Harlow POV

The air in the foyer was thick, suffocating, charged with the copper tang of my own blood and the cloying, expensive perfume Brittaney bathed in.

Kaden Barnes towered over me like a vengeful god.

He did not just radiate power; he consumed the space around him with a lethal aura that made grown men question their own survival.

"Why?" he demanded.

One word.

Loaded with accusation.

"She..." I tried to speak, but my throat was lined with sandpaper. "She pushed me. The dog... it bit me."

"Liar!" Brittaney sobbed into Kaden's chest, clutching the growling beast as if it were a victim.

"She kicked Princess! She's jealous, Kaden! Look at her! She's crazy!"

Kaden looked down at me.

He really looked at me.

His gaze snagged on the crimson stain spreading across the back of my dress, the way the silk clung explicitly to the raw flesh.

For a second, just a heartbeat, his brows knit together.

Something flickered in his eyes.

Confusion?

Concern?

Whatever it was, Brittaney extinguished it with a fresh, piercing wail.

"She tried to hurt my baby!"

Kaden's face hardened into a mask of stone.

"Why would you attack a helpless animal, Harlow?"

His voice was cold. Detached.

I stared at him, disbelief numbing the searing pain in my back.

"Look at my leg," I whispered.

Blood was trickling down my ankle where the dog's teeth had punctured the skin, pooling on the marble floor.

Kaden glanced at it, then back at Brittaney's tear-streaked face.

It didn't matter.

Facts didn't matter.

Only she mattered.

"Apologize," Kaden said.

I blinked, sure I had misheard.

"What?"

"Apologize to Brittaney," he commanded. "And to the dog."

The humiliation hit me harder than the floor had.

I was the daughter of a soldier.

I was the woman who had run his empire's legitimate front for five years.

And he wanted me to bow to a mistress and a pet.

I tried to push myself up, my arms shaking violently under the strain.

"No."

The word hung in the air, fragile but absolute.

Kaden's eyes narrowed.

He wasn't used to no.

Especially not from me.

"I am the Don," he said softly, a threat wrapped in silk.

"And I am giving you an order."

I finally managed to stand, swaying on my feet.

I looked him dead in the eye.

"Am I the mistress of this house, Kaden? Or is she?"

My voice gained strength, fueled by adrenaline. "Because if I am your wife, even a fake one, you do not order me to bow to a whore."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Brittaney gasped.

Kaden's jaw clenched, a muscle feathering in his cheek.

He took a step toward me, looming over my broken form.

"You are whatever I say you are," he hissed.

"And right now, you are an embarrassment."

He snapped his fingers.

Two guards materialized from the shadows.

"Take her to the courtyard," Kaden ordered, not breaking eye contact with me.

"She stays on her knees until she learns how to speak with respect."

"Kaden, please," I whispered, the fight draining out of me. "My back..."

He turned away.

He turned his back on me to comfort the woman who was laughing behind her hand.

The guards grabbed my arms.

Pain exploded across my shoulders as they dragged me backward.

"You are a man without honor, Kaden Barnes!" I screamed, the words tearing raw from my throat.

He didn't flinch.

He didn't look back.

He just walked Brittaney into the drawing room and closed the door.

I was dragged out into the cold night air.

The gravel dug into my knees.

The wind whipped against my open wounds.

I didn't apologize.

I knelt there as the moon rose and fell.

I knelt there as the fever began to burn through my veins.

I told myself one thing, over and over again, like a prayer.

Just a little longer.

Just survive this.

And when I do... I will burn this kingdom to the ground.

Harlow POV

Dawn broke over the estate in a bruised palette of charcoal and violent purple.

I was still kneeling.

My body had transcended pain, settling into a strange, floating numbness that felt dangerously like dissociation.

When the servants finally came to collect me, my legs refused to cooperate.

They had to half-carry me, their eyes fixed on the floorboards, terrified to witness the aftermath of the Don's cruelty.

They deposited me in my room like a broken doll, but I didn't crawl into the sanctuary of my bed.

I couldn't.

I had to leave.

With trembling hands, I washed the gravel embedded in my knees, the water in the basin turning murky.

I changed into a high-necked dress, the fabric stiff enough to hide the fresh bandages wrapped around my torso.

I packed a single bag.

I was limping toward the main staircase, hope fluttering in my throat, when Kaden blocked my path.

He looked immaculate-freshly showered, smelling of sandalwood and arrogance.

Brittaney was draped over the banister behind him, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Going somewhere?" Kaden asked, his voice devoid of warmth.

