Calista burst through the heavy brass doors of the women's powder room.

She rushed to the marble sink and gripped the edges with both hands. She was gasping for air as if she had been drowning.

She looked up at the massive mirror. Her face was chalk-white. Her eyes were bloodshot.

She reached out and violently pushed the handle of the faucet.

Freezing cold water blasted into the basin. She shoved her hands under the stream, letting the icy water numb her shaking fingers. She tried to wash away the burning humiliation.

The heavy brass door behind her groaned open.

The sharp, rhythmic click of stiletto heels echoed off the marble walls.

Calista looked up into the mirror. Kassandra was walking toward her.

The sweet, innocent mask was completely gone. Kassandra's face was twisted with pure malice.

Kassandra stopped next to her. She reached into the gold-plated dispenser and pulled out a paper towel. She patted her hands dry with slow, deliberate movements.

"Look at you," Kassandra sneered at the mirror. "You look like a stray dog begging for scraps."

Kassandra leaned in closer.

"Jett spent four hours with me last night picking out this diamond," Kassandra whispered. "He doesn't care if you live or die."

Calista turned off the water. She stood up straight and turned to face the woman who had stolen her parents and her husband.

"You can put on whatever show you want," Calista said, her voice dropping to a freezing whisper. "But on paper, I am still Mrs. Holder."

Kassandra's eye twitched. Then she laughed. A high, grating sound.

"That piece of paper is going to be garbage very soon," Kassandra mocked.

Calista felt a surge of reckless anger. She raised her hand and roughly pushed aside the thick hair resting against her neck.

Under the bright vanity lights, four dark purple bite marks and harsh bruises stood out starkly against her pale skin.

"He wasn't so gentle in my bed last night," Calista said.

Kassandra's eyes locked onto the bruises. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.

The smugness shattered. Pure, murderous jealousy exploded in Kassandra's eyes.

She let out a furious hiss and lunged forward. She raised her hand high, aiming a vicious slap right at Calista's face.

Calista saw it coming. She threw her arm up and caught Kassandra's wrist mid-air.

They locked together in front of the sinks. Kassandra struggled wildly, her breath coming in harsh pants.

Suddenly, Kassandra's eyes darted past Calista's shoulder. She looked toward the slightly open brass door.

Heavy footsteps and the sound of Susan Mckee's voice drifted down the hallway.

Kassandra stopped struggling. A terrifying, psychotic smile stretched across her face.

She violently yanked her wrist out of Calista's grip.

Without a second of hesitation, Kassandra swung her own hand back and slapped herself across the right cheek with terrifying force.

The sound was like a gunshot in the tiled room.

Her cheek instantly swelled. A drop of blood burst from the corner of her lip.

Calista froze in absolute shock.

Kassandra threw her body backward. She slammed onto the hard marble floor. The impact made a sickening thud.

Kassandra grabbed her own hair, ripping the perfect curls apart. She opened her mouth and let out a blood-curdling, terrified scream.

The brass door was kicked open with brutal force.

The heavy door slammed against the wall.

Jett Holder and Susan Mckee rushed into the powder room.

Susan saw Kassandra lying on the floor with blood on her mouth. She let out a shrieking wail.

Jett's eyes darted from Kassandra's bruised face straight to Calista. Calista was still standing by the sink, her hands raised in a defensive posture.

A terrifying, violent rage erupted in Jett's eyes. The air in the room turned to ice.

Susan dropped to her knees. She pulled Kassandra into her arms. "Who did this to you? Who hit you?" Susan cried.

Kassandra buried her face in her mother's chest. Her body shook violently. She raised a trembling finger and pointed right at Calista.

"She tried to kill me," Kassandra sobbed.

"No!" Calista yelled, shaking her head frantically. "She hit herself! She's crazy!"

Jett closed the distance between them in two massive strides.

He grabbed Calista's wrist. His large fingers clamped down on her delicate bones with crushing, merciless force.

Calista let out a sharp cry of pain. She felt like her wrist was going to snap in half.

"You are a sick, venomous bitch," Jett snarled, his face inches from hers.

Tears of pure physical pain spilled over Calista's eyelashes. She stared up at him, refusing to look away. "I didn't touch her. I swear to god, I didn't touch her."

Jett violently shoved her arm away. He looked at her hands like they were covered in filth.

He turned his back on her. He bent down and scooped Kassandra up into his arms. His movements were incredibly gentle.

He looked back over his shoulder. His eyes were dead.

"I will deal with you when we get home," Jett promised.

He carried Kassandra out the door. Susan shot Calista a look of pure hatred, hissed the word "Viper," and ran after them.

Calista slumped against the marble counter. The world spun around her.

She forced her shaking legs to move. She pushed through the brass doors and stumbled out into the hallway.

The corridor was empty, save for one person.

Bo Mckee was charging down the hall. He looked like a raging bull. He had just gotten the call from Susan.

