Kahlil dragged Bianca through the front doors. He didn't stop in the foyer. He pulled her into the center of the brightly lit living room and shoved her forward.

Bianca lost her balance. She fell hard onto the leather sofa. Her spine cracked against the stiff cushions. A sharp jolt of pain shot up her back, clearing the last remnants of the whiskey from her brain. Her blood ran cold, quickly replaced by a boiling, violent humiliation.

Kahlil stood towering over her. His chest heaved. His hands were curled into tight fists at his sides.

"Explain." He spat the word out.

Bianca pushed her hands against the leather cushions and forced herself to sit up. She rubbed her throbbing wrist. Her eyes met his, completely devoid of fear now. Only ice remained.

"Explain what?" she snapped. "That I went out for a drink? That I got drunk? That a friend drove me home?"

Kahlil let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-snarl. "Friend? A friend who holds you like a lover? Who looks at you with hunger? Who whispers in your ear while you lean on him like a wanton?"

Bianca's stomach lurched. She jumped to her feet. The sudden movement made her dizzy, and she swayed, grabbing the edge of the heavy glass coffee table to keep from falling. Her face was chalk-white.

"Don't you dare!" she yelled, her voice tearing through her throat. "Aydin was just being a decent human being, unlike you!"

"Decent?" Kahlil closed the distance between them in one stride. He pointed a shaking finger inches from her face. "Decent men don't touch married women! They don't offer 'personal rides' at midnight!"

Bianca backed away from his aggressive energy until her shoulder blades hit the cold, hard plaster of the wall. She was trapped.

A sharp cramp twisted her stomach. The alcohol and the adrenaline were warring inside her body, making her nauseous. She swallowed hard, refusing to break eye contact.

"You're sick, Kahlil," she whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "Sick with jealousy and paranoia. You hate me, remember? So why do you care who I'm with?"

The words hit Kahlil like a physical blow. The muscles in his jaw locked. A dark, ugly red crept up his neck.

"I don't care!" he roared. The sound vibrated the crystal glasses on the bar cart. "I care about my dignity! My property! You are my wife in name, and you will not make a fool of me!"

The word property echoed in the silent room.

Bianca stopped breathing. A hot tear spilled over her lower lash line, tracking quickly down her cheek. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her shoulders shook.

"Property," she repeated. Her voice was hollow, stripped of all fight. "That's all I am to you. A piece of property. A means to an end."

Kahlil saw the tear. His hands twitched. A flash of intense, suffocating panic crossed his eyes, but he instantly buried it under a fresh layer of cruelty.

"Stop playing the victim!" he barked. "You brought this on yourself! Running away, drinking, whoring around-"

Smack.

The sharp, explosive sound of flesh hitting flesh stopped his words instantly.

Bianca's right hand hung in the air, stinging and trembling violently.

Kahlil's head was turned sharply to the left. A bright red handprint bloomed across his cheekbone. He stood completely frozen. He slowly turned his head back to look at her. The shock in his eyes was absolute.

Bianca didn't lower her hand. Her chest heaved. "Don't you ever... ever call me that again."

Her voice was low, vibrating with a deadly calm. "I have never been unfaithful to you. Not with Aydin, not with anyone. The only thing I'm guilty of is being trapped in this farce of a marriage with a man who despises me!"

Kahlil stared at her. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He opened his mouth, but his throat worked soundlessly. He let out a low, frustrated growl, spun on his heel, and marched toward the grand staircase.

"Where are you going?" Bianca called after him, her voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. "To call your lawyer? To start the divorce papers you've been dreaming of?"

Kahlil stopped at the bottom step. He didn't turn around. His shoulders were rigid. "Divorce? You think it's that easy? You're not going anywhere until I say so."

He looked over his shoulder. His eyes were black voids. "And you will stay away from Aydin Lee. I won't warn you again."

He took the stairs two at a time. The heavy thud of his footsteps faded down the second-floor hallway. A door slammed shut.

Bianca stood alone in the massive living room. The adrenaline crashed.

A blinding, agonizing pain ripped through her stomach. She gasped, her hands flying to her abdomen. Her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the hardwood floor, curling into a tight ball. The cold sweat poured down her back. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to even scream as the agony tore her apart.

Bianca lay on the cold hardwood floor. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest. Her stomach muscles contracted in violent, agonizing spasms. Every breath she took felt like inhaling broken glass. Cold sweat plastered her hair to her forehead.

"Madam!"

