The afternoon sun hit the surface of the Hamptons estate's heated pool, scattering blinding reflections across the water. Adriene lay on a lounge chair, her eyes closed.

The signed divorce agreement was already locked safely inside a bank vault in Manhattan. For the first time in years, the crushing weight in her chest was gone. She felt light.

The sharp, aggressive click-clack of high heels against the marble deck broke the silence. Adriene didn't move. She knew the sound. Elaina walked over, wearing a bright red bikini, and waved away the two pool attendants.

Elaina stopped right next to Adriene's chair. She looked down, her eyes filled with toxic malice.

"Stay away from me," Adriene said, keeping her eyes shut. "I'm tired of your cheap tricks."

Elaina leaned down. The fragile, victim persona vanished entirely. "He was in my room again last night," Elaina whispered, her voice thick with vulgar pride. "He held me for hours. He told me how much he hates touching you."

Adriene's eyes snapped open. They were sharp and cold. "You really are pathetic," Adriene sneered. "Picking up trash from the gutter and calling it a prize."

The insult hit Elaina's deepest insecurity-her low-class background. Her face twisted into an ugly snarl, the skin around her eyes pulling tight with rage.

Just then, Elaina's eyes flicked to the glass doors leading into the house. Dallin was walking quickly toward the pool, holding his phone to his ear.

A flash of absolute madness crossed Elaina's face. She lunged forward and grabbed Adriene's wrist with a painful grip.

Adriene reacted purely on instinct. She yanked her arm back to break the hold. The force wasn't strong, but Elaina used the momentum. She threw her arms up into the air and violently threw herself backward.

Elaina let out a bloodcurdling scream as she tipped over the edge and crashed into the deep end of the heated pool.

Water exploded into the air. Elaina thrashed wildly, swallowing water and screaming for help, playing the role of a drowning victim perfectly.

The glass doors slammed open. Dallin dropped his phone. His eyes went wide with panic as he saw Elaina sinking. He didn't see the setup; he only saw Adriene pulling her arm back.

A guttural roar ripped from Dallin's throat. He sprinted across the marble deck like a wild animal. Adriene was standing between him and the edge of the pool.

Adriene started to step back to let him pass, but Dallin didn't wait. He didn't even slow down. To save a fraction of a second, he threw his hands out and shoved Adriene with every ounce of his strength.

The force lifted Adriene off her feet. She was thrown backward like a broken doll.

She flew through the air and crashed down hard. Her shoulder and the side of her head slammed heavily against the flat, unyielding surface of the marble deck. Stars exploded violently behind her eyes.

White-hot agony exploded in Adriene's skull. The pain was so intense it paralyzed her lungs. Her vision instantly went black for a terrifying second before swimming back into focus. Warm, thick blood rushed from the gash on her forehead where the skin had split against the stone, pouring down her face and completely blinding her left eye.

At the exact same moment, a massive splash sounded as Dallin dove into the water, fully clothed.

Adriene curled into a tight ball on the hard stone. She clutched her bleeding head, a weak, breathless moan escaping her lips.

In the pool, Dallin grabbed Elaina, who was pretending to be unconscious. He held her tight against his chest, kicking furiously toward the shallow end. His face was a portrait of absolute terror and heartbreak.

He dragged Elaina out of the water. He scooped her into his arms and marched toward the house. He stepped right over Adriene's legs. The cold water dripping from his expensive leather shoes splashed directly onto Adriene's pale, blood-smeared cheek.

Adriene forced her right eye open. Through the red haze of her own blood, she stared at his broad back.

"Dallin..." she gasped, her voice trembling, begging for help.

He didn't stop walking. He didn't even turn his head. "If she dies, I will bury you," he snarled, his voice devoid of any human warmth.

He disappeared down the hallway.

Adriene lay alone on the marble deck. The throbbing in her head matched the frantic beating of her heart. The blood dripped steadily onto the pristine white stone, forming a dark, terrifying puddle. The cold from the marble seeped deep into her bones.

She stared at the blood. And then, she smiled.

Her chest shook as a broken, hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat. A tear mixed with the blood running down her face.

She stopped fighting the pain. She let her body go limp against the cold stone. In that exact moment, the last microscopic shred of hope she had for her marriage burned to ash.

