Damon stopped exactly three steps away from her.

His chest heaved. His blue eyes dragged over every inch of her face, burning with a mixture of rage, relief, and agonizing pain. He stared at her as if trying to rip her soul out through her skin.

Corrie forced her hand to let go of the electrical breaker. She locked her knees to stop them from shaking and stood up perfectly straight. She met his stare with walls of ice in her eyes.

She was thinner than he remembered. The soft, innocent curve of her cheeks was gone, replaced by sharp angles and cold indifference. The change in her physically hurt him.

Damon broke the suffocating silence. His voice was a raw, gravelly whisper.

"A widow?" Damon asked. "I didn't realize I died five years ago."

Corrie let out a short, cruel laugh. "As far as I'm concerned, you drowned at the bottom of the Hudson River five years ago."

Damon's pupils contracted sharply. The mention of the river was a knife twisting in his gut. But the anger quickly swallowed his guilt. He took a massive step forward.

His tall, broad body cast a dark shadow over her, trapping her against the edge of the workbench. The physical pressure of his presence was overwhelming.

"Why did you hide my children?" Damon growled, his face inches from hers.

Corrie leaned back, her spine pressing uncomfortably into the wood. "They are not your children. They are Mael's. They have nothing to do with the Holloway family."

The lie was the spark that ignited the powder keg.

Damon's hand shot out. His long fingers clamped around her jaw, just like he had in the hospital room five years ago.

"Do you think I'm blind?" Damon roared, his warm breath hitting her face. "That boy's face is my face! It is undeniable proof!"

Corrie gasped in pain. She raised her hands and slapped at his wrist, fighting to break his grip. As she thrashed, the heavy plastic goggles resting on her forehead slipped down. The sharp plastic edge caught her cheek, slicing a thin line into her skin.

A drop of bright red blood welled up on her pale cheek.

Damon saw the blood. His eyes widened in shock. He instantly snatched his hand back, as if her skin burned him. But he didn't step back. He kept his body planted, blocking her only path of escape.

Corrie pressed her hand to her bleeding cheek. Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. The claustrophobia of being trapped by him triggered a visceral memory of the sinking taxi. She couldn't get enough air.

"Get out of my studio," Corrie commanded, her voice trembling. "Or I will call the police and have you arrested for trespassing."

Damon looked at her like she had just told a joke. He reached into his suit jacket, pulled out his sleek black smartphone, and tossed it onto the workbench next to her.

"Call them," Damon sneered. "Let's see which cop in New York has the balls to interfere with Holloway family business."

Corrie's entire body shook with fury. She stared at the phone. She knew he was right. His money and power made him untouchable.

Damon's eyes scanned the back room of the studio. He saw the empty chairs. He saw her packed duffel bag. His gaze fell on the contract still sitting on the workbench.

"That contract," Corrie said, her voice trembling with rage. "Did you send it? To trap me?"

Damon picked up the paper. His brow furrowed as he scanned it. "I didn't send this. The charity committee handles procurement." His jaw tightened as understanding dawned. "Kara. She must have pushed this through the committee. She's been trying to claw her way into every corner of my life since you disappeared."

His eyes turned pitch black. He looked back at her.

"Where are they?" Damon demanded, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Tell me where Mael took them, or I swear to God, Mael Corbin will not live to see the sun rise tomorrow."

The threat against Mael snapped the last thread of Corrie's control.

She reached behind her on the workbench. Her fingers wrapped around the thick wooden handle of a sharp metal carving knife.

She whipped her arm around and pointed the blade directly at the center of Damon's chest.

The four bodyguards in the room instantly drew their firearms, aiming right at Corrie's head.

Damon didn't even blink. He raised his right hand, a silent command. The guards immediately lowered their weapons.

Damon looked down at the knife, then up into Corrie's terrified, furious eyes.

He took a step forward. The sharp tip of the blade pierced the expensive fabric of his suit jacket, resting right over his heart.

"Do it," Damon whispered, his eyes wild and obsessive. "Push it in. Kill me again, just like you did five years ago."

Corrie's hand shook violently. The metal blade rattled against his chest. She looked at the madman standing in front of her. A crushing wave of powerlessness washed over her.

Suddenly, a bright, electronic ringtone echoed from the pocket of Corrie's apron.

It was a custom 8-bit video game sound. Leo's ringtone.

Damon's eyes snapped to her pocket. In a flash of movement too fast to track, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. He twisted her arm sharply, forcing her to drop the knife.

He spun her around, pinning her back against his chest. He locked both her arms behind her back with one hand. With his free hand, he reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her phone.

The screen flashed: Leo Baby.

