Coleton's body convulsed on the floor. He was gasping for air, his forehead pressed against the rug, sweat soaking his hair.

The heavy thwack of the blackwood cane echoed in the silent room, vibrating against the walls.

Jovani scrambled away from Katrina and crawled toward Adelbert. He grabbed his grandfather's pant leg. "Grandpa, stop! Please! He's had enough!"

Adelbert kicked Jovani away with a swift jerk of his leg. His cloudy eyes remained locked on Katrina, trying to force her to break.

Katrina sat in the velvet chair, her expression completely unreadable.

Delmus watched Coleton's breathing turn shallow. He realized the situation was spiraling out of control. If the Meyer heir was permanently crippled, the billion-dollar merger would collapse entirely.

Delmus stepped forward quickly. As Adelbert raised the cane for a sixth strike, Delmus reached out and grabbed the brass tip mid-air.

"That's enough, Adelbert," Delmus said, his voice heavy and serious. "Blood has been spilled. The insult is answered. If you break him, we both lose."

Adelbert let out a long, tense breath. He had been looking for a way out of the standoff. He slowly lowered the cane, pretending he was still furious.

He pointed the tip of the cane at Coleton's bleeding back. "You should thank your father-in-law for his mercy. I would have broken your legs."

Katrina let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. She stood up from the velvet chair, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from her skirt.

"Delmus showed mercy," Katrina announced, her voice ringing clear and cold. "I didn't offer a single drop of pity."

She looked at her father. "You can stay here and play your fake family games with them. I am leaving."

She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and walked toward the double doors.

Brandin stepped in front of the doorway, blocking her path with his broad shoulders.

"You can't leave," Brandin warned, his voice dropping low. "Look out the window. The paparazzi are swarming the main gates."

Katrina frowned. She turned her head toward the large bay windows. In the distance, past the manicured lawns, she could see the rapid, blinding flashes of cameras lighting up the iron gates.

She quickly weighed her options. Walking out there alone with a suitcase at 3:00 AM would give the media the exact narrative Brandin wanted. She was physically trapped on the estate.

Katrina turned back around. She looked at the head butler. "Alistair. Prepare the guest room in the West Wing. The one furthest from here."

Alistair wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. He glanced at Adelbert, who gave a nearly invisible nod. "Right away, ma'am."

Katrina dragged her suitcase behind her. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor as she walked down the long, empty corridor. Her back was straight, her posture unyielding.

When she reached the West Wing room, she stepped inside, slammed the door in Alistair's face, and threw the heavy brass deadbolt with a loud click.

Back in the bridal suite, the suffocating tension broke the moment Katrina left.

The estate's private medical team rushed in. They began cutting away Coleton's ruined shirt to clean the bloody welts. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air.

Adelbert leaned on his cane. He scanned the room with cold eyes. He caught Rocco's attention and gestured toward the dark corner of the room.

Rocco stepped into the shadows, leaning down to hear the old man.

Adelbert lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Once the doctors patch him up, drag him down to the basement."

Rocco's eyes widened in shock. "Sir?"

"Take a leather whip," Adelbert ordered, his voice devoid of any human emotion. "Keep hitting him. Avoid the face and organs. Just break the skin."

Rocco swallowed hard. "But the girl left. The punishment is over."

"The injuries aren't severe enough," Adelbert hissed. "When the press takes his photo tomorrow, he needs to look like he barely survived. I will build a cage of public sympathy so strong, she will never be able to file those divorce papers."

Katrina paced the floor of the West Wing guest room. Her bare feet sank into the plush carpet.

Her throat was parched. The intense confrontation had left her mouth feeling like sandpaper. She walked over to the small minibar, but the crystal water pitcher was completely empty.

She let out an irritated sigh. But as she stood there, the silence of the West Wing gave her a sudden, sharp idea. This historic estate had secrets she had memorized during the engagement. Specifically, the old, decommissioned dumbwaiter shaft that ran directly from this floor down to the wall behind Adelbert's private study.

Katrina didn't go to the kitchen. Instead, she walked down the dark corridor until she found the hidden wooden panel. She carefully slid it open. The dark, vertical tunnel acted like a perfect acoustic funnel.

A low, muffled voice drifted up from the ground floor.

It was coming straight up the shaft. Katrina heard her own name. She instantly froze.

She leaned forward slightly, pressing her ear near the opening, holding her breath.

Inside the study, a fire crackled in the fireplace. Adelbert, Brandin, and Jovani were sitting in the leather armchairs.

Adelbert poured a measure of amber whiskey from a crystal decanter. The liquid caught the firelight.

"Coleton is in the basement right now," Adelbert said calmly, taking a sip. "Rocco is touching him up. By tomorrow morning, he will look like a martyr."

Katrina's heart skipped a beat.

"When the press gets the photos of the battered husband and the cold, runaway wife," Adelbert continued, a smug tone in his voice, "the PR team will crucify her. The public will demand she stand by him. She won't dare file for divorce."

Brandin nodded slowly. He didn't look angry that his sister was being manipulated. He looked relieved. "It's the safest way to protect the merger."

