The heavy oak front door of Red Leaf Manor clicked open. Kahlil stepped into the foyer. The muscles in his neck were tight, a dull ache throbbing at the base of his skull from a twelve-hour workday.

He walked straight into the dining room. He stopped. His eyes immediately went to the head of the table. The chair was empty. Bianca was not there.

Instead, the table was set perfectly. Steam rose from plates of roasted meat and seasoned vegetables. Cassandra sat quietly at the side, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

Kahlil's jaw clenched. He looked from the empty chair to Cassandra. "Where is Bianca?" His voice was flat, carrying the usual cold distance he reserved for this house.

Cassandra lowered her chin. Her fingers drifted up to touch her collarbone, a picture of fragile hesitation. "Sister Bianca... she was in the kitchen earlier, but she seemed very frustrated. She left before I could ask."

She paused, taking a shallow breath. "I saw her struggling, so I made this instead. I hope you don't mind."

Kahlil pulled out his chair and sat down. He picked up his fork. He took a bite. The food was good. It was exactly the way he liked it.

But his stomach twisted with irritation. Bianca cooking? The image didn't fit. She was a Sinclair. She barely knew how to operate the coffee machine.

Cassandra watched his face carefully. "She seemed upset. Maybe about the family matters?"

Kahlil's hand froze. The fork hovered over his plate. The words 'family matters' hit him like a physical blow, reminding him of the Sinclair family's constant pressure and the suffocating marriage trap. His eyes darkened.

He dropped the fork. It clattered loudly against the porcelain plate. He reached for his water glass, his thumb rubbing hard against the condensation on the rim. "She didn't say where she went?"

Cassandra shook her head. Her eyes were wide and innocent. "No. She just left. I was worried, but..."

Kahlil let out a harsh breath. A hot wave of annoyance washed over his chest. Bianca was always like this. Selfish. Unpredictable. Impossible to control.

He stood up so fast his chair scraped violently against the floor. He didn't take another bite. He walked out of the dining room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway, vibrating with suppressed anger.

Cassandra sat alone at the table. She stared at his half-empty plate. The corners of mouth twitched upward into a slow, satisfied smile.

Upstairs, Bianca stood in her bedroom. She ripped the flour-stained shirt over her head and threw it hard into the laundry basket. Her skin was hot, her chest rising and falling with jagged breaths.

Mrs. Gable held out a black silk slip dress. "Madam, where are you going at this hour?"

Bianca snatched the dress. Her voice was thick and tight. "Out. I need a drink. Or ten."

Mrs. Gable wrung her hands. "Please be careful. And Mr. Montgomery... he's home."

Bianca's fingers stopped pulling the zipper. A sharp pain shot through her chest. She let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Good for him. Let him enjoy Cassandra's little performance."

She pulled the dress into place. She sat at her vanity, applying dark eyeliner with aggressive, sharp strokes. She pulled her hair up into a messy twist. It felt like putting on armor.

She grabbed her clutch and walked out of the bedroom. She marched down the stairs. As she passed the dining room, she glanced inside. The lights were dim. Kahlil was gone. A maid was clearing the plates.

A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down on her lungs. She swallowed hard, forcing her legs to move faster toward the garage.

Frank, the driver, stood by the black SUV. He quickly opened the back door. "Where to, Madam?"

Bianca slid onto the leather seat. "The Elysium Club."

The car pulled out of the driveway, merging into the dark night. Bianca leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. She closed her eyes. The neon streetlights flashed across her face in rapid, blinding bursts.

Her stomach churned. She thought of Cassandra's fake smile in the kitchen. She thought of Kahlil sitting at that table, eating Cassandra's food, probably relieved his wife wasn't there to ruin his evening.

Her fingernails dug deep into the leather of her clutch. Her throat burned. She needed the burn of alcohol. She needed to feel something other than this crushing, humiliating rejection.