The world around Adriene felt like it was submerged in water. The sounds of the estate were muffled, replaced by a high-pitched ringing in her ears. The cold marble beneath her was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

Brenda, the maid, walked down the adjacent hallway carrying a silver tray of fresh fruit. She glanced through the floor-to-ceiling glass doors and froze.

A horrific scream tore from Brenda's throat. The silver tray crashed to the floor, sending grapes and sliced melon skittering across the tiles. She shoved the glass door open and sprinted to the pool deck.

"Mrs. Morales!" Brenda cried, dropping to her knees. She saw the deep gash on Adriene's forehead and the massive pool of dark blood. Her hands shook violently as she grabbed a clean pool towel and pressed it hard against the wound.

Brenda reached for the radio clipped to her apron. "I'm calling the estate doctor. Stay with me!"

A bloody hand shot out and clamped down on Brenda's wrist with surprising strength.

Adriene opened her right eye. Her face was terrifyingly pale, but her gaze was sharp and unyielding. She slowly shook her head. "No," she rasped, her throat dry. "Don't say a word. Help me up."

"But you're bleeding to death!" Brenda sobbed.

"Help me up," Adriene commanded, leaving no room for argument.

Terrified, Brenda slid her arms under Adriene's shoulders and hauled her to her feet. The world spun violently, and Adriene's stomach he heave, but she locked her knees and forced herself to stand.

She pushed Brenda away. She refused to go to the medical wing. A sick, masochistic clarity had taken over her brain. She needed to see it. She needed to see exactly what the man who had just left her to die was doing.

Adriene dragged her feet across the floor. Every step sent a shockwave of agony through her skull. Drops of her blood fell onto the plush red carpets of the hallway, soaking into the fabric without a trace.

She reached the heavy mahogany door of the luxury guest suite where Elaina was staying. The door was cracked open just an inch, letting out the warm, flickering light of the fireplace.

Adriene leaned her shoulder heavily against the cold wall. She held her breath and looked through the narrow gap.

Inside, Elaina was propped up against the massive headboard, wrapped in a thick cashmere blanket. She was whimpering softly, her lower lip trembling as she played the role of the traumatized victim.

Dallin sat on the edge of the mattress. His clothes were still soaked, clinging to his skin, but he didn't care. He was holding a dry towel, gently and meticulously drying Elaina's hair.

The look in his eyes-the profound, aching tenderness-was something Adriene had never seen directed at her in three years of marriage.

Elaina grabbed Dallin's wrist. "I'm so scared, Dallin," she cried. "I'm so scared she's going to make the family throw me out. I have nothing."

Dallin turned his hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them deeply.

"Don't be afraid," Dallin said, his voice a low, fierce vow. "I am here. No one will ever touch you. If she ever tries to hurt you again, I will make her wish she was dead."

Outside the door, Adriene's chest caved in. It felt as if a giant, invisible hand had reached into her ribcage and crushed her heart into powder. She couldn't breathe.

Inside, Elaina sniffled, pressing her advantage. "But I don't have a child. The board hates me. My place in the Morales family is nothing."

The room went dead silent for five agonizing seconds.

Then, Dallin spoke the words that finally pushed Adriene over the edge of the abyss.

"I will use my supreme executive authority over the family trust," Dallin said, his tone heavy with absolute finality. "I will ensure you are granted a Morales heir."

"No one will ever question your place, Elaina. It's what I owe you."

The words struck Adriene like a physical blow to the stomach. He wasn't just protecting her. He was going to use medical surrogacy or adoption to bypass his own wife and hand the legacy of the Morales empire to this venomous woman.

Adriene slowly closed her eyes. A drop of blood slid down her nose and landed on her lips. It tasted like rust and salt.

She didn't feel sad anymore. She felt nothing but a dark, hollow amusement. It was all so incredibly pathetic.

She didn't push the door open. She didn't scream. She simply turned her back to the room.

She stood up perfectly straight, ignoring the screaming pain in her head, and walked away. Her steps were slow, but they were the steadiest steps she had taken in years.

She walked into her own bathroom and turned on the cold water. She cupped the freezing water in her hands and scrubbed the blood from her face.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. The woman who loved Dallin Morales was dead. The woman staring back had eyes like shattered ice.

Morning light streamed through the manor's enormous windows. Adriene stood before the mirror. She cleaned and bandaged her wounds herself. A striking white gauze pad clung to her pale forehead.

