Emma walked over to the display shelves. She ran her fingers over the expensive leather. She did the math in her head, estimating their secondhand market value.

She pulled her phone from her pocket. She downloaded The RealReal app.

She grabbed a pristine Chanel Gabrielle bag and carried it over to the window. She moved around until the natural light hit the leather perfectly.

She snapped several photos. She made sure to get clear shots of the hardware, the dust bag, and the serial number.

She opened the app and started typing. She used her past life's knowledge of luxury goods to write a highly persuasive product description.

She hit publish. She repeated the process. Within an hour, she had listed three of the original owner's most prized Hermes bags.

She was adjusting the angle for the fourth bag when footsteps approached. Alek stopped in the doorway of the closet. He was holding an empty coffee mug.

He looked down at the bags scattered on the floor. His jaw clenched tight.

"Are you so desperate for attention that you're showing off online?" he asked coldly.

Emma didn't even look up. She adjusted the focus on her camera.

"I'm selling them. We need cash for living expenses," she replied calmly.

Alek's grip on the coffee mug tightened. The original Emma would have starved to death before selling a single bag. This behavior completely shattered his understanding of her.

He scoffed. "A drop in the bucket," he mocked. He turned and walked toward his study. But his mind was racing. The suspicion was eating at him.

Emma ignored his insult. She kept listing the items. Her phone pinged loudly. The first bag had sold in minutes.

She stared at the thousands of dollars pending in her account. A genuine smile broke across her face for the first time since she woke up in this body.

She left the closet and went back to the master bedroom. She opened the original owner's MacBook. She needed to find freelance work.

There was no password. She opened the browser and searched for freelance copywriting platforms.

She started deleting old files to clear up storage space. She clicked on a hidden folder named "Memories."

Dozens of photos popped up on the screen. They showed the original Emma clinging to a blonde man on a yacht.

Emma recognized the man from the book's plot. It was Sterling Astor-Vance, a Wall Street trust fund kid and her ex-boyfriend.

A wave of disgust hit her stomach. These photos were a ticking time bomb for her marriage. She hit 'Select All' without a second thought.

She pressed delete. She emptied the trash bin. She completely wiped the dangerous history from the hard drive.

She opened a new tab to check the local news. An article about Alek's bankruptcy was trending. Right below it, in the comment section, an arrogant remark caught her eye-posted by Sterling Astor-Vance. Disgusted, she navigated back to her inbox, only to find a new email sitting at the top of her unread list. The sender was Sterling.

The subject line read: Heard he went broke. Meet me at the usual spot tonight. I'll save you.

Emma sneered at the screen. She clicked on the email, blocked the sender, and reported it as spam.

With the threat neutralized, she opened a Word document. She started typing up a marketing resume based on her own past experiences.

Down the hall in the study, Alek sat in front of his encrypted laptop. He was tracking his offshore funds. Dale Cooke's face appeared on a video call.

Dale looked serious. "The deep dive on Emma has started. No history of psychiatric issues so far."

Alek tapped his fingers against the mahogany desk. "Pull her recent communication logs and web browsing history."

Dale nodded. "Understood. Also, the old vultures in the Holden family are trying to lowball your core patents."

A vicious light flashed in Alek's eyes. "Feed them fake data. Keep throwing the bait until they choke on it."

He ended the call. He looked through the crack of the study door. He watched Emma typing furiously on her laptop. His eyes darkened with intense scrutiny.

Alek pulled his gaze away from the door. He shut his encrypted laptop. He walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out an older, slightly worn suit.

He put it on but left the tie off. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. He looked in the mirror and ran his hands through his hair, messing it up to look stressed and defeated.

He walked out of the study. As he passed the master bedroom, he stomped his feet slightly to make sure she heard him.

"I'm going to see the bankruptcy lawyers," he called out.

Emma looked up from her screen. She saw his messy hair and tired posture. A pang of sympathy hit her chest.

"Be careful out there," she said softly.

Alek's jaw tightened. He looked away quickly, muttered a response, and walked out the front door.

He took the elevator down. He didn't walk toward the subway. Instead, he turned down a blind alleyway. A black, bulletproof SUV was idling in the shadows. He climbed into the back seat.

Dale handed him a tablet. The screen displayed Emma's live web browsing history.

"She's selling her bags on secondhand sites," Dale said, sounding confused. "And she's looking for freelance writing gigs."

Alek swiped down the screen. His finger stopped on the most recent activity. She had just added Sterling Astor-Vance's email to her block list.

Alek's eyes flickered. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. She was actually cutting ties.

"Sterling has been running his mouth at the clubs about your bankruptcy," Dale warned. "Want me to handle him?"

Alek raised a hand. "Let the clown perform a little longer. Focus all resources on the Somnium VR underground tests."

The heavy SUV pulled out of the alley and headed toward the Nevada transit hub.

Back in the apartment, Emma finished submitting her resume. She stretched her arms over her head. Her back popped.

