Eldridge collapsed back onto the edge of the hospital bed. He buried his face in his small, manicured hands. His breathing was shallow and rapid. The panic was a physical weight crushing his chest.

Ava picked up a green apple from the fruit basket on the table. She picked up a sharp paring knife. She started peeling the apple. Her movements were clumsy in the large hands, the blade cutting too deep into the flesh of the fruit.

Eldridge snapped his head up.

"Stop that," he ordered, his voice trembling slightly. "You are going to cut my hand."

Ava paused. She looked at the knife, then at Eldridge. A slow, dark smile spread across her face.

She intentionally let the blade slip. The sharp steel sliced across the pad of her thumb. A bright bead of red blood welled up instantly.

Eldridge gasped, his stomach dropping as if he were on a rollercoaster.

Ava brought the thumb to her mouth and licked the blood away, maintaining dead eye contact with him.

"Are you insane? !" Eldridge yelled. He lunged forward, grabbing her wrist with both hands, desperately trying to pry the knife away. His chest pressed against her arm, the female breasts heaving with exertion.

A hot flush of intense humiliation burned Eldridge's cheeks. He let go and stumbled backward, disgusted by the physical sensations of the body he was in.

Ava tossed the knife onto the table. She leaned back against the wall, crossing her long legs.

"Since we are in this situation," Eldridge said, wrapping his arms around his waist to hide his chest, "we will sign the divorce papers right now."

Ava let out a harsh, barking laugh.

"You must be joking," Ava said. "If Eldridge Hall divorces his wife the day after they both fall down a flight of stairs, Hall Corp's stock will tank before the market even opens."

"I don't care about your company's stock," Eldridge spat back. "I am Ava now. It doesn't affect me."

"Oh, really?" Ava pushed off the wall and took a slow step toward him. "Did you forget the prenup you forced me to sign? The at-fault party leaves with absolutely nothing. If we divorce now, you, as Ava, will walk out of this hospital with zero dollars in your bank account. You will be begging on the streets of New York."

Eldridge's mouth opened, but no sound came out. The blood drained from his face.

"If anyone finds out about this," Eldridge whispered, his voice tight, "they will lock us both in a psychiatric ward. We will lose everything."

Ava stopped. Her jaw clenched. He was right. She needed Eldridge's identity, his power, and his money to fix the mess her life had become.

The door handle rattled. Dr. Harrison walked in, followed by two female nurses.

"Mr. Hall, Mrs. Hall," Dr. Harrison said, looking at his clipboard. "How are we feeling? Any dizziness, Mr. Hall?"

Ava stiffened her posture. "Fine," she said, keeping her voice low and steady.

One of the nurses walked over to Eldridge.

"Mrs. Hall, I need to unbutton your gown to check the bruising on your ribs," the nurse said, reaching out.

Eldridge's eyes widened in absolute horror. He slapped his hands over his chest and let out a shrill, panicked scream.

"Don't touch me!" he yelled, pressing himself flat against the headboard.

The nurse jumped back, startled. Dr. Harrison frowned, looking concerned.

Ava bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. She stepped forward and gently placed her large hand over the nurse's wrist.

"My wife is still in shock from the fall," Ava said, her voice dripping with fake, husbandly concern. "Let me do it."

Eldridge glared at her, his eyes shooting pure venom. But with the medical staff watching, he was trapped.

Ava stepped right up to the edge of the bed. She reached out and unbuttoned the top three buttons of the gown, exposing the pale skin and the dark purple bruise blooming over the ribs.

Ava pressed her thumb directly into the center of the bruise. She pushed hard.

Eldridge let out a sharp, breathless cry of genuine pain, his hands flying up to grab her wrist.

"Looks tender, Doctor," Ava said smoothly, ignoring his grip.

Dr. Harrison made a note. "Keep her resting. We will do another scan later."

The medical team left the room. The moment the door clicked shut, Eldridge slapped Ava's hand away and scrambled to button the gown, his face burning red.

"Do not ever touch this body again," Eldridge hissed, his voice shaking with rage.

Ava walked over to the sink and washed her hands.

"It is my body," Ava said, drying her hands on a paper towel. "I will touch it whenever I want."

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

"Fine," Eldridge finally said, rubbing his temples. "We cover for each other. Until we figure out how to reverse this."

"I agree," Ava said. She turned around, her eyes locking onto his. "But on one condition. You cut all contact with Bird Blair."

Eldridge's head snapped up. "Bird has nothing to do with this. Leave her out of it."

Ava's blood boiled. Even now, trapped in a woman's body, his first instinct was to protect his precious white lotus.

Ava walked over to the bedside table on Eldridge's side. She picked up the sleek black smartphone.

Eldridge lunged off the bed. "Give me that!"

Ava simply held the phone high above her head. Eldridge jumped, but the female body was too short, too weak. He stumbled and fell back onto the mattress, panting.

Ava held the phone in front of her face. The screen lit up. The Face ID scanned her features-Eldridge's features. The padlock icon clicked open.

Eldridge watched in sheer horror as the ultimate barrier of his privacy vanished.

Ava tapped the screen. She opened the messages app. Bird Blair's name was pinned at the top.

Ava read the messages out loud. "'Are you okay, El? I heard about the fall. I'm so worried. Please tell me we are still on for Le Bernardin tonight.'"

Ava lowered the phone. She looked down at Eldridge, who was sitting on the bed, completely defeated and exposed.

Ava slipped the phone under her pillow.

