Aubree stared through the open car door, her eyes locked on the figure standing at the top of the stone steps.

It was a woman wearing a flowing white silk dress. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, blowing gently in the ocean breeze. It was Allyson Pennington. Godfrey's former fiancée.

Godfrey saw her too. The dark, violent storm that had been brewing in his eyes all morning completely vanished. His face relaxed.

He stepped out of the car and walked quickly up the steps.

Allyson smiled brightly. She opened her arms wide as he approached.

Godfrey wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, and pressed a natural, lingering kiss to her cheek.

Aubree forced her stiff legs to move. She climbed out of the car, her high heels sinking slightly into the gravel. Her ankle rolled, sending a sharp pain up her calf, but she caught her balance.

Neither Godfrey nor Allyson looked back at her. She followed them up the steps like an unwanted servant carrying luggage.

They walked into the massive, double-height living room. Genevieve, Godfrey's mother, was sitting on a tufted velvet sofa, holding a teacup.

When Genevieve saw Allyson, she stood up immediately. A massive smile broke across her face.

"My dear girl," Genevieve said, reaching out to grab both of Allyson's hands. "It is so wonderful to see you."

Aubree stopped at the edge of the Persian rug. She stood perfectly still, keeping her hands clasped tightly in front of her stomach.

Genevieve shifted her gaze. Her smile dropped instantly when she saw Aubree. She looked Aubree up and down, her eyes lingering on the dark tweed dress.

"That color makes you look like an old widow," Genevieve said, her voice dripping with disdain.

Aubree lowered her chin. She raised her hands and signed, Good afternoon, Mother.

Genevieve rolled her eyes and turned her head away. "Stop waving your hands at me. I do not understand those monkey gestures."

Aubree's hands froze in the air. A hot flush of deep humiliation burned her cheeks. She slowly lowered her arms back to her sides.

Allyson linked her arm through Genevieve's. "The art exhibition in Paris was exhausting, but the gallery sold out," Allyson said, her voice smooth and sweet, completely ignoring the tension.

Genevieve laughed, patting Allyson's arm.

Godfrey handed his suit jacket to a waiting butler. He stood near the fireplace, watching Allyson with a soft, attentive expression Aubree had never received.

Aubree felt completely invisible. She took a small step backward, planning to slip away into the hallway and hide in a guest room.

"Aubree," Allyson called out suddenly.

Aubree stopped.

Allyson walked over to her, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. She stopped right in front of Aubree and tilted her head, her eyes locking onto Aubree's neck.

"Oh my," Allyson said, raising her voice so it carried across the entire room. "Are you having an allergic reaction? Your neck is covered in awful red marks."

Godfrey's head snapped toward them. His face darkened instantly. He stared at the bruises he had violently left on her skin the night before, his jaw clenching. He thought she had intentionally done a poor job covering them up to mark her territory.

Genevieve let out a harsh scoff. "The daughter of a bankrupt fraud always has cheap, sensitive skin."

Aubree bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall.

Allyson turned around and looked at Godfrey, batting her eyelashes innocently.

"Anyway," Allyson smiled, "I have some wonderful news. I am moving back to New York permanently."

The massive living room fell completely silent. Everyone's attention was locked on Allyson.

Allyson reached up and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I will be joining the Valentine Group starting Monday."

She looked directly at Godfrey, her smile widening. "I am going to be your new Executive Assistant. I will be handling the Asia-Pacific merger."

Aubree's head jerked up. Her chest tightened so violently she physically gasped, all the air rushing out of her lungs. She stared at her husband, waiting for him to deny it.

Godfrey said nothing. He stood by the fireplace, his silence confirming the appointment.

Genevieve clapped her hands together. "Brilliant! An Ivy League business graduate is exactly what Godfrey needs. Finally, someone useful."

Genevieve shot a nasty glare at Aubree. "Unlike some people who could not even finish a basic college degree and just drain our resources."

Aubree dug her fingernails into her palms. The only reason she dropped out of college was because her father went bankrupt and could no longer pay the tuition.

Allyson sighed softly, looking at Aubree with fake pity. "Oh, do not be too hard on her, Genevieve. Being a quiet housewife is a perfectly fine life for some women."

A loud, sharp thud echoed from the top of the grand staircase.

Everyone looked up. Augusta, the matriarch of the Valentine family, stood at the landing. She gripped a heavy silver cane in her right hand.

The air in the room instantly grew cold. Genevieve immediately fixed her posture and stopped smiling.

Augusta slowly walked down the stairs, leaning heavily on the cane. She reached the bottom floor and stopped in front of the sofa. Her sharp, calculating eyes scanned the room.

"Genevieve," Augusta said, her voice raspy but commanding. "You speak like a bitter fishmonger. Have some class."

Genevieve's face turned bright red, but she kept her mouth firmly shut.

Augusta turned her head toward Allyson. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

"The Valentine Group is not a playground for socialites," Augusta warned, tapping her cane against the marble floor. "The assistant chair is not a throne for you to play house in."

