Giovanni lunged.

His hand shot out, grabbing Edith's wrist in a grip so tight she felt the bones grind together. He yanked her forward, pulling her flush against his chest. His breath was hot on her face, his eyes burning with a fury that bordered on madness.

"I can find it in hours," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "I will burn every sketchbook, every design, and make sure you never draw another line again."

Edith didn't flinch. The fear was there, a cold knot in her stomach, but it was overshadowed by a profound, weary anger. She was tired of being afraid.

"Go ahead," she said, her voice flat. "But it won't change anything. You can't destroy an idea."

She wrenched her arm free from his grip, the sudden movement catching him off guard. She turned to her portfolio, unzipped the outer pocket, and pulled out a thick manila envelope.

She walked back to the coffee table, right past him, and slapped the envelope down on the glass surface, right next to the unfolded sketch.

Giovanni stared at the envelope, then at her. "What is this?"

Edith flipped the cover open. It wasn't a divorce petition. It was a market analysis report, detailing the projected failure of a recent Baldwin acquisition in the tech sector. A report she had commissioned through a shell company weeks ago.

The bold, black letters at the top of the first page stood out starkly against the white paper.

BALDWIN TECH - Q3 LOSS PROJECTION: $500 MILLION.

Giovanni stared at the words. For a second, total silence filled the room. Then, a harsh, barking laugh escaped his lips. He looked at her as if she had just told him a hilarious joke.

"A business report?" he scoffed, his eyes raking over her with contempt. "Is this your new hobby? Playing businesswoman? You know nothing of my world. You'll be out on the street with the clothes on your back."

Edith didn't blink. "I want nothing from you. I just want you to see that you are not infallible."

Her lack of reaction seemed to enrage him further. He was used to her tears, her pleading. This cold, detached woman was an insult to his power.

He reached down, grabbed the thick stack of papers, and tore them down the middle. He tore them again, and again, until the pages were nothing but confetti. He let them fall from his hands, fluttering down onto the marble floor like snow.

"I decide when you have an opinion," he declared, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged room. "Not you."

Edith watched the pieces of paper settle on the floor. She felt a strange sense of calm. The paper was meaningless. The intent was what mattered.

She looked up at him, her eyes hard. "It doesn't matter what you decide, Giovanni. The illusion is already over. Because there is nothing left to hold it together."

She paused, letting the silence stretch, building the tension until it was a living thing in the room.

"Especially since you are so blinded by the past you can't see the present."

Giovanni frowned, the anger on his face shifting to confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Edith took a step closer to him, forcing him to look her in the eye. "The 'costume' I was wearing last night? The life you've forced upon me? It's a cage of your own making. You're not punishing me, Giovanni. You're punishing yourself, haunted by a ghost."

The change in him was instantaneous and violent.

The color drained from his face. The sneer, the contempt, the anger-all of it vanished, replaced by a raw, unfiltered shock. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes widened, staring at her as if she had just shot him.

He hadn't expected her to name it. To call out his obsession with Dakota so plainly. He had wanted to hurt her, to control her, but she had just turned his own grief into a weapon against him.

Edith watched the realization hit him. She felt no satisfaction. Only a vast, empty wasteland where her heart used to be. She thought his shock was guilt, but she didn't care anymore. It just proved how broken they were.

"You're lying," Giovanni finally choked out, his voice cracking. "It's a trick. You're trying to get away."

"Look in a mirror," Edith said coldly. "You'll see."

Giovanni took a step back, his hand reaching out to grip the back of the sofa. His knuckles were white. She could see the gears turning in his head, the frantic calculations. The face of his beloved Dakota flashed in his mind, followed by the stern, unforgiving face of his father, Harold.

He couldn't divorce her. Not now. Not when their marriage was a strategic alliance between their families, a deal brokered long before Dakota's death. And he had just been exposed by her.

The shock morphed into something else. A desperate, cornered rage. A rage born of panic.

He moved like a striking snake. He grabbed Edith by the shoulders and slammed her back against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.

"You are not going anywhere," he hissed, his face inches from hers, his eyes bloodshot and wild. "This isn't over."

He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the wall. His hands were rough, bruising. Edith didn't fight him. She just closed her eyes, turning her face away. The physical pain was nothing compared to the deadness inside her.

Then, the shrill ringtone of Giovanni's phone shattered the silence.

