Erna pushed through the side doors at the end of the carpeted hallway and stepped out onto the semi-open terrace.

The late autumn wind of New York hit her face, carrying a mist of freezing rain. The physical shock of the cold helped cool the burning anger in her head.

Rapid footsteps echoed behind her.

"Erna! Wait!"

Sterling pushed the heavy glass door open, panting as he jogged onto the terrace.

Erna stopped. She turned around and stared at the man who used to be her closest friend at Columbia University.

Sterling reached into the inner pocket of his tailored suit and pulled out a neatly folded check. He stepped forward and tried to press it into her hand.

"Take this," Sterling whispered, glancing nervously back at the door. "It's enough for a decent apartment in Brooklyn. Just drop the police report, Erna. Please."

Erna looked down at the piece of paper. A heavy wave of disgust rolled through her stomach.

She took a step back, refusing to touch it. "You only play the good guy when no one is watching, Sterling."

Sterling's face flushed red, then went pale. "You know how it is! I can't go against the Cherry family in public. I'd be ruined in Manhattan."

"Keep your money," Erna said, her voice dripping with contempt. "I don't need your cowardly pity."

Before Sterling could respond, the terrace door creaked open again.

Brynlee stepped out into the freezing rain. She was wearing a thin silk evening gown, her bare shoulders shivering violently in the wind.

Her eyes were red-rimmed. She hurried over to Erna and reached out to grab the sleeve of Erna's trench coat.

Erna yanked her arm back violently, as if Brynlee's touch was toxic. "Back off."

Brynlee's face crumpled into a mask of pure devastation. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

"Please, Erna," Brynlee sobbed, her voice cracking perfectly. "Don't bring the NYPD into this. The scandal will tank Apollo's company stock. You can't do this to him."

Erna let out a dry, humorless laugh. "You don't give a damn about Apollo's stock. You're just terrified the cops will find out what you really did, and your perfect socialite image will burn to the ground."

A flash of genuine panic darted through Brynlee's eyes, but it was gone in a millisecond, buried under a fresh wave of tears.

Brynlee took a sudden step forward. Her high heel scraped loudly against the wet, slippery tiles of the terrace.

Using the momentum, Brynlee threw her upper body backward in a dramatic, exaggerated arc. She crashed hard into a large ceramic planter resting on the edge of the terrace.

Crash.

The thick ceramic shattered. Wet dirt and sharp shards exploded across the floor. Brynlee let out a blood-curdling scream and collapsed into the muddy puddle.

Erna stood perfectly still, watching the pathetic performance. She didn't even have the energy to roll her eyes.

Heavy, frantic footsteps thundered from the hallway. Apollo burst onto the terrace, his eyes wild.

He instantly saw Brynlee sitting in the mud, blood trickling down her pale arm from a scrape caused by the broken ceramic.

Apollo's face contorted in rage. He sprinted over and dropped to his knees, pulling Brynlee carefully into his chest.

"It wasn't her fault," Brynlee choked out, burying her face in his shirt. "I just... I lost my balance."

The classic manipulation worked perfectly. Apollo's head snapped up. His eyes locked onto Erna, burning with a murderous hatred.

"You're not just a liar," Apollo roared, his voice vibrating with fury. "You're a violent psychopath!"

Sterling stood frozen to the side, his head ducked down, too terrified of Apollo's wrath to speak a single word in Erna's defense.

Erna looked at the three of them. Her three-year marriage was a grotesque joke.

She kept her spine straight. She didn't take a single step back. She met Apollo's furious glare and let a cold, mocking smile spread across her lips.

Apollo handed the sobbing Brynlee over to Sterling. "Get her inside and find a medic," he ordered, his voice tight with rage.

Sterling nodded frantically, supporting Brynlee's weight as they disappeared back through the glass doors.

The terrace was empty except for Erna and Apollo.

The freezing rain beat down on the broad shoulders of Apollo's custom suit. He took a slow, menacing step toward Erna.

His towering height and the dark, violent shadow over his face made him look like a predator closing in for the kill.

Erna didn't retreat. She stood her ground near the edge of the terrace's decorative wading pool, staring blankly at the man who had once promised to protect her with his life.

Apollo stopped inches from her face. "If you leak a single word of that police report to the press," he hissed through his teeth, "I will make sure you don't survive in New York."

Erna let out a short, sharp laugh. The sound was entirely devoid of fear.

"I am sick to my stomach of your pathetic money and this disgusting circle of people," Erna said, her voice slicing through the rain. "Do whatever you want."

The absolute disdain in her eyes pierced straight through Apollo's massive ego.

In his damaged mind, Erna was a parasite who needed him to survive. How dare she look at him like he was the dirt beneath her shoes?

Blind rage hijacked his brain. Apollo's hand shot out. His large fingers clamped violently around the collar of her trench coat.

He twisted the fabric, pulling it tight against her throat.

Erna's airway was instantly crushed. She gasped, her hands flying up to claw at his wrist, desperately trying to pry his iron grip away.

A stark red line began to form on the pale skin of her neck.

Apollo stared down at her struggling face. Suddenly, without warning, a fragmented image exploded behind his eyes.

It was the same face. But she was smiling, her eyes full of soft light, her arms wrapping lovingly around his neck.

A blinding, agonizing pain spiked through Apollo's temples. It felt like a steel spike being driven into his skull.

