The morning sun sliced through the bathroom blinds, stabbing Audrey directly in the eyes.

She was hunched over the porcelain sink, her knuckles white as she gripped the edges. Her stomach violently contracted. She dry-heaved, coughing until her throat felt raw. The chemical hangover from Genevieve's sedatives pounded against her skull like a hammer.

She opened the bottom drawer of the vanity. Her fingers shook as she pulled out a plastic pregnancy test.

She followed the instructions, her breathing shallow and ragged. When she was done, she flipped the plastic stick face-down on the marble counter.

Three minutes.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was ashen. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes. The memory of Kingston's broad back walking away from her last night played on a loop in her brain. She didn't know if she even wanted this marriage anymore. She didn't know if she could survive it.

The timer on her phone buzzed.

Audrey squeezed her eyes shut. She took a deep, shuddering breath, reached out, and flipped the test over.

Two solid red lines.

Pregnant.

A sharp gasp tore from her lips. The shock hit her first, followed instantly by a fierce, protective warmth blooming in her chest. She pressed a trembling hand flat against her lower stomach.

A baby. Kingston's baby.

Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the anchor they needed. A child could thaw the ice between them. It had to.

She moved quickly. She washed her face and pulled on a tailored beige trench coat, tying the belt tight to hide the slight tremor in her hands. She carefully slipped the pregnancy test into the hidden zipper pocket of her Birkin bag.

She left the penthouse and took the elevator down to the underground garage.

The driver was waiting by the black Maybach.

"Savage Tower," Audrey said as she slid into the backseat.

The streets of New York blurred past the tinted windows. Audrey clutched the leather straps of her bag. She rehearsed the words in her head a hundred times. Kingston, we're going to have a baby.

The Maybach pulled up to the curb on Wall Street.

Audrey pushed the door open before the driver could. She walked into the towering glass lobby of the Savage Corporation. Her heels clicked rapidly against the floor.

The receptionist at the front desk looked up. The woman's eyes widened, darting nervously toward the private elevators.

"Good morning, Mrs. Savage," the receptionist said, her voice tight. She made a slight, aborted movement, as if she wanted to stop Audrey but didn't have the authority.

Audrey ignored the strange look. She pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner on the private elevator. The doors slid open.

She watched the floor numbers climb. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

The doors parted on the top floor.

Audrey stepped out and headed straight for the double mahogany doors of the CEO's office.

Max Keller, Kingston's executive assistant, practically jumped out of his chair. He lunged into the hallway, blocking her path.

"Mrs. Savage!" Max stammered, sweat beading on his forehead. "You can't go in there. Mr. Savage is in a very important meeting."

Audrey stopped. She looked at Max's shifting eyes. Her stomach dropped. The sickening scent of rose and sandalwood from last night flooded her memory.

"Who is in there, Max?" her voice was dead calm, but her blood was turning to ice.

"It's... it's a private client," Max lied, shifting his weight to physically block the door handles.

Audrey didn't hesitate. Adrenaline surged through her veins. She shoved Max hard in the chest. He stumbled back, caught off guard by her sudden strength.

She grabbed the heavy brass handle and shoved the door open.

The sight inside hit Audrey with the force of a physical blow. All the air vanished from her lungs.

Celestine Perry was sitting in Kingston's massive leather executive chair.

She was wearing a custom silk maternity dress. Her stomach was hugely, undeniably pregnant. At least seven months along.

Celestine spun the chair around. When she saw Audrey frozen in the doorway, a slow, toxic smirk spread across her perfectly painted lips.

Audrey's entire body went numb. The blood roared in her ears. The pregnancy test in her bag suddenly felt like a burning coal against her side.

Celestine placed a manicured hand on her swollen belly. She stood up slowly, her movements exaggerated and proud.

"Well," Celestine's voice was sickeningly sweet. "Look who finally decided to visit the office."

"Why are you here?" Audrey choked out, her voice cracking. Her eyes were glued to the massive bump. "Whose baby is that?"

Celestine let out a tinkling laugh. She walked around the desk, her heels sinking into the plush carpet.

"Whose do you think, Audrey?" Celestine stopped inches away. The stench of roses and sandalwood suffocated Audrey. "This is the true Savage heir. Kingston sings to him every night."