The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floorboards of The Elysium Club, traveling straight up Bianca's legs and settling in her chest. She sat in the corner of a curved leather booth in the VIP section.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the glass table in front of her. She picked up her glass and swallowed the amber liquid in one gulp. The alcohol burned a fiery path down her throat, hitting her stomach with a heavy, numb warmth.

Her head pounded in time with the strobe lights, but she poured another glass. She wanted the numbness to spread. She wanted to forget the image of Kahlil and Cassandra in that dining room.

A tall shadow fell over her table, blocking the harsh purple lights. Aydin Lee slid into the booth opposite her.

He wore a tailored casual suit, his posture relaxed. He reached across the table and smoothly pulled the whiskey bottle away from her hand. He poured a small amount into an empty glass.

"Rough night, princess?" His voice was a low, magnetic rumble that cut through the club's noise.

Bianca glared at him. Her vision was slightly blurred, but her tone was sharp. "What's it to you, Aydin?"

Aydin shrugged. He leaned back against the leather cushions. "Just making sure my favorite customer doesn't drink herself to death on my premises. Bad for business."

He lifted a hand. A waiter appeared instantly, placing a tall glass of ice water and a plate of small, elegant appetizers on the table.

Bianca ignored the food. She stared at her empty glass. Aydin didn't push. He just sat there, taking a slow sip of his drink, his presence a quiet anchor in the chaotic room.

After a few minutes, the alcohol loosened the tight knot in Bianca's throat. "Why do men always believe the worst?" Her words slurred slightly, heavy with a vulnerability she usually kept locked away.

Aydin raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly who she meant. "Which man? Your charming husband?"

Bianca let out a harsh, breathless laugh. "Charming? Ha. He thinks I'm incapable. Unfit. A burden."

Her chest heaved. The edges of her eyes burned with hot, unshed tears. "He'd rather believe a snake than see the truth."

Aydin's eyes darkened. He leaned forward. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. The movement was fluid, familiar.

"Then he's a fool, Bianca. And fools don't deserve you." His voice was dead serious.

Bianca flinched backward, but her reflexes were dulled by the whiskey. Aydin's fingertips grazed her skin. A wave of dizziness hit her. The room spun, the neon lights bleeding into one another.

"I... I should go." She pushed her hands against the glass table, trying to stand. Her knees buckled. She fell heavily back onto the leather seat.

Aydin was beside her in a second. He gripped her upper arm, his hold firm and steady. "You're in no state to drive. Or even walk straight. Let me take you home."

Bianca wanted to shake him off, but her muscles felt like liquid. Her head throbbed violently. She gave a weak nod.

Aydin pulled her to her feet. She swayed, her shoulder crashing into his chest. He wrapped an arm securely around her waist, taking most of her weight.

They walked through the crowded club. The smell of sweat and cheap perfume made Bianca nauseous. She rested her heavy head against Aydin's shoulder, her eyes slipping shut.

Outside, the cool night air hit her face. Aydin's black Maybach was parked at the curb. He opened the passenger door and carefully guided her into the seat. He reached across her, his chest brushing her arm, and clicked the seatbelt into place.

He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. The engine purred to life. Bianca sank into the soft leather, her mind drifting into a dark, spinning void.

Aydin glanced at her. His jaw was tight. He merged the car into the sparse midnight traffic, heading toward Red Leaf Manor.

Bianca mumbled something incoherent. Aydin reached out and turned down the air conditioning.

Inside Bianca's clutch, her phone began to vibrate violently. The screen lit up the dark interior of the car. The caller ID flashed: Mrs. Gable.

Aydin looked at the glowing screen. He didn't touch it. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road, unaware of the explosive trap waiting for them at the end of the drive.

The black Maybach rolled smoothly up the long, circular driveway of Red Leaf Manor. The tires crunched softly against the gravel before coming to a stop under the massive stone portico.

Aydin put the car in park. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out into the cool night air. He walked around the hood and pulled open the passenger door. The heavy scent of whiskey and Bianca's floral perfume spilled out into the night.