He froze, his breathing ragged in her ear. He pulled the phone from his pocket and looked at the screen.

The caller ID read: Harold Baldwin.

Giovanni stared at the phone, the color completely gone from his face. The ultimate authority was calling. The man who demanded results.

He released Edith, stepping back as if she had burned him. He answered the phone, his voice a hoarse rasp.

"Father."

Giovanni turned his back on Edith, the phone pressed tight to his ear. He strode into his study and slammed the door shut.

The click of the latch was like a gunshot in the silent apartment.

Edith slid down the wall, her legs giving out. She sat on the cold marble floor, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She could hear the muffled sound of Giovanni's voice through the heavy wood, rising and falling in an agitated rhythm.

Inside the study, Giovanni yanked his tie loose, feeling like he was being strangled.

"Giovanni," Harold Baldwin's voice was cold, clipped, and utterly devoid of affection. "Any progress? The acquisition of OmniCorp is faltering. Our sources say a ghost player is driving up the price."

Giovanni squeezed his eyes shut. "Everything is under control. We're working on it."

"Do not lie to me," Harold snapped. "Your grandfather built this empire from nothing. I expanded it. You are letting it be nibbled to death by unknowns. The board is losing confidence. They see you distracted, unfocused. Do you understand what that means?"

Giovanni felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple. "I understand."

"Then why is your attention not on the market?" Harold's voice was lethal. "I don't care what issues you have with that girl. The Woods merger was your last chance to stabilize the East Asia sector after the Ayala partnership collapsed. You will make it work. The legacy of this family depends on it. Do not fail me."

The line went dead.

Giovanni stood in the silence of his study, the phone still pressed to his ear. A roaring sound filled his head. He had let his personal vendetta against Edith distract him, and now his professional world was crumbling. He had poisoned the well, and now he was dying of thirst.

He opened his eyes, staring at his reflection in the dark window. He looked like a madman.

He threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall and shattered into pieces.

He took a deep breath, forcing the panic down. He had to fix this. He had to find a way.

He straightened his tie, smoothed his hair, and walked back out into the living room.

Edith was still sitting on the floor. She looked up as he approached, her eyes wary, bracing for another attack.

But Giovanni's face was a mask. The rage was gone, replaced by an eerie, unsettling calm. He walked over to her and crouched down, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Edith," he said, his voice soft, almost gentle. "Let's talk."

He reached out, his fingers hovering near her cheek as if to stroke it.

Edith flinched violently, jerking her head away. "Don't touch me."

Giovanni's jaw tightened, a flicker of impatience crossing his features, but he forced it down. "Perhaps I was too harsh," he said, the words sounding foreign and stiff on his tongue. "I was angry. I acted out of line."

Edith stared at him, disbelief written all over her face. The man who had pinned her to the wall five minutes ago was now trying to apologize?

"Forget about the tension between us," Giovanni continued, his voice smooth, persuasive. "I will unsuspend your accounts. I can give you a black card, anything you want. You can buy whatever you need."

Edith let out a short, hollow laugh. "You think money can fix this? You think you can buy my forgiveness after what you've done?"

"I was angry," Giovanni repeated, his tone hardening slightly before he caught himself. "We can... try to coexist. We can present a united front. The merger depends on it. There has to be a way to make this work."

Edith felt a wave of nausea wash over her. His sudden concern for their marriage was sickening. It wasn't about her. It was about what she represented for his business.

"There's nothing to fix, Giovanni," she said, her voice flat. "I want a divorce. That is not negotiable."

Giovanni stared at her, his eyes narrowing. The soft approach wasn't working. She was immune to his money and his fake apologies. He needed a new strategy. He needed time.

He stood up, taking a step back. "Fine," he said, his voice cool. "Don't make any decisions tonight. Just... stay. We'll talk in the morning."

It was a retreat. Giovanni Baldwin never retreated. But he had no choice. He had to regroup.

He grabbed his coat from the chair. "I have an emergency at the office. Don't leave this apartment."

He walked out the door without looking back.

Edith sat on the floor for a long time after he left. The silence of the apartment pressed in on her. He was going to shore up his business deals. He was going to look for a way to control her. He wasn't going to let her go.

She pulled out her burner phone. Her hands were shaking, but her mind was clear. She needed help. She needed information.

She scrolled through her contacts until she found the number. She hesitated, her thumb hovering over the call button. If she did this, there was no going back.