Audrey's vision went red. The absolute cruelty of it broke something inside her brain. She raised her right hand, her palm flying toward Celestine's smug face.

Celestine didn't flinch. Instead, she aggressively thrust her pregnant belly forward, right into the path of Audrey's swing.

Audrey's muscles locked. She stopped her hand an inch from Celestine's cheek. She couldn't do it. She couldn't strike a pregnant woman. The moral restraint made her physically sick with frustration.

Celestine saw the hesitation and smiled. She leaned in, her lips brushing Audrey's ear.

"You're just a cheap, defective placeholder," Celestine whispered. "The real owner is back. It's time for you to roll over and die."

Audrey's fingernails dug so hard into her palms that the skin broke. Hot blood seeped into the creases of her hands. She stared at Celestine, a raw, unadulterated hatred igniting in her chest.

The door to the private suite attached to the office clicked open.

"What the hell is going on out here?"

Kingston stepped into the office. He was wearing nothing but a white hotel robe, a towel rubbing roughly at his wet hair.

Water dripped from Kingston's dark hair, sliding down his sharp jawline. He froze, his dark eyes snapping from Audrey to Celestine.

The second Celestine saw him, her smug expression vanished. She let out a pathetic, high-pitched gasp. She clutched her swollen belly and stumbled backward, pretending to lose her balance from Audrey's glare.

"Kingston!" Celestine cried out, her knees buckling.

Kingston's face went pale. He dropped the towel. He crossed the room in a blur of motion, his long arms shooting out to catch Celestine before she hit the floor. He pulled her tightly against his chest, his hands hovering protectively over her stomach.

Audrey watched her husband hold another woman. It felt like someone had reached into her chest and crushed her heart with bare hands. The physical pain was blinding.

Kingston snapped his head up. His eyes locked onto Audrey, blazing with a terrifying rage.

"Are you out of your mind?" Kingston roared, his voice shaking the glass windows. "Coming to my office to attack a pregnant woman?"

Audrey let out a broken, hysterical laugh. She pointed a trembling finger at Celestine's belly, tears finally spilling over her lashes.

"Is this the meeting you had last night?" Audrey screamed, her throat tearing with the force of it. "Is this why you smell like her?"

Kingston didn't even bother to look at his robe. He didn't offer a single word of explanation.

"Watch your mouth," Kingston warned, his tone lethal. "Celestine cannot handle this kind of stress right now."

Celestine buried her face in Kingston's chest. But she turned her head just enough so only Audrey could see her face.

Celestine smiled. It was the smile of a venomous snake. She mouthed a sentence, forming the words perfectly with her lips.

Your crippled mother's car crash wasn't an accident.

The words hit Audrey like a freight train.

Her adoptive mother. The car crash that left her in a vegetative state. It was the deepest, most agonizing wound of Audrey's life.

All reason evaporated. A primal, violent scream ripped from Audrey's throat. She lunged forward, her hands reaching for Celestine's throat.

She didn't even make it halfway.

Kingston stepped in front of Celestine. He raised his arm and shoved Audrey backward with brutal force.

He didn't hold back. Audrey flew backward like a broken doll. Her spine slammed violently against the sharp edge of the marble coffee table.

A sickening crack echoed in her ears. Blinding agony shot through her lower back and ripped across her abdomen.

Audrey collapsed onto the carpet. She curled into a tight ball, clutching her stomach as the pain threatened to make her pass out.

"My baby!" Audrey sobbed, panic clawing at her throat. She looked up at Kingston through her tears. "Kingston, please! I'm pregnant too!"

Dead silence fell over the office.

Celestine's eyes darted nervously, a flash of genuine panic crossing her face before she quickly masked it.

Kingston stood over Audrey. He didn't drop to his knees. He didn't reach out to help her.

He looked down at her with a level of disgust so profound it made Audrey's blood run cold. He looked at her like she was a rotting animal on the side of the road.

He let out a dark, hollow laugh. He took a slow step forward, the sole of his leather shoe sinking heavily into the carpet next to her face.

Kingston crouched down. He reached out and pinched her jaw, his fingers digging painfully into her bone.