"I'm leaving," I said, my voice raspy from disuse.

"We have a schedule, Harlow."

He checked his watch, stepping over my declaration as if it were nothing more than debris.

"Brittaney needs a new wardrobe for the season. You have an eye for... decent things."

"You're taking her shopping."

I stared at him, disbelief warring with exhaustion.

"You want me to take your mistress shopping?"

"I want you to do your job," he said smoothly. "Make her look presentable. She lacks your... polish."

"I refuse."

I turned to walk away, my movements jerky and uncoordinated.

"Get in the car, Harlow," Kaden said.

It wasn't a request; it was a command.

Two bodyguards stepped in front of me, walls of muscle in black suits.

I was trapped.

Again.

The limousine ride was a silent torture chamber.

Brittaney sat across from me, kicking my shins 'accidentally' with her heels, her smile sharp enough to cut glass.

At the boutique, she was a monster wrapped in silk.

She tried on everything.

She bought nothing.

She made me fetch sizes, holding dresses up against her body and asking if they made her look 'too skinny,' fishing for compliments I refused to give.

"Carry these," she commanded, shoving a mountain of shopping bags into my arms.

My back was on fire.

The stitches were pulling, tearing at the tender flesh beneath.

"I can't," I whispered, the bags slipping from my numb fingers.

"Pick them up!" she hissed, her facade dropping. "Or I tell Kaden you stole something."

I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached.

I bent down.

I picked up the bags.

I walked behind her like a pack mule, sweat drenching my dress, shivering from a fever that was climbing higher by the minute.

When we finally returned to the mansion, I collapsed onto the foyer bench, my vision swimming.

Brittaney dumped the clothes onto the floor in a heap.

"Oh, Kaden!" she called out, her voice pitching up into a whine.

He appeared from his office, his presence instantly sucking the air from the room.

"Harlow got the clothes dirty," she pouted, pointing a manicured finger. "Look at the dust on the bags."

Kaden looked at the bags. Then at me.

"Wash them," he said.

"What?" I whispered, the room tilting.

"Hand wash them. Silk ruins in the machine."

"Kaden, I'm sick," I pleaded, holding up my trembling hands. "Please."

For a second, the ice in his eyes cracked.

He saw the unnatural flush on my cheeks. The way I was shaking like a leaf.

"Oh, don't be mean to her, Kaden," Brittaney said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I'll do it. I don't mind doing hard work. Unlike some people."

She reached for a blouse.

"Leave it," Kaden snapped at her, making her flinch.

Then he turned his glare back on me.

"You are useless, Harlow."

"Wash the clothes. Or get out of my sight."

I took the clothes.

I walked to the laundry room, every step a battle against gravity.

I filled the basin with cold water.

My hands were raw.

My back was bleeding again; I could feel the warm wetness sliding down my skin.

I scrubbed the silk until the water swirled pink, the blood seeping through my bandages mingling with the suds.

I heard them in the hallway.

Kaden's voice, low and tender-a tone he used to use for me.

"You're too good for this place, Britt," he whispered.

I scrubbed harder, trying to drown out the sound of my heart breaking.

The room began to spin.

The floor tilted violently.

Black spots danced in my vision, consuming the light.

I fell.

The darkness was a relief.

I woke to the rhythmic beep of machines.

White walls. The stinging smell of antiseptic.

A hospital.

A nurse was adjusting an IV in my arm, her hands shaking slightly.

"Mr. Barnes brought you in," she whispered, looking terrified. "He was shouting at everyone to save you."

Hope, that treacherous little bird, fluttered in my chest.

He cared.

He had brought me here.

The door banged open, shattering the moment.

Kaden stormed in.

He didn't look relieved.

He looked murderous.

He crossed the room in two predatory strides.

Before I could speak, before I could ask what happened, I felt the cold, hard steel of a gun barrel press against my forehead.

"You bitch," he roared, his eyes wild.

"You put needles in her dress?"

Harlow POV

The muzzle of the gun pressed against my forehead, the steel biting cold against my feverish skin.

Kaden's finger hovered over the trigger, trembling with restrained violence.

His eyes were wild, the pupils dilated, swimming with a rage that bordered on absolute madness.

"I didn't put needles in anything," I whispered, my voice cracking as I stared up at him, pleading for sanity.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" he roared, the sound ricocheting off the sterile white walls like a physical blow.

"She put the dress on! She was bleeding!"

"I didn't do it, Kaden. I washed the clothes myself. I would have felt them."

But he didn't want logic.

He wanted a villain.