She pressed the button.

It rang twice before a professional, calm voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Anya," Edith said, her voice quiet but firm. "It's Lan. I need to see you. I need to know everything about the OmniCorp deal."

The café was a private gallery on the Lower East Side, far from the glittering towers of Midtown. It smelled of oil paint and old money. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions, and more importantly, where Giovanni Baldwin's spies would never think to look.

Edith sat in a secluded alcove, her hands wrapped around a delicate porcelain cup. She hadn't touched the tea.

The discreet side door opened. Anya walked in, looking impeccable in a tailored suit, a stark contrast to Edith's own disheveled state.

She slid into the seat across from her, avoiding her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Edith," she said immediately, her voice thick with concern. "I should never have let you go back there."

Edith looked at her, her gaze steady. "I don't need your apology, Anya. I need to know why."

She leaned forward, dropping her voice. "Why would Giovanni do this to me? What is the real story behind the Woods-Baldwin merger, and what does it have to do with Dakota Ayala?"

Anya rubbed a hand over her face, the internal struggle visible in every line of her body. Giovanni was a dangerous enemy. The Baldwins were a dynasty. But the woman sitting across from her had been destroyed by his own hand.

"He didn't know," Anya blurted out, the words tumbling out of her. "About your father's deal with Harold. He thinks the merger was your family's idea, a hostile move after the Ayala partnership fell apart. He blames your father for Dakota's... accident."

Edith frowned, her stomach twisting. "What deal? What are you talking about?"

Anya took a deep breath, looking around the empty gallery before leaning in close. "Dakota Ayala's family company was Baldwin's key to the European market. But they were unstable. When Dakota died in that car crash, the partnership died with her. The Baldwins were hemorrhaging money. Your father, seeing an opportunity, approached Harold. He offered a merger—Woods International would stabilize their Asian markets in exchange for a controlling stake. But he had one condition."

The words hung in the air between them. Edith felt a coldness seep into her bones, a coldness that had nothing to do with the drafty gallery.

"The marriage," she whispered, the pieces clicking into place. "He demanded I marry Giovanni."

Anya nodded miserably. "Your father believed it was the only way to secure the deal and protect your future. A union of the two families. But Giovanni... he saw it as a betrayal. An insult to Dakota's memory. He thinks your family capitalized on his tragedy. He wanted to punish you. He wanted to make sure you could never give the family what they wanted. He didn't realize he was cutting his own throat until it was too late."

Edith sat back, the reality of it crashing over her. She wasn't a wife. She had never been a wife. She was a bargaining chip. A walking contract clause for the Baldwin legacy. And Giovanni, in his blind hatred, had smashed the very thing he was supposed to cultivate.

The cruelty wasn't just personal. It was systemic. She was a commodity, and she had been damaged goods the moment the deal was signed.

A harsh, broken laugh escaped her lips. It was a sound of pure despair. "So, his sudden concern, his offers of money and a united front... that's not regret. That's panic. He needs his merger back on track."

Anya looked down at the table, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry, Edith. I am so sorry."

Edith stood up. She didn't feel angry anymore. The anger had burned away, leaving only a cold, hard diamond of resolve in her chest.

"Thank you, Anya," she said, her voice completely devoid of emotion. "For telling me."

She walked out of the gallery into the brisk afternoon air. The city noise washed over her, but she felt detached from it all. She was living in a different world now. A world where the truth was a weapon, and she was the only one who knew it.

She took a cab back to the penthouse. The apartment was empty. Giovanni was still out, probably tearing the city apart looking for a way to salvage his deals.

Edith walked into the bedroom. Her small portfolio was still sitting on the bed. She hadn't unpacked it.

She zipped it closed. She pulled the engagement ring off her finger and placed it on the nightstand. It felt like removing a shackle.

She walked to the front door. Martha Kowalski was in the foyer, dusting a table that didn't need dusting. The housekeeper looked up, her eyes filled with a sadness that said she knew.

"Godspeed, Mrs. Baldwin," Martha whispered.

Edith paused at the door. She turned back, looking the older woman in the eye.

"It's Woods," Edith said firmly. "My name is Edith Woods."

She walked out of the penthouse, the heavy door closing behind her with a soft, final click. She walked past the doorman, out into the sunlight. The sun was warm on her face, but she felt nothing.

She was free. But she was also alone, broke, and broken. And she had a company to save.