She opened the bedroom door and went out. Her face was completely expressionless.

As she reached the top of the grand staircase, she turned the corner and nearly bumped into Dallin. He was coming out of Elaina's bedroom, adjusting his cuffs.

Darlin stopped abruptly. His gaze swept quickly across the white bandage on Adeline's head, then settled on her bloodless face. A faint hint of shock—perhaps a touch of guilt—flickered in his eyes.

But he immediately masked it. He tightened his jaw, raised his chin slightly, and struck his signature arrogant pose. "What kind of morbid self-inflicted injury is this?" he questioned, pointing to her forehead.

Adeline stopped. She didn't look at the ground. She slowly raised her chin and looked directly into his eyes. Her gaze was so cold, so completely detached, as if she were staring at a stranger.

She didn't explain the wound. She let out a soft, mocking laugh.

“So,” Adeline said, her voice steady and cold, “you haven’t decided on an heir yet?”

Darlin's pupils dilated suddenly. His entire body stiffened. He stared at her in shock, completely caught off guard. He hadn't expected her to be at the door last night.

Shock quickly turned into defensive anger. He took a threatening step forward, his shadow looming over her. "Are you spying on me?" he hissed.

Adeline did not back down at all. "You're willing to tarnish the Morales bloodline just to please a widow. It's disgusting."

"Shut up!" Darlin roared, his voice echoing down the corridor. "Elena is pure! She's twice as good as you!"

The bedroom door clicked open. Elena stood in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweater, her eyes already glistening with tears. She was perfectly playing her role.

She staggered forward and grabbed the edge of Darlin's shirt. "Darlin, please," she sobbed, her lower lip trembling, "don't fight with your wife because of me. I'll pack my things. I'll leave."

Darlin immediately stretched out his arm, shielding Elena behind him. He glared at Adeline with pure hatred. "Look at her! Look how selfless she is! And look at your mean, jealous face!"

A strong, physical sense of disgust welled up in Adeline's heart. The urge to reach out and tear off the wigs and extensions from Irene's head was so intense that she couldn't control herself.

She took a step forward, her hands trembling. Darlin immediately lunged at her, his large hands gripping Adeline's wrists with a force capable of crushing bones.

Before Adeline could react, her phone began vibrating violently in her pocket. Once. Twice. Three times.

She took a deep breath, abruptly pulled her wrist away from Darlin's grip, and took out her phone.

An encrypted email from Kaia was displayed on the screen. The subject line read: "The truth you want." The email body read: "I've had my private investigator look into her for weeks since my trip to Aspen, and one of her vengeful exes just dropped a bombshell on me."

Adeline tapped the screen. The attachment opened.

She stared at the high-resolution photos of Elena. The "innocent" woman, dressed in a cheap, revealing bunny girl outfit, sat on the laps of three different men in a squalid underground casino in Las Vegas.

She scrolled down. The background check detailed Elena's chaotic and sordid past: multiple arrests for petty fraud, working as an escort, and a series of ruined lives.

The rage burning in Adeline's chest vanished. It dissipated, replaced by an absolute, intoxicating power.

Adeline laughed.

This wasn't a bitter laugh. It was a genuine, bright, and chilling laugh that echoed loudly in the silent corridor.

Darlin and Elena froze, staring at her as if she were a madwoman.

Adeline slowly looked up from her phone. She looked at Darlin. The anger in her eyes had vanished. In its place, she looked at him with a deep, overwhelming pity. She looked at him as if he were the most foolish creature in the world.

“What’s so funny?” Darlin asked, his brow furrowed in utter confusion.

Adeline locked her phone and slid it back into her pocket. She wasn't going to show it to him. It wasn't the right time. If she showed it to him now, his arrogant mind would only accuse her of photoshopping it.

She turned her gaze to Elena. Adeline's eyes were deep, knowing, and deadly.

Elena gasped. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She shrank further behind Darin.

Adeline gracefully smoothed the front of her shirt. "I wish you both, Darlin, a very long and very 'pure' life together," she said, her tone light and casual.

She turned and headed for the stairs. Her high heels clicked crisply on the floor. She didn't look back.

Darlin stood frozen in the corridor. He watched her walk away, his chest tightening. For the first time in his life, a cold, uncontrollable panic began to spread through his heart.