"Pregnant?" Kingston said, his voice a deadly, quiet hiss. "Do you think I am a fucking idiot, Audrey?"

Audrey shook her head, her tears dripping onto his hand. "No, Kingston, I swear-"

"I had a vasectomy five years ago," Kingston stated, the words slicing through the air like a guillotine. "Long before you ever managed to trap me into this marriage."

Audrey's breath stopped. Her eyes widened in absolute horror.

A vasectomy.

The lie was so massive, so completely reality-shattering, her brain couldn't process it. She knew she hadn't touched another man. But Kingston believed it as absolute truth.

"No," Audrey gasped, struggling to breathe. "No, that's impossible, Kingston, I-"

Kingston's eyes were pitch black with violent fury. In his mind, she was a lying, cheating whore trying to force another man's bastard onto the Savage name.

He stood up abruptly. He pulled a white silk handkerchief from the pocket of his discarded suit jacket on the chair. He wiped the fingers that had just touched her face, scrubbing the skin as if she had infected him.

He threw the crumpled handkerchief down. It landed directly on Audrey's cheek.

"How could you do this to him, Audrey?" Celestine gasped from the background, playing the horrified victim perfectly.

Audrey couldn't speak. The physical pain in her stomach was nothing compared to the death of her soul in that exact moment. She stared at the carpet, her love for this man turning to ash in her chest.

Kingston slammed his fist onto the intercom button on his desk.

"Security. Top floor. Now," he barked.

Seconds later, the heavy doors burst open. Four massive men in black suits flooded the room.

"Take her to the Hamptons estate," Kingston ordered, his voice devoid of any human emotion. "Lock her in the third-floor guest room. If a single fly gets in or out without my permission, you are all fired."

Two guards grabbed Audrey by her arms. They hauled her roughly off the floor.

Audrey didn't fight them. Her body hung limp in their grip. She turned her head and looked at Kingston one last time. She memorized the coldness in his eyes. She memorized Celestine's victorious smirk.

They dragged her out of the office. Max stood in the hallway, looking away, unable to meet her dead eyes.

As the elevator doors closed, cutting off the sight of her husband, Audrey instinctively curled her hands over her flat stomach. The tears stopped falling. A cold, terrifying resolve locked into place in her mind.

She was going to run.

The storm battered the Hamptons estate. Rain lashed against the bulletproof glass of the third-floor bedroom window.

Audrey stood by the glass, her skin pale and translucent. Below, in the flooded courtyard, guards in black raincoats patrolled the perimeter, holding the leashes of snarling Dobermans.

She had been locked in this room for exactly one week. Her phone was gone. The landline was dead. She had refused to eat, surviving only on tap water. Her body was weak, but her mind was razor-sharp with desperation.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway.

The heavy oak door unlocked with a loud clack and swung open.

Celestine walked in. She was wearing a designer trench coat over her pregnant belly. Behind her stood two men carrying black medical bags.

Audrey immediately backed away from the window. Her hand shot out and grabbed the only weapon in the room-a heavy, solid silver letter opener from the writing desk. She held it up, her knuckles white.

"What are you doing here?" Audrey demanded, her voice hoarse from disuse.

Celestine smiled. She unbuttoned her coat and handed it to a guard in the hall.

"Kingston signed the medical proxy," Celestine said, her voice light and conversational. "He doesn't want your little bastard complicating the divorce. The doctors are here to clean out the trash."

Audrey's heart slammed against her ribs. The air left her lungs.

He was going to kill her baby. He wasn't even going to wait for a DNA test.

The two doctors put on latex gloves. One of them pulled a syringe filled with clear liquid from his bag. They stepped toward her, their faces blank.

A primal, maternal rage exploded inside Audrey.

As the first doctor reached for her arm, Audrey lunged. She slashed the silver letter opener across his forearm.

The doctor shouted in pain, stumbling back and clutching his bleeding arm.

Taking advantage of the shock, Audrey spun around. She grabbed the heavy brass base of the desk lamp and swung it with all her remaining strength into the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror.

Glass shattered, exploding outward in a shower of jagged daggers.

