The flashbulbs went off like a supernova. A wall of blinding white light.

Gisele stepped out of the car. The silence that followed was louder than the applause had been for Daneen.

She walked. She didn't hurry. Every step was calculated. The red dress flowed around her like liquid fire. Her chin was high, her short hair catching the wind.

Evander saw her first. His jaw went slack. He took a step forward, instinct taking over, before he remembered who he was holding.

Daneen's grip on his arm tightened until her nails dug through his suit jacket. What is she doing here? she hissed. Get rid of her.

Gisele stopped three feet in front of them. The cameras were eating it up. The wife vs. the mistress. The white vs. the red.

Hello, sister, Gisele said. Her voice was calm, amplified by the sudden hush of the crowd.

Gisele, go home, Evander said, his voice straining to be low. You are making a scene.

A scene? Gisele smiled. I'm just here to admire the work.

She turned to the cameras, posing. She raised her left arm to smooth her hair. The movement revealed a diamond bracelet on her wrist. It was intricate, a lattice of gold and gems that looked like a sunburst.

A reporter gasped. That's the Eclipse! The prototype Sunny was rumored to be wearing!

Daneen's eyes went wide. That's mine! she shrieked, forgetting her poise. She stole it!

The cameras swung to Daneen.

Gisele didn't flinch. Stole it? That's a serious accusation. If it's yours, Daneen, surely you know how to open it?

Daneen faltered. Of course I do. It's... a clasp.

Show us, Gisele challenged. She extended her wrist.

Daneen reached out. Her hands were shaking. She fumbled with the bracelet, pulling at it, twisting it. It didn't budge.

It's stuck! Daneen cried. She glued it shut!

Gisele sighed. She pulled her arm back. She pressed a tiny, hidden gemstone on the underside of the setting. Click. The bracelet sprang open, detaching from her wrist. She held it up. Then, she twisted the center stone. The bracelet folded in on itself, transforming into a brooch.

The crowd gasped.

Design is about function, Daneen, Gisele said softly. Not just sparkle.

Daneen's face crumbled. She swayed, her hand going to her forehead. Evander! I... I feel faint. My blood sugar...

She collapsed into Evander's arms. It was a perfect faint. Rehearsed.

Evander caught her, glaring at Gisele with pure venom. Are you happy now? You hurt her.

Gisele looked at the man she had loved. I didn't touch her, Evander. The truth just weighs a lot.

Security! Evander yelled.

Four large men in black suits pushed through the press. They surrounded Gisele.

Evander pointed a shaking finger at her. She stole that jewelry. She is trespassing. Remove her. And search her bag.

Gisele clutched her small clutch. The hard drive wasn't in there-the virus was already planted-but her dignity was.

Evander, stop, Gisele said, her voice wavering for the first time. Don't do this.

You gave me no choice, he said coldly. He turned his back on her to attend to Daneen, who was now peeking through her eyelashes.

The head of security grabbed Gisele's arm. Come with us, Miss.

No. Gisele tried to pull away. I have an invitation.

The guard yanked her. The movement was rough. She stumbled in her heels.

Thief! someone in the crowd shouted.

Jealous ex! shouted another.

The narrative was shifting. Daneen was the victim. Gisele was the crazy aggressor.

Gisele reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a notarized copy of the original copyright filing for the Sunny brand, dated three years ago.

Read this! she shouted to the reporters. Look at the date!

Daneen saw the paper. She miraculously recovered from her faint. She lunged.

No! She's crazy! That's a forgery!

Daneen grabbed the paper. She ripped it from Gisele's hand. In the struggle, Daneen's long, manicured nails raked across Gisele's arm, drawing blood.

Ah! Gisele cried out.

Daneen tore the paper in half, then into quarters, throwing the confetti onto the red carpet. She stomped on it with her white heels.

See? Trash! Daneen screamed.

Evander stood there. He watched Daneen assault Gisele. He watched the blood welling on Gisele's arm. He did nothing. He just shielded Daneen from the cameras.

Gisele looked at him. The man who promised to protect her.

You are a coward, she whispered.

The guard grabbed her other arm. He twisted it behind her back. Let's go.

Gisele struggled. The guard was too strong. He dragged her backward.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. A man stood up from the front row of the VIP section. He was tall, wearing a black trench coat that seemed to absorb the light. He hadn't moved until now.

Farrell Pennington. The Investor.

He didn't shout. He just walked onto the carpet. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea. He had an aura of violence that made the security guards hesitate.

He stopped ten feet away. He looked at Gisele, then at the guard holding her.

Let go, he said. His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried.

The guard frowned. Who are you?

Farrell didn't answer. He just took one step forward. The guard released Gisele instantly, as if he had been burned.

Gisele fell to her knees, gasping.

The guard, embarrassed by his own fear, reached down to grab Gisele again. Get up!

He grabbed the back of her dress. He pulled.

The silk was delicate. It wasn't made for violence. Riiip.

The sound was sickening. The back of the dress split from the neck down to the small of her back. The fabric fell away.

The crowd went silent. Even the photographers stopped clicking for a second.

Gisele's back was exposed to the cool night air and the harsh lights.

It was a map of pain.

Silver lines. Old welts. The pale, jagged ridges of healed lacerations that crisscrossed her spine.

Evander stared. His mouth opened. He had never seen her back. She always turned the lights off. She always wore t-shirts to bed. He thought she was shy.

He stepped closer, his eyes horrified. Gisele... what is that?

Daneen made a noise-a squeak of terror. She knew those marks. The riding crop. The years of "discipline" in the basement while Evander was away at boarding school.

The cameras started clicking again. Furiously. This was the shot of the decade. The mutilated beauty.

Gisele felt the air on her skin. Shame washed over her, hot and suffocating. She tried to cover herself with her arms, curling into a ball.

That's... that's self-harm! Daneen shouted, her voice shrill. She does it to herself! She's sick!

Evander looked at Daneen. For the first time, doubt flickered in his eyes. But Daneen clutched his hand, her nails digging into his palm. Evander, my heart... I can't breathe... If you let them believe this, the stress will kill me. You know the doctor said I'm fragile.

Evander looked at the board members watching. He looked at the stock price ticker on the screen. He looked at Daneen's pale, pleading face.

He took off his jacket. He walked toward Gisele. Cover up, he muttered. You're embarrassing yourself.

He wasn't offering comfort. He was offering concealment.

Gisele slapped his hand away. Don't touch me!

Evander recoiled.

Farrell moved. He was there in an instant. He took off his heavy trench coat. He didn't throw it at her. He knelt down. He wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling the lapels tight to cover every inch of her skin. The coat was warm. It smelled of tobacco and rain.

He helped her stand. His arm went around her waist, supporting her weight. He turned her away from the cameras, shielding her body with his own.

Who did this? Farrell asked. His voice was a low rumble against her ear.

Gisele looked at Daneen. Daneen was trembling, hiding behind Evander.

Farrell followed her gaze. He looked at Evander. He looked at Daneen. His eyes were black voids.

I see, Farrell said.

Evander stepped forward, trying to regain control. Mr. Pennington. This is a private family matter. Please step aside.

Farrell laughed. It was a terrifying sound. You lost the right to call her family when you let your dogs rip her clothes off.