The interior of the Maybach smelled like leather and old money. The partition was up, sealing them in a soundproof capsule of tension.

Heda slid onto the seat, clutching her cheap canvas tote bag against her chest. Inside, buried under a change of clothes, was a burner phone.

Gustavus was already on a video call. He didn't look up when she entered. He just held up a hand, silencing her before she could even breathe. His eyes flicked over her pink suit, a smirk touching his lips. He enjoyed seeing her look ridiculous. It confirmed his superiority.

He closed the laptop with a snap. The silence that followed was heavier than the air outside.

"Caspian is back," Gustavus said.

He didn't look at her. He looked out the window at the blurring cityscape.

Heda's heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers tightened on the canvas strap until her knuckles turned white. The name was a physical blow.

Caspian.

The memory flashed-the roar of a bulldozer, the dust choking the air, a young man in a designer suit standing in front of the orphanage, laughing as the walls came down.

Gustavus turned, his gaze narrowing. He was a predator sensing a change in heart rate. "You know him?"

Heda forced her lungs to expand. She blinked, widening her eyes in feigned confusion.

"Who? That movie star brother of yours? I seen him in the magazines at the grocery store."

Gustavus studied her for three long seconds. He was looking for a crack.

"Don't get any ideas," he sneered. "He may play the celebrity, but he has a Wharton degree he loves to wave around. Thinks it makes him legitimate. He eats little things like you for breakfast. And he doesn't leave crumbs."

"I only listen to you, Mr. Gustavus," Heda said, dropping her gaze to her lap.

"Gustavus," he corrected sharply. "Drop the 'Mister'. We are playing the happy couple today."

The car slowed, turning through the massive iron gates of the English estate in the Hamptons. The house loomed against the gray sky, a stone monstrosity that looked more like a fortress than a home.

Gustavus reached out. His hand clamped around her wrist, yanking her across the leather seat.

Heda gasped as she collided with his chest. It was hard, unyielding.

His fingers went to her collar, roughly undoing the top button. He pulled the fabric aside, exposing the purple mark on her collarbone.

"Why are you hiding it?" His voice was cold, clinical. "That is my receipt. I need the board to see it."

Heda felt bile rise in her throat. She was property. An asset with a depreciation schedule.

"Yes, Gustavus."

The car stopped. The door opened.

Gustavus's face transformed. The scowl vanished, replaced by a soft, possessive smile. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Ready, darling?" he asked, loud enough for the staff to hear.

They walked into the foyer. The air smelled of expensive lilies and rotting ambition.

Celsa Knowles stood at the bottom of the grand staircase. She wore silk that cost more than Heda's childhood home. Her smile was a razor blade.

"Gustavus," she purred. Her eyes slid to Heda, looking at her like she was something the cat dragged in. "And this must be the... investment. Two million, was it?"

Heda shrank back, making herself small.

Gustavus's grip on her waist tightened to the point of pain.

"Watch your tone, Celsa. This is Mrs. English."

Celsa laughed, a tinkling, hollow sound. "Of course. Oh, by the way, Caspian is in the study. He brought a gift for his new... sister-in-law."

Heda's right eye twitched. A gift.

"Go change," Gustavus muttered into her ear, his breath hot. "Put on something that doesn't make you look like a strawberry milkshake. Don't embarrass me."

He released her and strode toward the study, leaving her standing alone in the cavernous hall.

Heda watched him go. She was trapped in a castle with dragons, and her only weapon was a burner phone and a lie.

The guest room was cold. It was decorated in muted beiges and creams, impersonal and stiff.

The moment the maid closed the door, Heda locked it.

She ripped the burner phone from her bag. A red alert flashed on the screen.

WARNING: Counter-attack on short position. Source IP masked.

Roxy's text followed: They are squeezing us, Heda. I can't hold the line from here. I need the server access.

Heda cursed. She needed an untraceable connection. The Wi-Fi here was monitored; Gustavus would see every keystroke.

She stripped off the pink suit, kicking it into the corner. She pulled on her faded jeans and a grey hoodie. She opened the french doors to the balcony.

She knew the layout. She had studied the blueprints of this house for three years before she ever met Gustavus.

She swung her legs over the railing, finding the sturdy trellis hidden by the ivy. She climbed down, silent as a shadow.

She avoided the main drive, slipping through the blind spot of the perimeter cameras near the rose garden. She headed for the old, dilapidated boathouse at the edge of the property, a place no one had visited in years.

Inside, hidden beneath a loose floorboard, was a Pelican case. She opened it, revealing a satellite modem and a ruggedized laptop. This was her real office.

Her fingers were a blur. She routed her connection through three different countries. She saw the buy orders-clumsy, aggressive. Someone was trying to artificially inflate the stock.

Not today.

She executed a complex algorithm, a "ladder attack" that made it look like the market was losing faith. The stock dipped. Then it dived.