Damon stared at the screen. A slow, cruel smirk spread across his lips. His thumb swiped the green button. He answered the call.

The phone connected.

For three seconds, the line was completely dead. Leo didn't immediately yell "Mom." The boy was too smart. He was listening to the background noise, sensing the trap.

Damon held Corrie tight against his chest. He lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Leo," Damon said, his deep, magnetic voice vibrating through his chest and into Corrie's back.

Corrie thrashed wildly. She tried to scream, to tell Leo to run.

Damon shifted his weight, pressing her forward until her stomach was pinned hard against the edge of the workbench. He moved his large hand from her wrists and clamped it firmly over her mouth, silencing her screams.

Through the phone speaker, the rapid clicking of a mechanical keyboard echoed.

"Mr. Holloway," Leo's high, childish voice came through, completely devoid of emotion. "Intercepting another person's phone call is a direct violation of the Federal Communications Commission regulations."

Damon's eyebrows shot up. A flash of genuine, shocked admiration crossed his face.

"You know my last name," Damon said, a dark smile playing on his lips. "You've done your homework over the last five years."

"It doesn't take much time to research a scumbag who abandons his wife," Leo shot back, his voice dripping with venom.

Being called a scumbag by his own flesh and blood wiped the smile off Damon's face. His jaw locked. His muscles tensed, and his hand pressing Corrie against the table accidentally pushed harder.

The wooden edge dug into Corrie's ribs. She let out a muffled groan of pain against his palm.

The keyboard clicking on the phone instantly stopped.

"Let her go," Leo demanded, his voice suddenly frantic and vicious. "Take your hands off my mother right now, or I will crash the Holloway Group's stock price by twenty percent in the next ten minutes."

Damon rolled his eyes, assuming it was a child's empty threat. "You can try, kid. But right now, you are going to tell me exactly where you are."

Leo let out a cold, sharp laugh.

Suddenly, a loud burst of electronic static blasted through the phone speaker.

At the exact same moment, the tablet in Brad's hand began to blare a loud, red siren alarm. Brad rushed into the room, his face pale.

"Boss!" Brad yelled. "The main servers at HQ are under a massive DDoS attack. The trading algorithms are freezing up!"

Damon stared at the phone in his hand, utterly stunned. A four-and-a-half-year-old boy was taking down a billion-dollar corporate server.

In that split second of Damon's distraction, Corrie turned her head. She opened her mouth and sank her teeth deep into the fleshy part of Damon's palm.

She bit down as hard as she could, tasting hot blood.

Damon hissed in pain and jerked his hand back.

Corrie spun around and snatched the phone from his other hand.

"Leo, cut the connection!" Corrie screamed into the mic. "Don't let him trace your IP!"

The line went dead instantly.

Damon looked down at his right hand. Deep teeth marks punctured his skin, blood welling up and dripping onto the floor. He slowly raised his eyes to Corrie. They were pitch black and incredibly dangerous.

"A genius hacker?" Damon took a slow step toward her. "It seems he inherited my high IQ."

Corrie backed into the corner of the room, her face completely drained of color. She stubbornly held her ground. "He is an Alvarez. He inherited my genes!"

Damon lost the last shred of his patience. He lunged forward, grabbing her by the shoulders and yanking her hard against his chest.

Before she could react, his fingers tangled in her hair. He pulled hard, plucking a single strand from her scalp.

He shoved the hair into Brad's hand. "Take this to the private lab. Run a rush DNA comparison with my profile. Keep the technicians working all night if you have to. I want the results on my desk by tomorrow morning."

Corrie watched Brad run out the door. The absolute certainty of the DNA test shattered her last hope. Her lies were useless now.

Damon looked down at her pale, defeated face. He decided to crush her final illusion.

"You think you can hide them?" Damon whispered, his face inches from hers. "Look at the boy's eyes. Look at the girl's eyes. That exact shade of icy blue... it is identical to mine. I have never seen it outside the Holloway family. They are my children."

The words were the final blow.

Corrie's mental defenses violently collapsed. The terror she had suppressed for five long years erupted inside her.

The air in the room suddenly felt thick, like water. She couldn't breathe. The phantom sensation of the freezing Hudson River flooded her lungs.

Corrie grabbed the front of her canvas apron, her knuckles white. She opened her mouth, gasping like a fish out of water, but no sound came out. Cold sweat poured down her face.

Damon frowned. He thought she was acting, trying to manipulate him.

"Stop faking it, Corrie," he said coldly.

Before the words fully left his mouth, Corrie's chest convulsed.

She bent forward and coughed violently. A mouthful of dark red blood sprayed from her lips, splattering directly across the crisp white fabric of Damon's expensive dress shirt.