Mrs. Gable rushed into the living room, her slippers slapping frantically against the floor. She dropped to her knees beside Bianca, her hands hovering, terrified to touch her. "Madam, let me help you to your room. I'll call the doctor..."

Bianca squeezed her eyes shut. She shook her head, a weak, jerky movement. "No doctor," she gasped, her voice barely a raspy whisper. "Just help me up." She refused to let Kahlil see her broken on the floor. She refused to give him that satisfaction.

Before Mrs. Gable could slide her arms under Bianca's shoulders, the soft, rhythmic squeak of rubber wheels echoed from the hallway.

Cassandra rolled into the living room. Her face was a mask of exaggerated horror.

"Oh my! What happened? Sister Bianca?" Cassandra's voice pitched high with fake concern. Her eyes, however, darted over Bianca's trembling, curled-up body, gleaming with a sick, triumphant satisfaction.

Bianca forced her heavy eyelids open. The sight of Cassandra sitting comfortably in that wheelchair made the bile rise in her throat. She tried to speak, but another cramp hit her, forcing a sharp hiss through her teeth.

Cassandra rolled closer. She looked down at Bianca's pale, sweaty face. "You look terrible. Did you... drink too much? I heard voices..."

Cassandra paused. She touched her collarbone, feigning hesitation. "Oh. Was it about... Mr. Lee? I saw the photos..."

Bianca's breath stopped. Photos?

Cassandra pulled her phone from her lap. She tapped the screen and held it down so Bianca could see.

It was a picture of Aydin helping Bianca out of the car. The angle was perfectly manipulative. The shadows hid Aydin's hands unbuckling the seatbelt, making it look like Bianca was passionately throwing herself into his arms, their faces inches apart.

"I was so worried when I saw this," Cassandra whispered, her voice trembling. "I thought... I thought maybe you and Kahlil..."

Bianca stared at the glowing screen. Her vision blurred, but the image burned into her brain. Cassandra took this? Or Preston? It didn't matter. The trap was perfectly laid.

The physical pain in her stomach was suddenly eclipsed by a blinding, white-hot rage. She pushed Mrs. Gable away and forced herself up onto her knees, her hands shaking violently.

"You..." Bianca choked out, her eyes locking onto Cassandra's. "You took this? You sent it to Kahlil?"

Cassandra's eyes widened in mock panic. She pulled the phone back to her chest. "What? No! I... I just saw it on social media. Someone must have... I was trying to warn you!"

"You're lying." Bianca grabbed the edge of the coffee table, pulling herself up until she was standing, though she swayed dangerously. "You and your little schemes. You think I don't know what you're doing?"

Cassandra's lower lip quivered. Tears instantly pooled in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. "Why would you say that? I'm only trying to help! You're my sister!"

Her voice was loud. Too loud.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. Kahlil appeared, his face a mask of dark thunder. He marched down the steps, his eyes sweeping over Bianca's disheveled state and landing on Cassandra's weeping face.

He crossed the room in three strides. He stepped directly in front of Cassandra's wheelchair, shielding her with his body.

"Bianca, enough," Kahlil barked. "Cassandra is worried about you. Don't take your anger out on her."

The words hit Bianca like a physical strike. Her lungs seized. She stared at Kahlil's broad back, protecting the woman who was actively destroying her life. The coldness spread from her stomach to her fingertips.

She pushed away from the table. "Worried?" Bianca let out a broken, hysterical laugh. "She's worried about me? With her little camera and her poisoned words? She's the reason you think I'm a cheater!"

Kahlil's brow furrowed heavily. "What are you talking about?"

Bianca pointed a shaking finger at Cassandra. "Ask her! Ask her who took that photo and who sent it to you! Or are you too blind to see the viper in your own home?"

Cassandra let out a loud sob. She grabbed the fabric of Kahlil's trousers. "Kahlil, she's scaring me..."

Something snapped in Kahlil. He reached out and shoved her shoulder, pushing her back with a harsh, unyielding force. The force of his push was harder than he intended. Bianca's legs were already weak. The shove sent her stumbling backward. Her hip slammed violently into the sharp corner of the heavy glass coffee table.

A sickening thud echoed in the room.

Bianca gasped. The pain that ripped through her abdomen was so intense her vision went completely black for a second. She clutched her stomach, folding in half. Her face drained of all color, turning a terrifying, ashen gray. But as she looked up at Kahlil, a twisted, desperate smile broke across her lips.