She locked in the profit.

Heda exhaled, leaning back against the damp wood. She checked the trace. The counter-attack IP... it ended in .eng.grp. It was coming from inside the house.

She packed up, her heart rate finally slowing. She was hungry. A sandwich. She needed a sandwich.

She slipped out of the estate through a break in the fence she'd created months ago and walked into the small, exclusive village of East Hampton.

She walked out of a small deli, blinking in the afternoon sun, a sandwich wrapper crinkling in her hand.

A black Bentley rolled up to the curb, silent and menacing. It cut off her path.

The back window rolled down.

Gustavus sat in the shadows. His face was a mask of fury.

Heda froze.

Gustavus got out. He didn't care about the tourists watching. He marched up to her, backing her against the quaint, shingled wall of the deli.

"Who gave you permission to leave the estate?" he hissed.

"I... I have an online class," Heda stammered, hugging her tote bag which now held her laptop. "It's required. If I miss the submission deadline, I get expelled."

Gustavus snatched the bag from her. He ripped the zipper open.

He pulled out a textbook. Principles of Macroeconomics. It was dog-eared and used.

He laughed, tossing it back at her. "Macroeconomics? You? What's the point? You think you're going to work on Wall Street?"

"I just want to get a good job," Heda whispered, looking at her shoes. "To pay you back."

The anger in Gustavus's eyes faltered. It was replaced by a smug satisfaction. She was trying to pay him back. She was pathetic.

"You are my wife. My asset. You go where I say you go."

He grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the car. "Get in. We have a charity gala tonight."

"But I don't have a dress..."

"I'll have one sent. Now."

He shoved her into the backseat.

As the car pulled away, Heda looked out the rear window.

Standing across the street, exiting a boutique with a shopping bag in hand, was a man in a casual suit.

Caspian.

He was smiling. A knowing, shark-like smile. He lifted his hand in a small, mocking wave.

Heda felt the blood drain from her face. He had seen her. He had seen her being manhandled into Gustavus's car.

Gustavus saw her shiver. "Save the tears," he said coldly. "You have a performance tonight."

The next morning, Gustavus was gone before she woke up. The driver dropped her at the campus gate.

Heda met Roxy in the back of the lecture hall.

"Jesus, Heda," Roxy whispered, staring at Heda's neck. "Is that concealer?"

Heda pulled her hoodie up. "Don't ask. It's a disaster."

"Well, distract yourself," Roxy said, leaning in. "We have a guest lecturer today. Rumor is he's big finance. And hot."

The heavy oak doors opened.

Caspian English walked in.

He wasn't wearing a suit today. He wore a cashmere sweater and slacks, looking approachable and deadly.

Heda dropped her pen. It clattered loudly on the floor.

Caspian scanned the room. His eyes locked on hers. He held the gaze for a fraction of a second too long, his smile widening.

He turned to the chalkboard. Caspian English. Business Ethics.

"Ethics," Heda muttered. "That's rich."

"Today," Caspian said, his voice smooth like velvet, "we are going to discuss the ethics of land development. Specifically, the displacement of non-profit organizations for commercial gain."

Heda stopped breathing.

"Let's say," Caspian continued, walking up the aisle, "there is an orphanage on prime real estate. The developer wants to build a mall. What is the ethical move?"

He stopped right in front of her row.

"You. The girl hiding in the hoodie. Miss... Roman, is it?"

Every head turned.

Heda stood up. Her legs felt like jelly.

"I would..." She cleared her throat. "I would prioritize the children. Human life is worth more than profit."

Caspian chuckled. It was a dark sound.

"How naive, Miss Roman. That is why you will always be... a victim."

The bell rang.

Heda grabbed her bag and bolted. She needed air. She needed to get away from him.

She turned the corner near the lockers and slammed into a solid wall of chest.

Caspian.

He boxed her in, his hands resting on the lockers on either side of her head.

"Long time no see, 'Wildcat'," he whispered. "Or should I call you 'Sister-in-Law'?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Professor," Heda said, her voice shaking.

Caspian reached out, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "I remember a girl from that trailer park... one who was remarkably good at picking locks. Does Gustavus know about your... special talents?"

Heda slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me."

Caspian's eyes went cold. "Drop the act. I know you married him for the money. Work with me, Heda. I can give you more than he can."

"I am loyal to my husband," she spat.

"Loyalty?" Caspian laughed. "In the English family, loyalty is the cheapest commodity."

Heda's phone rang. It was the special ringtone for Gustavus.

Caspian glanced at the screen. He stepped back, straightening his sweater.

"Answer it. Tell him I'm looking forward to the family dinner tonight."

Heda answered.

"Wait at the gate," Gustavus ordered. "I want to check on your 'studies'."

Heda hung up. She watched Caspian walk away, whistling. She was trapped between a monster who wanted to own her and a monster who wanted to destroy her.