He saw Calista. He didn't slow down.

Bo lunged forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, slamming her back against the wall.

"If you ruined her face and ruined this merger, I will skin you alive!" Bo roared, spit flying from his mouth.

With a brutal shove, he sent her stumbling backward. Calista lost her balance. Her back slammed into the marble wall.

The back of her skull cracked against the sharp edge of a decorative stone molding.

A sickening crunch echoed in the hall.

Calista's vision went completely black. Her knees buckled. She slid down the wall and collapsed onto the carpet.

Warm, thick blood immediately rushed down her neck, soaking into the green silk of her dress.

Bo looked down at the blood. He didn't care. He raised his heavy leather shoe, aiming a kick right at her ribs.

The door to the VIP suite at the end of the hall swung open.

A tall man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit stepped out.

He saw the raised foot. He moved with lethal speed.

The man grabbed Bo's ankle mid-air. With a sharp, calculated twist, he threw the heavy man off balance. Bo crashed hard onto the floor.

Finn Sandoval, one of the top surgeons in New York, stood over Bo. His eyes were sharp and dangerous.

"Stay away from her," Finn ordered.

Finn dropped to his knees next to Calista. He pressed two fingers to her neck, checked her pupils, and saw the blood pooling on the carpet.

Without a word, Finn slid his arms under her body, lifted her unconscious form against his chest, and sprinted toward the elevators.

The harsh, blinding fluorescent lights of the emergency room burned through Calista's eyelids.

The sharp smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol filled her nose.

Finn Sandoval had bypassed the waiting room entirely. He pushed her directly into a private trauma bay.

He snapped on a pair of sterile blue gloves. He grabbed a bottle of saline and began washing the thick, matted blood out of her hair.

The wound on the back of her head was deep. The edges of the skin were jagged.

"You're going to feel a pinch," Finn said. His voice was incredibly calm and steady.

He pushed the needle of local anesthetic into her scalp.

Calista gasped. The sharp, burning pain shot through her skull. Her body jerked upward. Her hand shot out blindly and grabbed Finn's forearm.

Finn stopped the injection. He turned his hand over and wrapped his warm, steady fingers around her freezing ones. He held her hand tightly until her breathing slowed down.

It took twenty minutes of meticulous work. Finn tied off the final stitch and taped a thick white gauze pad over the wound.

Before helping her up, Finn pulled her phone from her clutch. "I'm calling your emergency contact," he stated firmly, unlocking the screen with her guided touch. He quickly dialed the first name on her list, Zara, giving her the hospital details.

He gently gripped her shoulders and helped her sit up on the edge of the bed. He handed her a paper cup of warm water.

Calista's lips were completely white. She took a small sip.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice raspy.

Heavy, aggressive footsteps pounded against the linoleum floor outside the frosted glass door.

Finn opened the door to help her walk toward the CT scan room.

At the far end of the hallway, Jett Holder was walking fast. He had just settled Kassandra into a luxury VIP suite upstairs. He was holding a plastic ice pack in his hand.

Jett looked up.

His eyes locked onto the green dress. Then, his eyes locked onto the man holding her.

Calista was leaning heavily against Finn's chest. Finn's arm was wrapped securely around her waist. He was looking down at her, speaking softly.

A violent, blinding wave of possessive rage slammed into Jett's chest.

He threw the ice pack violently into a nearby trash can. He charged down the hallway.

Jett reached them in seconds. He reached out and grabbed Calista's upper arm, yanking her backward with brutal force.

Calista screamed. The sudden jerk ripped at the fresh stitches in her scalp. White-hot pain exploded in her head.

Finn's eyes turned lethal. He stepped forward and reached for Calista.

Jett slammed his palm flat against Finn's chest, shoving the doctor backward.

"Who the hell do you think you are, touching my wife?" Jett roared. His voice shook the windows of the ER.

Finn caught his balance. He didn't back down an inch. He stared right into the eyes of the billionaire.

"I'm Dr. Finn Sandoval," Finn said coldly. "And as a husband, you're doing a pathetic job. She has a severe head trauma, and you're screaming at her."

Jett's eyes snapped down.

For the first time, he saw the thick white bandage on the back of her head. He saw the massive, dark bloodstain covering the back of her green dress.

His pupils contracted. A sharp, painful squeeze gripped his heart.

But his massive ego and his blind faith in Kassandra instantly crushed the guilt.

Jett's jaw tightened. He let out a dark, cruel laugh.

"She got exactly what she deserved for what she did tonight," Jett sneered. "I don't need an outsider playing hero."

Jett pointed a finger right at Finn's face. "Stay away from my wife, or the next research grant your hospital applies for will mysteriously vanish. And so will your supply chain for imported surgical equipment."

Jett wrapped his arm around Calista's waist. His grip was like an iron vice. He ignored her gasp of pain and dragged her down the hall, shoving her into an empty private hospital room.