Madwoman. That's all he saw. That's all he would ever see.

The sharp corner of the glass table felt like a knife buried in Bianca's side. The pain radiated through her abdomen, making her ears ring. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, refusing to let her knees hit the floor again.

She lifted her head. Kahlil was staring at her, his hand still half-raised from where he had pushed her. A flicker of panic crossed his dark eyes as he saw her face turn the color of chalk.

But behind him, Cassandra peeked out. Her tears were still flowing, but her eyes held a glint of pure, malicious victory.

Bianca let out a laugh. It was a short, sharp sound that scraped against her throat.

"Madwoman..." Bianca whispered. She pushed herself fully upright. Her legs trembled, but she locked her knees. "You know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe I am crazy to think I could ever make you see the truth."

She took a slow, agonizing step forward. Kahlil tensed, but Bianca walked right past him. She stopped directly in front of Cassandra's wheelchair. She leaned down, her face inches from Cassandra's.

Cassandra shrank back, her hands gripping the armrests.

"You're good at this, aren't you?" Bianca's voice was a deadly, quiet hiss. "The tears. The trembling. But I know what you really are, Cassandra. A snake in the grass. And snakes... always get crushed eventually."

Cassandra's breath hitched. Genuine fear flashed in her eyes. She reached out and grabbed Kahlil's sleeve. "Kahlil... she threatened me... She said she'd crush me..."

Kahlil's jaw tightened. He reached out and grabbed Bianca's upper arm, pulling her away from the wheelchair. "Apologize to her. Now."

Bianca ripped her arm out of his grip. The sudden movement sent a fresh wave of nausea through her, but the adrenaline kept her standing. She looked at Kahlil, her eyes completely dead.

"Apologize?" Bianca sneered. "For what? For telling the truth? Or for not being the perfect little victim you want me to be?"

She took a step back, putting distance between herself and the two of them.

"You want an apology? Fine." Bianca's lips curled into a cruel smile. "I'm sorry, Cassandra. I'm sorry you have to resort to such pathetic schemes because you're too weak to fight for anything honestly. I'm sorry you're so insecure that you need to cling to a man who doesn't even want you as a woman."

Cassandra gasped. The color drained from her face, leaving her looking sickly. Bianca's words had hit the exact, bleeding center of her insecurities. She began to shake violently.

Kahlil's face turned thunderous. He stepped toward Bianca. "How dare you! You... you vicious..."

"Vicious? Me?" Bianca cut him off, her voice ringing loud and clear in the silent room. "Look at her, Kahlil. Look at how she's acting. That's not grief or fear. That's performance. And you are her audience."

Bianca pointed a finger straight at Cassandra's chest. "Look at her clothes! That sheer top, the low neckline. Is that what a grieving, scared 'sister' wears at midnight? Or is it bait?"

Cassandra was wearing a thin, cream-colored knit top. The fabric clung to her, the neckline dipping low enough to show the curve of her breasts. At Bianca's words, Cassandra let out a panicked squeak and quickly crossed her arms over her chest.

Kahlil's eyes automatically dropped to Cassandra's clothes. He blinked. A sudden, uncomfortable realization hit him. He quickly looked away, but the seed of doubt had been planted deep in his mind.

Bianca didn't miss his reaction. Her voice dropped to a cold, business-like tone.

"I'm setting a boundary, Kahlil. Cassandra stays out of my way. And you stay out of my business. If you want a divorce so badly, then give me one. Walk away with nothing, or cooperate with the heir plan. Your choice."

She turned her back on them. She walked toward the stairs. Every step sent a shockwave of pain through her stomach, but she kept her spine perfectly straight. She didn't look back once.

The living room fell into a suffocating silence. Cassandra sat frozen in her wheelchair, her chest heaving, terrified that her mask had slipped too far.

Kahlil stood rooted to the spot. Bianca's words echoed in his skull. Walk away with nothing... cooperate with the heir plan.

He looked at the empty staircase. Then, he slowly turned his head to look at Cassandra. He noticed the sheer fabric. He noticed the lack of real tears on her cheeks. His stomach tightened with a sudden, ugly feeling.

He reached up and yanked his tie loose. "Go back to your room. Now." His voice was flat, devoid of the protective warmth he had shown minutes ago.

Cassandra's eyes widened in horror. "Kahlil... you believe her? You think I'm..."

Kahlil didn't look at her. He stared at the floor. "Go to your room, Cassandra. And stay there until I say otherwise."