"Get her up," he barked to the guards stationed at the door.

"Mr. Barnes, please-she's critically ill," the nurse stammered, stepping forward with trembling hands. "She has sepsis from infected wounds on her back. Moving her could kill-"

"Get out!" Kaden bellowed, turning his fury on her.

The nurse didn't wait to be told twice; she fled the room.

The guards moved in like vultures.

They didn't bother to be gentle. With a savage jerk, they ripped the IV from my arm.

Blood sprayed in a hot arc across the pristine white sheets.

I screamed as they hauled me out of the bed, my body screaming in protest.

My legs gave way instantly, useless beneath me, but they didn't let me fall.

They dragged me through the hospital corridors, my bare feet scuffing the linoleum, out the back exit, and threw me into the rear of a waiting black SUV.

Kaden took the wheel.

He drove like a demon possessed, a heavy, suffocating silence filling the car.

Back at the estate, they didn't take me to the main house.

They took me to the cellar.

The air down there was thick with dampness and rot, hitting my lungs and forcing a jagged cough from my chest.

They chained my wrists to the wooden crossbeam-a fixture I knew was used for interrogating rival cartel members.

My feet barely brushed the dirty floor.

The strain on my shoulders was immediate agony, a fire spreading through my joints.

Kaden stood in the shadows, the flare of a lighter illuminating his hard face as he lit a cigarette.

"Confess," he said, smoke curling from his lips.

"I have nothing to confess."

He nodded once to a figure lurking in the corner.

The Enforcer.

A giant of a man with dead, shark-like eyes.

In his massive hands, he held a pair of pliers and a long, thin sewing needle.

"Harlow," the Enforcer said, his voice flat, devoid of humanity. "Just say you did it."

"No."

He stepped forward.

He took my hand in a grip of iron.

With agonizing slowness, he slid the needle under my fingernail.

The scream that tore from my throat didn't sound human.

It was a primal, jagged sound of pure, white-hot torture.

"Confess," Kaden commanded from the dark.

"I didn't... do it!" I sobbed, gasping for air, my vision blurring.

Another needle.

Another scream.

My world went black.

I floated in a sea of pain, untethered from time.

I don't know how long it lasted.

Hours?

Days?

I woke up in my own bed.

Soft sheets. The scent of lavender.

Lily, my private maid, was sitting by the bedside, weeping softly as she carefully bandaged my mangled fingers.

"Lily?" I croaked, my throat like sandpaper.

"Oh, Miss Harlow," she cried, jumping up. "You're awake."

She leaned in close, her voice a terrified whisper. "She's lying. I saw Brittaney putting the needles in the dress herself. I saw her do it!"

"Tell him," I rasped, desperate. "Tell Kaden."

She stood up, her face pale but set with determination.

"I will."

She went to the door.

Just then, a scream echoed from the courtyard below.

A man's scream.

Lily froze.

She cracked the door open, peered out, and then slammed it shut, her face draining of all color.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's the Enforcer," she whispered, trembling violently. "The Don is whipping him."

"Why?"

"Because he touched you," she said, looking at me with wide, fearful eyes.

Hope fluttered in my chest, fragile and weak.

"He knows I'm innocent?"

"No," Lily said, her expression shifting to pity.

"He's shouting that you are the Don's wife. That you are Family Property."

"He's saying no other man has the right to mark his possessions."

The hope died instantly.

He wasn't protecting me.

He was protecting his ego.

I was just a vase that someone else had dared to chip.

I lay there for a week.

Lily fed me broth.

My fingers throbbed with every heartbeat. My back ached from the old wounds.

But the silence was the worst part.

Kaden never came.

Not once.

On the seventh day, the door swung open.

Kaden walked in.

He was dressed in an impeccable tuxedo, looking like a prince from a dark fairytale.

"Get up," he said.

I looked down at my bandaged hands.

"We have a gala tonight. The Senator is expecting us."

"I can't hold a glass, Kaden."

"Wear gloves," he said, tossing a velvet box onto the bed with careless disregard.

"And stop sulking."

"Brittaney is willing to forgive you."

"Forgive me?" I laughed, a dry, cracked sound. "For what she did to herself?"

"Drop it, Harlow."

He walked to the mirror, adjusting his tie with practiced ease.

"We are a united front tonight."

"You will smile."

"You will stand by my side."

"And you will look like the Queen of this city."

"Or what?" I asked softly.

He met my eyes in the reflection, his gaze cold enough to freeze hell.

"Or I will let the Enforcer finish what he started."