Katrina's fingers gripped the banister so hard her knuckles turned white. Her own brother was sitting there, nodding along to a plot to destroy her reputation.

"But what if she still refuses?" Brandin asked.

Adelbert's eyes turned pitch black. "If Coleton fails to bring her back, he is useless to me."

Adelbert leaned forward. "I will activate the contingency clause in the family trust. I will bring Coen Meyer back from Europe and replace Coleton as the primary heir."

In the shadows of the study, Jovani gasped. The name Coen Meyer-the illegitimate son-made Jovani's eyes widen with pure terror and jealousy.

"Tell Coleton about Coen," Adelbert ordered. "Let the fear of losing his money force him to crawl on his knees and beg her."

Katrina didn't waste a second. She reached into the pocket of her silk robe and pulled out her phone. Her fingers trembled slightly as she hit the record button.

She held the phone near the open shaft, capturing every single word of their disgusting, calculated plot.

The audio waveform on her screen spiked with every evil sentence. But inside, Katrina's blood was turning to ice. The burning anger was gone, replaced by a cold, absolute clarity.

Every apology, every drop of blood spilled tonight-it was all a performance. A transaction.

The conversation downstairs began to wrap up. Katrina quickly hit stop and saved the file.

She clutched the phone to her chest like a weapon. She slid the wooden panel shut with zero sound. She turned around and walked back down the hallway, her bare feet making zero sound against the marble.

She slipped back into her room and shut the door with a soft click. She immediately threw the deadbolt.

She wasn't taking any chances. She grabbed the heavy, European-style armchair and dragged it across the carpet, wedging it tightly under the door handle.

Katrina sat on the edge of the bed. Her chest heaved. She pressed play on the recording.

Listening to their voices again, the last tiny fragment of hesitation inside her shattered into dust. Her will to fight back hardened into unbreakable steel.

Katrina sat in the dark. The only light in the room came from the glowing screen of her phone.

Suddenly, heavy, dragging footsteps echoed in the hallway outside her door.

She didn't need to press her ear to the wall to know what was happening. Before the wedding, during the integration of their personal security protocols, she had demanded administrative access to Coleton's devices. He had agreed, thinking it was just corporate standard procedure.

Katrina opened the hidden security app on her phone and activated the ambient microphone on Coleton's device next door.

Through her phone's speaker, she heard the door next door being shoved open.

"Get in there," Rocco's gruff voice growled.

Katrina heard a heavy thud through the audio feed as a body was thrown onto the mattress. A sharp, agonizing groan followed.

"Good luck," Rocco muttered. The door slammed shut.

The digital transmission was crystal clear. Katrina could hear every ragged breath.

Coleton shifted on the bed. The sound of the sheets rustling was accompanied by his sharp intakes of breath. He was in agonizing pain.

Then, a phone buzzed.

It vibrated against the nightstand next door. Katrina could hear Coleton fumbling for it.

"Hello?" he rasped. His voice was weak and trembling.

"Coleton!" Hana's hysterical crying immediately transmitted clearly through Katrina's phone speaker. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know calling you would ruin everything!"

Katrina closed her eyes, disgusted by the fake tears.

Coleton took a shaky breath. "It's... it's not your fault, Hana."

"I need to see you," Hana begged. "Let me bring Leo. Let me take care of you."

"No!" Coleton's voice suddenly spiked with sheer panic. "You can't come here! The press is outside!"

"Are you abandoning us because you're scared of that bitch?" Hana cried.

"I'm not scared of her!" Coleton yelled. His voice cracked, revealing the pathetic, terrified boy underneath the expensive suits. "I'm scared of my grandfather! He... he told me... Coen!" Coleton sobbed, gasping for air between words. "He's bringing Coen in!"

Katrina's eyes opened wide.

"If I lose her... the trust fund..." Coleton groaned in agony, his breathing ragged. "The company... he'll take it all! I'll have... I'll have nothing, Hana! Nothing!"

He was crying over his bank account.

"You have to stay away from me," Coleton ordered, his voice turning cruel. "Don't call me. If she finds out, I'm dead."

Katrina tapped the screen, cutting the audio feed. A wave of intense, physical nausea hit her stomach. She felt like she was going to throw up.

She had thought, just for a second, that his hesitation earlier was out of guilt. But it wasn't. He didn't care about his vows. He didn't even care about Hana.

He was a coward. His entire existence was driven by the fear of losing his allowance.

Next door, Coleton hung up the phone. He punched the mattress, screaming a string of vile curses directed at Katrina.

Katrina's lips curled into a sneer of absolute contempt.

"You haven't seen anything yet," she whispered to the empty room.

She walked over to the vintage writing desk and flipped open her laptop. The blue light illuminated her cold, determined face.

She opened her encrypted email client. She typed in the address of the most ruthless, high-profile divorce litigator in Manhattan.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She didn't write an emotional plea. She wrote a tactical battle plan. She attached the audio recording. She detailed the offshore accounts.

She was going to skin Coleton alive and burn this fake alliance to the ground.