He leaned in. "We're here, Bianca." He reached across her and pressed the red button to release her seatbelt.

Bianca let out a soft groan. Her body was completely limp. She tilted sideways, practically falling out of the seat. Aydin caught her instantly. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, pulling her against his side to keep her upright.

Her head lolled onto his shoulder. Her eyes were half-closed, her breathing shallow. Aydin looked down at her, adjusting his grip to make sure she wouldn't slip.

"What a touching scene."

The voice sliced through the quiet night like a physical blade.

Aydin froze. Bianca's body jerked against him. She forced her heavy eyelids open.

Kahlil stepped out from the deep shadows of the front pillars. The dim porch light hit his face. His jaw was locked so tight the muscles jumped beneath his skin. His eyes were pure, terrifying black.

Aydin's grip on Bianca's waist tightened slightly. He offered a calm, flat smile. "Mr. Montgomery. Your wife had a bit too much. I was just ensuring she got home safely."

Kahlil walked forward. Each step was slow, deliberate, and heavy. His eyes never left Aydin's hand resting on Bianca's hip. His chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths.

"Safely?" Kahlil's voice was a low, dangerous growl. He reached up and violently yanked at his tie, loosening it. "You call this safe? Your hands all over her? In the middle of the night?"

The sheer force of Kahlil's rage sent a shock of adrenaline through Bianca's veins. The alcohol fog cleared just enough for panic to set in. She tried to push herself away from Aydin, her legs trembling. "Kahlil... it's not..."

Kahlil's head snapped toward her. "Shut up! Don't say a word!"

His roar echoed off the stone walls. Bianca flinched, her teeth biting down hard on her lower lip. Her stomach plummeted.

Kahlil turned his lethal glare back to Aydin. A cruel, ugly sneer twisted his lips. "Aydin Lee. The club owner. So, this is how you conduct business? By servicing your clients... personally?"

Aydin's calm facade cracked. His eyes hardened into ice. "I'd watch your tone, Montgomery. I was doing you a favor."

"Favor?" Kahlil let out a harsh, barking laugh. He stepped entirely into Aydin's personal space. "I don't need favors from men who look at my wife like she's their next meal."

Bianca's breath caught in her throat. The humiliation burned her skin like acid. Her hands shook. She wanted to scream, but her throat was completely paralyzed.

Aydin held Bianca steady. He looked Kahlil dead in the eye. "You're drunk on jealousy, not alcohol. And you're hurting her."

The word jealousy acted like a match to gasoline. Kahlil's vision went red. He lunged forward. He slapped Aydin's arm away with brutal force and grabbed Bianca's wrist.

He yanked her forward. Bianca stumbled, her high heels twisting on the pavement. She crashed hard into Kahlil's solid chest. The impact knocked the wind out of her. She smelled the sharp scent of his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of his anger.

Kahlil's arm clamped around her waist like a steel vice. His fingers dug painfully into her ribs. He didn't care. He glared at Aydin. "Leave. Now. Before I do something we both regret."

Aydin looked at Bianca's pale, terrified face. He looked back at Kahlil, his expression filled with absolute disgust. "Take care of her, Montgomery. Or someone else will."

Aydin turned, got into his car, and slammed the door. The engine roared, and the Maybach sped down the driveway, disappearing into the dark.

Kahlil didn't wait a single second. He spun around, dragging Bianca toward the massive front doors. His grip on her wrist was bone-crushing.

Bianca stumbled up the steps, her feet barely keeping up with his furious strides. "Kahlil, listen to me! I just drank too much, he..."

Kahlil stopped so abruptly Bianca slammed into his back. He spun around. He grabbed her upper arms, his fingers biting into her flesh. He leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"He what? Touched you? Held you? Made you smile while you were supposed to be here, in my house?"

Bianca stared up at him. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs. The raw, desperate possessiveness in his eyes terrified her. It wasn't just anger. It was agony.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The cold night air whipped around them, but the ice in Kahlil's eyes was colder.