Audrey dropped the lamp. She snatched a six-inch shard of mirror from the floor. Without hesitating, she pressed the razor-sharp edge directly against her own carotid artery.

A thin line of blood immediately welled up against the glass.

"Take one more step," Audrey hissed, her eyes wide and completely feral. "I will slice my own throat open right here. Let's see how Kingston handles the PR nightmare of his wife bleeding to death in his house."

Celestine froze. The smugness vanished, replaced by genuine fear. She looked at the blood dripping down Audrey's neck. The guards in the hallway hesitated, unsure how to handle a suicide threat.

Audrey didn't wait for them to process it. She bolted.

She shoved past the bleeding doctor, sprinting through the doorway. Before Celestine or the guards could react, Audrey slammed the heavy oak door shut from the hallway and threw the deadbolt, locking them inside.

Alarms instantly shrieked through the mansion. Red strobe lights pulsed on the walls.

Audrey ran. She was barefoot, her feet slapping against the hardwood floors. She bypassed the main staircase and threw open the door to the narrow, steep servants' stairs.

She practically fell down the steps, her breath burning in her chest. She burst through the bottom door and sprinted into the underground garage.

The garage was a showroom of luxury cars. Her eyes locked onto the far corner.

Kingston's prized vintage Aston Martin.

The keys were kept in a glass lockbox on the wall. Audrey didn't slow down. She wrapped her hand in the sleeve of her sweater and punched the glass. It shattered, cutting her knuckles.

She grabbed the keys, ripped open the heavy door of the Aston Martin, and threw herself into the driver's seat.

She jammed the key into the ignition. The V12 engine roared to life, a deafening mechanical beast waking up.

Audrey slammed her foot on the gas. The tires shrieked against the polished concrete. The car launched forward, smashing straight through the wooden security arm of the garage exit and launching into the torrential rain.

The coastal highway was a black ribbon of slick asphalt. The rain was coming down in sheets, making visibility near zero.

Audrey checked the rearview mirror. Three black security SUVs were already on her tail, their high beams blinding her.

The lead SUV surged forward. It slammed its heavy grill into the rear bumper of the Aston Martin.

Audrey's head whipped back against the headrest. The sports car fishtailed wildly on the wet road. She gripped the steering wheel, fighting the slide, her arms shaking from the exertion.

If they caught her, her baby was dead.

Up ahead, the massive steel structure of the suspension bridge loomed over the churning, black waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

The SUV behind her accelerated, pulling up parallel to her driver's side door. The passenger window rolled down. A guard leaned out, aiming a black taser gun directly at her window.

Audrey looked forward.

Her blood ran cold.

A fourth black SUV was parked horizontally across the center of the bridge, completely blocking both lanes.

She slammed on the brakes. The Aston Martin skidded, the tires screaming over the wet pavement. The car jerked to a halt less than thirty feet from the blockade.

The guards poured out of the SUVs. They drew their weapons, fanning out in a semi-circle, advancing on her car.

Through the cracked window, Audrey heard the crackle of a guard's radio.

Kingston's voice came through the static, cold and absolute. "Take her alive."

Audrey looked at the men advancing on her. Then she turned her head and looked out the passenger window.

Beyond the steel guardrail, the ocean raged. Black, violent waves crashed against the concrete pillars of the bridge.

She looked down at her stomach. She placed a bloody hand over it.

She shifted the gear into reverse.

She slammed the gas pedal. The Aston Martin shot backward, putting a hundred feet between her and the guards.

Then, she shifted into drive.

The guards stopped walking. Their eyes widened in horror as they realized what she was doing.

Audrey didn't go for the blockade. She turned the steering wheel hard to the right.

She floored the accelerator. The engine screamed.

She didn't close her eyes. She stared at the approaching steel barrier.

Kingston, she vowed in the silence of her own mind. If I survive this, I will burn your empire to the ground.

The Aston Martin hit the guardrail at ninety miles an hour.

The sound of tearing metal ripped through the storm. The heavy steel barrier snapped. The car launched into the empty air.

For one second, there was weightlessness.

Then, the car slammed nose-first into the freezing, black waters of the Atlantic, vanishing instantly beneath the violent waves.