardin. Her face was dry. Her expression was smug.

"Your mother says you are absolutely not allowed to divorce me," Elsie said sweetly. "And she's coming over. Tomorrow."

Hardin looked like he wanted to strangle her. His jaw worked furiously.

"You play dirty," he said.

"I learned from the best," Elsie replied.

Hardin stared at her for a long, tense moment. Then, slowly, the anger faded into something else. Respect?

He reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out a box.

He slid it across the desk.

"What is this?" Elsie asked.

"A new phone," Hardin said. "New number. Encrypted. Jed can't find this one. The press can't find this one."

Elsie opened the box. It was the latest iPhone, sleek and black.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because if you're going to be my wife," Hardin said, turning his wheelchair away, "you need to be unreachable by trash like Jed Reeves. I've already transferred your contacts, but I've blocked everyone except your friend Debbi and the family office."

Elsie picked up the phone. It was already set up.

She looked at him. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Hardin grumbled. "Just get out of my sight before I change my mind."

Elsie walked to the door. She paused.

"Hardin?"

"What?"

"You're not as mean as you pretend to be."

"I'm worse," he said. "Goodnight, Elsie."

---