"Since you refuse to cut her off," Ava said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "I will go to the dinner tonight. I will go in your place."

The black Maybach glided smoothly into the underground garage of the penthouse building.

Ava pushed the heavy car door open. She swung her long legs out, relishing the freedom of the tailored suit trousers. She stood up, feeling the solid, grounded weight of the male body.

From the other side of the car, Eldridge struggled. He pushed the door open, but his tight pencil skirt restricted his movement. He tried to step out, but the thin heel of the stiletto caught on the edge of the floorboard.

"Damn it," Eldridge muttered, his voice a frustrated squeak. His ankle wobbled dangerously.

Ava stopped and looked over the roof of the car. Her eyes were cold.

"Watch your posture," Ava commanded. "You are Ava Downs now. Do not walk like a dockworker."

Eldridge glared at her, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the car door for balance.

They rode the private elevator up to the penthouse in silence. The doors slid open. Ava walked straight past the living room and headed directly for the master suite's massive walk-in closet.

Eldridge followed, his calves burning from the unnatural angle of the heels.

Ava stood in the men's section. She ran her fingers over the row of bespoke suits. She pulled out a deep navy Brioni suit and held it up against her chest in the full-length mirror. The fit was impeccable.

On the other side of the closet, Eldridge stood frozen in front of the women's section. The racks were filled with silk, lace, and complex designer dresses. He felt a wave of suffocation.

He grabbed a simple black dress and pulled it over his head. He reached around his back, his fingers fumbling blindly for the tiny, invisible zipper. His shoulders ached. He started to sweat, the frustration mounting until he wanted to scream.

Ava watched him through the reflection in the mirror. She let out a short, mocking laugh.

She walked over to him. Without a word, she grabbed the zipper tab and yanked it down violently.

The fabric parted. The cool air hit Eldridge's bare back.

Eldridge gasped. He spun around, his arms crossing instinctively over his chest to cover himself. His face flushed a deep, humiliating crimson.

"What are you doing? !" he yelled.

Ava rolled her eyes. She grabbed a conservative silk robe off a hook and threw it at his face.

"Stop acting like a virgin," Ava sneered. "I have seen every inch of that body."

Eldridge clutched the robe tightly around himself, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"What is your plan?" Eldridge demanded, his voice shaking.

Ava pulled the smartphone from her pocket. She tapped the screen and dialed a number.

"Miles," Ava said, forcing her vocal cords to mimic Eldridge's flat, authoritative tone perfectly.

Eldridge lunged forward to grab the phone.

Ava didn't even look at him. She took a step forward, pressing her knee firmly into his stomach, pinning him against the edge of the velvet ottoman.

Eldridge pushed against her leg, but it was like pushing against a concrete pillar. He couldn't move an inch.

"Push my reservation at Le Bernardin back by thirty minutes," Ava said into the phone. "And have a bouquet of red roses waiting at the table."

Miles agreed instantly. Ava hung up and dropped the phone back into her pocket. She lowered her leg.

Eldridge stumbled forward, gasping for breath.

"Don't do this," Eldridge pleaded, looking up at her. "Bird is fragile. She doesn't understand what is happening. Do not hurt her."

The air in the closet turned to ice.

Ava reached out and grabbed the lapels of the silk robe, pulling Eldridge up onto his tiptoes.

"She is fragile?" Ava hissed, her face inches from his. The raw hatred in her eyes made Eldridge's blood run cold. "Then what am I, Eldridge? What am I? !"

Eldridge swallowed hard. The words died in his throat. He had never seen this kind of violent emotion from her before.

Ava shoved him backward. She dusted off her hands as if she had touched something filthy. She turned and walked into the master bathroom to get ready.

Eldridge stood alone in the closet. He looked at his reflection. The soft, terrified eyes of his wife stared back at him. A deep, gnawing panic settled in his stomach.

He had to stop her. He had to get to the restaurant.

He frantically searched the closet for something, anything, he could run in. He looked for flat shoes. There were none. Only rows and rows of stilettos and high-heeled boots.

He grabbed a trench coat, shoved his feet into a pair of low-heeled pumps, and ran out of the closet.

Ava walked out of the bathroom. She was dressed in the navy suit. She had sprayed Eldridge's signature Tom Ford Oud Wood cologne on her neck. The heavy, masculine scent filled the room, a clear declaration of her dominance.

She looked at Eldridge, who was struggling to tie the belt of the trench coat.

"Going somewhere?" Ava asked, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Coming to spy on me?"

"I am going to protect her from you," Eldridge said through gritted teeth.

Ava shrugged. She picked up the keys to the Aston Martin from the console table.

"Suit yourself," Ava said. "If you can keep up."

Ava walked out the door, her strides long and effortless. Eldridge tried to run after her, but his ankle gave out on the thick carpet, sending him stumbling against the wall.

By the time Eldridge reached the underground garage, Ava was already sitting in the driver's seat of the Aston Martin. The engine roared to life, a deep, guttural growl that echoed off the concrete walls.

Eldridge limped toward the passenger side, reaching for the door handle.

The car jerked forward, pulling out of his reach.

Ava rolled down the window. She looked at him standing there in the dim light, wearing a trench coat and women's shoes.

"Take a cab, honey," Ava said.

She slammed her foot on the gas. The tires screeched. The car shot up the ramp and disappeared into the New York night, leaving Eldridge choking on the exhaust fumes, screaming her name into the empty garage.