Her throat felt dry. She went to the kitchen, but the milk was gone. She decided to go downstairs for a coffee.

She threw on a cheap white sweater and a pair of jeans. She tied her hair into a messy bun and grabbed her keys.

The elevator took her down to the lobby. She walked across the marble floor and pushed through the revolving glass doors.

A loud, obnoxious engine roar echoed off the buildings. Pedestrians turned to look.

A bright red Porsche 911 parked illegally right in front of the building. The door swung open. A man in a custom-tailored suit stepped out.

Emma squinted against the wind. She recognized the blonde hair and arrogant face. It was Sterling.

Sterling pulled off his sunglasses. He looked at Emma's plain sweater. Fake pity washed over his face.

He walked toward her with his arms wide open. "Oh, my poor Emma."

Emma's stomach turned. She took a quick step to the side. Sterling's arms grasped empty air.

He dropped his arms, looking awkward. He looked her up and down and clicked his tongue. "Alek actually lets you walk around looking like this?"

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes were cold. "What do you want?"

Sterling stepped closer. He lowered his voice. "I know Alek is finished. Divorce him. I'll rent you a place on the Upper East Side today."

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. His thumb rubbed against her skin. "We can go back to how things were."

Emma yanked her arm back with violent force. Her skin burned where he had touched her. Her wrist turned red.

She took a large step back to create distance. "Show some respect. I am a married woman."

Sterling's face hardened. His ego was bruised. He let out a nasty laugh. "Don't play the saint with me. Alek is worse than a beggar right now."

Emma's eyes turned to absolute ice. She straightened her spine and glared at Sterling.

She pointed her finger right at his nose. Her voice rang out sharp and clear over the street noise. "You are not only a snob, but you are an uneducated idiot."

Sterling's face turned purple. He stepped forward, lowering his voice into a threat. "Don't push me, Emma."

Emma didn't back down an inch. She laughed coldly. "Even bankrupt, Alek's tech patents are worth ten thousand times more than a parasite like you living off a family trust fund."

Sterling lost his temper. "He's a piece of trash! He can't give you anything!" he yelled.

Emma stepped right into his space. She stared him down. "Marriage vows are not toilet paper. Running away when your partner hits rock bottom is the act of a coward."

She raised her voice so everyone could hear. "I am not divorcing him. I am going to stay by his side and help him rebuild. I don't need a loser like you telling me what to do!"

Across the street, the black bulletproof SUV had just circled back. It idled by the curb. The dark tinted windows hid the passengers inside.

Alek sat in the back. He had rolled his window down just a fraction of an inch. Every single word Emma shouted carried through the cold air and hit his ears.

When she yelled that she would help him rebuild, Alek's heart skipped a hard beat. His fingers gripped the tablet so tightly his knuckles popped.

In the front seat, Dale glanced in the rearview mirror. He was shocked to see the usually ruthless Alek Holden looking genuinely moved.

On the sidewalk, Sterling was humiliated. He raised his hand, his face twisted in rage, ready to shove Emma.

Inside the SUV, Alek's eyes turned murderous. His hand slammed onto the door handle. He was ready to tear the man apart.

Before he could open the door, a loud voice boomed down the street. "Hey! Put your hands down!"

Mr. Gable, a neighbor from the building, marched over. He was holding a Starbucks cup in one hand and the leash of his Golden Retriever in the other. He stepped right between Emma and Sterling.

Mrs. Gable hurried up right behind him. She glared at Sterling. "Are you harassing women in broad daylight?" she yelled.

Sterling panicked. "It's just a fight between friends!" he stammered.

"He is not my friend," Emma stated loudly. "He is harassing me and trying to ruin my marriage."

Mrs. Gable's eyes widened in outrage. She pointed at Sterling. "You disgusting homewrecker!"

People on the street stopped walking. They pulled out their phones and started recording the scene.

Sterling saw the cameras. Panic seized his chest. A public scandal would cut off his trust fund. He threw his hands up to hide his face.

He shot Emma a venomous glare, muttered a curse, and practically dove into his Porsche.

The engine screamed as he slammed on the gas. The car sped away like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.

Mrs. Gable patted Emma's shoulder. "Good for you, honey. Don't let trash talk to you like that."

Emma smiled warmly. "Thank you both. I was just heading to get some coffee."

Mr. Gable nodded. "Alek is a lucky man to have you. You two will get through this."

Emma waved goodbye and walked into the corner coffee shop. She ordered the cheapest black coffee on the menu.

Across the street, Alek slowly released his grip on the door handle. He leaned back against the leather seat and exhaled a shaky breath.

He turned to Dale. His voice was deadly calm. "Cut off the latest funding round for the Astor-Vance family. Consider it a warning."

Dale nodded. The SUV merged silently into the traffic. Alek kept his eyes glued to the coffee shop window until Emma's figure disappeared from view.