He let out a low groan of agony. But the muscle spasm in his arm caused his grip on her collar to tighten even further.

Black spots danced in Erna's vision. Her lungs burned for air. Driven by pure survival instinct, she dug her fingernails deeply into the sensitive skin of his wrist, drawing blood, while simultaneously lifting her boot and stomping down as hard as she could on Apollo's expensive leather shoe.

Apollo cursed in pain, the dual shock of the sharp scratches and the crushing weight on his foot breaking his focus. His reflex was instant. He threw his arm out, shoving her violently away.

The massive force threw Erna entirely off balance.

Her feet slipped on the wet tiles. She tipped backward, her body flipping over the low stone edge of the decorative pool.

Splash.

Erna slammed into the freezing water. The icy shock paralyzed her lungs. Water rushed into her nose and throat.

As she fell, the side of her forehead cracked sickeningly against the hard mosaic tiles lining the pool's edge.

A blinding flash of white pain erupted in her skull. Her vision blurred. A dark ribbon of red blood immediately began to bloom in the clear water around her head.

Apollo stood at the edge of the pool. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against his throbbing temple, his breathing ragged.

He looked down at her thrashing in the water, the blood staining the surface. His twisted logic told him this was just another one of her extreme, manipulative acts to gain his pity.

He stared down at her bleeding in the freezing water.

"Disgusting," Apollo spat, his voice devoid of any human emotion.

The word pierced the surface of the water and hit Erna's ears. It was the final spark that ignited the absolute madness and rebellion buried deep inside her bones.

The biting cold of the pool water shocked Erna's nervous system, dragging her back from the edge of unconsciousness.

Ignoring the agonizing throb in her forehead and the water burning her trachea, she grabbed the stone edge of the pool and dragged her heavy, soaked body out.

Her trench coat clung to her skin like a wet shroud. Drops of rain mixed with the warm blood trailing down the side of her face.

Erna gasped for air. She looked up. Her eyes locked onto Apollo. It was the gaze of a cornered, bleeding wolf.

Apollo stared at the gruesome gash on her forehead. The fingers pressing against his temple twitched. A sudden, inexplicable wave of panic clawed at his chest.

But his arrogant pride crushed it instantly. He forced a cold smirk onto his face. "Your acting is getting more realistic every day."

Erna didn't speak. She walked on unsteady legs across the slippery tiles, heading straight for a heavy outdoor glass table.

Sitting in the center of the table was a massive, solid crystal ashtray. It gleamed coldly under the dim terrace lights.

Erna reached out with her freezing, purple-tinged fingers and grabbed the heavy crystal.

She spun around. Without a single warning, she hurled the solid block of crystal directly at Apollo's head with every ounce of strength she had left.

They were too close. Apollo didn't have time to dodge. He instinctively threw his arm up to protect his face.

The heavy edge of the crystal smashed brutally into the junction of Apollo's shoulder and neck.

Thud.

The sickening sound of impact echoed in the rain. The custom fabric of his suit tore open instantly, and dark blood began to seep through.

The sheer force sent Apollo stumbling backward. Pain exploded in his shoulder.

"You bitch!" Apollo roared. He lunged forward like a rabid animal, raising his fist to strike her down.

Before his fist could fall, a massive hand shot out from the shadows.

The hand, adorned with a Patek Philippe watch, clamped around Apollo's wrist. It looked effortless, but it carried the unstoppable, crushing force of a hydraulic press.

Apollo's forward momentum was violently halted. The bones in his wrist ground together, sending a shooting pain up his arm that forced his body to twist awkwardly to the side.

A man over six foot three, wearing a pitch-black tailored overcoat, stepped into the light.

His face was a mask of absolute, chilling indifference, but his dark eyes were swirling with a murderous, violent rage.

It was Cary Warren. The proxy of the powerful Warren family in Washington D.C., and Erna's legal guardian.

Cary discarded Apollo's wrist like a piece of rotting garbage. He didn't even waste a second looking at the bleeding heir.

He walked straight to Erna. The violent storm in his eyes instantly melted into a deep, suppressed agony as he looked at her shivering, bleeding form.

Cary stripped off his heavy cashmere overcoat. With movements that were both incredibly gentle and completely dominant, he draped the thick fabric over her head and shoulders like a protective canopy, shielding her from the freezing rain without letting the cashmere soak against her drenched clothes, before pulling her firmly into the warmth of his chest.

His massive frame completely blocked Apollo's view of her, creating an impenetrable fortress.

Apollo clutched his bleeding shoulder, his face twisted in fury. "Who the hell are you? Do you know what happens when you touch me in Manhattan?"

Cary slowly turned his head. He looked at Apollo the way a man looks at an insect right before stepping on it.

He didn't answer. Cary simply raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Four men in black tactical suits stepped out from the shadows, forming a solid wall between Cary and Apollo.

Ignoring the blood and mud, Cary bent down and scooped Erna up into his arms.

The moment Erna's head hit his broad chest, the last string holding her consciousness together snapped. She passed out cold.

Cary carried her away, his long strides eating up the distance.

Apollo was left standing alone in the freezing rain. He stared at the puddle of Erna's blood on the tiles. Another fragmented memory of Erna, covered in blood and crying, flashed through his mind, making his heart violently contract.