A week passed after their confrontation, but Estella and Alden barely saw each other.

Estella had spent most of it at the hospital, buried in surgeries, consultations, and back-to-back shifts. On the nights she was on call, she slept in the physicians' lounge rather than make the trip home. Alden, meanwhile, remained consumed by the merger, moving between late-night meetings, business dinners, and the Four Seasons. When Estella did return to the penthouse, it was usually only long enough to shower, change, and leave again.

A week later, when Estella finally came home at a reasonable hour, the penthouse greeted her with the same cold silence.

But tonight, she brought a guest.

Earlier that evening, after leaving the hospital, Estella had heard a faint cry near the edge of the staff parking garage. Beneath a parked car, she found a small, scrawny cat with mottled fur, shivering and filthy, one paw scraped raw. He was so thin that she could feel every rib when she finally coaxed him into her arms.

She had taken him straight to a nearby emergency veterinary clinic. The vet found no microchip and, aside from dehydration, fleas, and the injured paw, no serious medical problems. He was young, frightened, and apparently abandoned. Estella could have left him with a rescue organization. Instead, when the tiny cat curled against her hand in the exam room as if afraid she might disappear too, something inside her refused.

Maybe it was foolish, but she understood what it felt like to live in a place where no one truly wanted your presence. She couldn't bring herself to leave him behind.

She carefully opened the pet carrier. A small, scrawny cat with mottled fur poked its head out, blinking its wide green eyes at the opulent, unfamiliar space.

Estella lifted the cat into her arms, holding its frail body against her chest.

She had named him Apollo on the drive home--a grand name for such a battered little creature, but somehow it suited him.

"Welcome home, Apollo," she whispered.

For the first time in this house, she was holding a life that needed her, that depended on her. It was a balm to her frayed nerves.

She set up a soft blanket, food, and water. Watching the small creature tentatively begin to eat, a knot of tension she hadn't realized she was carrying finally began to loosen.

Alden hadn't returned since their morning confrontation. Communication between their lawyers had stalled, his side repeatedly citing his "demanding schedule."

Suddenly, the front door opened.

Alden walked in.

He clearly hadn't expected to find her in the living room. He certainly hadn't expected to find her holding a cat.

His gaze locked onto the animal. His brow furrowed instantly, a flicker of something--disgust, and was that panic?--flashed in his eyes.

Apollo seemed to sense the hostility. The small cat shrank back into Estella's arms.

"What is that thing?" Alden's voice was ice. It was a command, not a question.

Estella held Apollo tighter, meeting his gaze. "A cat. His name is Apollo. He lives here now."

Alden's face darkened. "You know I'm severely allergic to cats, Estella. Get it out of my house. Now."

He emphasized my house.

Estella knew it was a lie. Early in their marriage, she had watched him stroke his mother's Persian cat without so much as a sniffle. This wasn't about an allergy.

This was about power.

"This is my home too," Estella replied, her voice just as cold. "And he is staying."

Alden didn't waste any more words on her. He turned to the housekeeper, who stood frozen by the doorway.

"Take that animal and get rid of it. Send it back to whatever shelter it came from."

The housekeeper's face was a mask of distress. She looked from Alden's furious expression to Estella, and started to take a reluctant step forward.

Estella stood up, shielding the tiny cat behind her. She felt like a lioness protecting her cub.

"Don't you dare touch him."

The air in the living room solidified. This was the first time they had faced off so directly, so viscerally, over something tangible.

Alden looked at her defiant stance, and a humorless smile twisted his lips. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Gunner," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "Freeze all supplementary credit cards under Mrs. Molina's name. Effective immediately."

Estella's stomach dropped.

Those cards were her only independent financial lifeline in this house. While her surgeon's salary was substantial, it didn't cover the lifestyle expenses required of a Molina.

Alden hung up, his eyes fixed on her. He held all the power, and he knew it.

"You have two options, Estella. The cat goes, or your financial freedom goes. Your choice."

She clutched the trembling body of Apollo, cornered by a choice between her emotional solace and her survival. The weight of his control was suffocating, a humiliation that burned in her chest.