The perfect smile on Allyson's face cracked. She lowered her eyes, her fingers twitching nervously against her silk dress.

Augusta walked past them. She stopped right in front of Aubree, who was still standing near the edge of the rug.

The old woman reached out her wrinkled hand and gently patted Aubree's cold, trembling fingers.

"As long as I am breathing," Augusta announced loudly, making sure every person in the room heard her, "Aubree is the only granddaughter-in-law this family recognizes."

A hot tear finally escaped Aubree's eye, rolling down her cheek. She raised her hands and signed, Thank you, Grandmother.

Godfrey crossed his arms over his chest. He glared at the floor, his muscles tense with extreme irritation at his grandmother's blind protection of a woman he despised.

The head butler stepped into the room, bowing slightly. "Dinner is served in the main dining room."

The group moved out of the living room and walked down the long hallway toward the dining area.

Augusta took her seat at the head of the massive, long crystal table. She pointed her cane at the chair directly to her right. Aubree sat down.

Godfrey walked to the left side of the table and pulled out a heavy wooden chair.

Before he could sit, Allyson rushed forward. She slid smoothly into the chair right next to his.

She reached across the table and picked up Godfrey's linen napkin, gently placing it on his lap for him.

Aubree sat across from them. She stared at Allyson's hand resting near Godfrey's leg. The brief warmth Augusta had given her instantly vanished, replaced by a freezing, hollow ache in her chest.

Waiters in crisp black tailcoats moved silently around the long dining table. They carried heavy silver trays, serving the first course.

A waiter stopped next to Aubree. He carefully placed a deep bone-china bowl in front of her. It was filled to the brim with boiling hot lobster bisque. Thick steam rose from the orange liquid, carrying the rich scent of butter and cream.

The dining room was dead quiet, save for the faint clinking of silver spoons against porcelain.

Allyson picked up her crystal wine glass. She held it up, looking across the table at Aubree with a sickly sweet smile. "To new beginnings," she said.

Aubree placed her silver spoon down on the table. Courtesy demanded she return the gesture. She reached her right hand out toward her water goblet.

Suddenly, Allyson stood up. She leaned her upper body across the table, pretending to reach for the silver salt shaker near the centerpiece. But instead of grabbing the silver, Allyson faked a sudden, clumsy stumble. She let out a soft gasp, her arm flailing outward to catch her balance. As she moved, her elbow swung hard and fast, slamming directly into the heavy china bowl sitting precariously close to the table's edge.

The heavy china tipped over instantly.

The entire bowl of boiling, thick bisque poured off the edge of the table. The scalding liquid crashed directly onto Aubree's lap.

The heavy tweed fabric of her dress absorbed the boiling soup immediately, trapping the extreme heat directly against the sensitive skin of her thighs.

Aubree shot up from her chair. The heavy wooden chair tipped backward and crashed onto the hardwood floor with a deafening bang.

She opened her mouth wide, her facial muscles contorting in absolute agony. But her paralyzed vocal cords failed her. No sound came out. She could only gasp violently, her chest heaving as the skin on her legs began to blister and burn.

At that exact second, Allyson let out a piercing, blood-curdling scream.

Allyson grabbed her own right hand, clutching it to her chest. A few tiny drops of the soup had splashed onto the back of her knuckles.

Godfrey dropped his napkin. He shoved his chair back so hard it scraped against the floor. He rushed around the table and grabbed Allyson by the shoulders.

"Let me see," he demanded, his voice thick with panic. He gently pulled her hand away from her chest, staring at the small red spots on her skin.

Genevieve jumped up from her seat. "Call a doctor! Get the car!" she screamed at the butler.

Aubree fell to her knees on the floor. Her hands shook violently as she tried to pull the boiling, sticky fabric away from her skin. The pain was blinding, a white-hot fire eating through her flesh. Cold sweat poured down her forehead.

She lifted her head, her vision completely blurred by tears of pure agony. She looked at Godfrey.

Godfrey did not look at her. He did not even glance in her direction.

He bent down, scooped Allyson up into his arms, and turned toward the door. "Tell the driver to pull up to the front!" he roared at the staff.

He ran out of the dining room, carrying Allyson like a fragile piece of glass.

Genevieve ran after them, turning her head back just long enough to sneer at Aubree. "You clumsy, stupid girl!"

The heavy dining room doors swung shut.

The massive room was suddenly empty, except for Augusta sitting frozen at the head of the table, and Aubree kneeling in a puddle of soup.

Fiona, the head housekeeper, rushed into the room carrying a stack of wet, ice-cold towels. She dropped to her knees beside Aubree and began pressing the towels against the ruined dress.

Aubree stared at the closed wooden doors. She listened to the distant roar of the Maybach's engine starting up and speeding down the driveway.

The burning pain in her legs slowly started to turn into a dull, throbbing numbness. Inside her chest, the last remaining piece of her heart cracked completely in half.

She reached out and pushed Fiona's hands away. She grabbed the edge of the table and pulled herself up. Her legs shook violently, but her eyes were completely dry and hollow.