The harsh fluorescent lights forced my eyes open. A sharp smell of rubbing alcohol assaulted my nose.

"Has she been abused all these years?" a man asked.

I turned my head toward the voice. A doctor in a white coat stood at the foot of my hospital bed, holding a metal clipboard.

Damian leaned against the doorframe. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his arms crossed over his chest. A deep crease formed between his eyebrows. He actually frowned.

"Malnutrition," the doctor continued, tapping his pen against the metal. "Severe vitamin deficiencies. She has old micro-fractures in her ribs that didn't heal properly. Plus, she was wearing a threadbare blazer in forty-degree weather. Mr. Blake, your wife is starving."

Damian pushed off the doorframe. "Leave us."

The doctor scurried out of the room, shutting the heavy wooden door behind him.

I tried to sit up. The IV line taped to my hand tugged painfully. "What happened?"

"My security detail watched you collapse at the subway station," Damian said. He walked over and tossed a thick manila folder onto my lap. "They brought you here."

"I just skipped lunch," I muttered, avoiding his intense gaze.

"You skipped a decade of lunches, Elena." He pulled a plastic chair closer to the bed and sat down. "I had Graves run a full background check on you this morning."

I stared at the heavy folder. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"You didn't have to. I don't like unsolved puzzles." He pointed at the papers scattered across my blanket. "You built the Carter logistics network from the ground up. You worked eighty-hour weeks. Your parents paid you a minimum-wage salary and funneled every cent of the profits to Sophia."

"It was a family business," I defended, my voice raspy. "I did what I had to do."

"It was exploitation." His tone lost its usual icy edge, replaced by a quiet, dangerous intensity. "Your father forced you into my car because Sophia got pregnant with your fiancé. You didn't orchestrate this marriage. You weren't after my money."

"I told you that on our wedding night."

"I didn't believe you then." He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer. "I do now."

I gripped the thin hospital blanket. "So what happens now? You file for divorce? You throw me back to them?"

"No." Damian stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over the bed. "You are coming back to the Blake estate. You will eat three meals a day. And you will stop wearing rags."

"I don't want your charity, Damian."

"It isn't charity. It's a business transaction." He checked his gold watch. "Cancel your job interviews tomorrow."

I glared at him. "Why?"

"You work for me now."

"Doing what?"

"Logistics consultant for Blake Industries," he stated smoothly. "You know the Carter supply chain better than anyone. I need that knowledge to finalize the merger."

"And if I refuse?"

"You won't." He turned toward the door. "Paid, of course. I don't exploit my employees the way your father did."

Before I could argue, he walked out.

***

Two days later, the atmosphere at the Blake estate shifted entirely. The staff stopped glaring at me. Graves actually smiled when he served my breakfast, offering me an extra plate of toast.

I sat in the sunroom, reviewing the logistics files Damian had emailed me. The front doors banged open, the sound echoing down the long marble hallway.

"Where is she?" Sophia's shrill voice pierced the quiet morning.

I closed my laptop and stood up.

Sophia marched into the sunroom, Adrian trailing closely behind her. She wore a designer maternity dress, though her stomach remained perfectly flat. Her eyes widened when she saw me standing by the fireplace.

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded, pointing a manicured finger at my face.

"I live here," I replied.

"In the main house?" Sophia scoffed. She looked around at the silk drapes and crystal chandeliers, her face twisting with envy. "He didn't kick you out?"

"Why would he?"

Her face turned a mottled red. "You're supposed to be in the gutter! He was supposed to throw you to the press!"

Adrian stepped forward, grabbing her elbow. "Sophia, let's just go. We dropped off the Carter merger documents. We don't need to do this."

She yanked her arm away. "Shut up, Adrian. Damian is a billionaire. He should be mine. If I hadn't gotten pregnant, I would be the one living in this mansion."

"But you are pregnant," I reminded her. "With his child." I gestured to Adrian.

Adrian looked at the floor. He shoved his hands into his pockets, unable to meet my eyes.

Sophia stepped into my personal space. Her perfume smelled overpowering, like rotting flowers. "You think you've won? You think Damian actually wants a used-up workhorse like you?"

"Get out of my house, Sophia."

"It's not your house!" she shrieked. "Damian belongs with me. He only kept you around out of pity. Once he gets bored, he will toss you aside."

"Graves," I called out.

The estate manager appeared instantly in the doorway. "Yes, Mrs. Blake?"

"Escort my sister and her fiancé off the property."

Sophia sneered. "Enjoy your fake marriage, Elena. It won't last."

She spun on her heel and stormed out. Adrian shot me a pathetic, apologetic look before following her retreat.

I waited until the heavy oak doors clicked shut. Then, I walked toward the foyer to retrieve my phone from the entryway table.

As I approached the open window near the driveway, their voices drifted through the glass. They hadn't reached their car yet.

"She can't stay here," Sophia hissed. "Damian belongs to me."

"You're marrying me, Sophia," Adrian argued, sounding exhausted.

"Only until I secure the Blake fortune." Gravel crunched under her shoes. "We need to frame her. Make Damian think she's a thief."

"A thief? Sophia, that's insane."

"Do it, Adrian," she ordered. "You still have access to the old servers. Use her old Carter login credentials. Transfer the funds from the Blake merger accounts into her personal offshore trust."

My stomach plummeted.

"That's a federal crime," Adrian whispered. "If we get caught—"

"We won't get caught! She's the one who handles the logistics spreadsheets now. It will trace right back to her IP address." Sophia's voice turned lethal. "I stole her backup drive before the wedding. I have all her passwords. I want Damian to hate her. I want him to destroy her."

"Sophia, she's your sister."

"She is a placeholder!" Sophia snapped. "Do it tonight."

A car door slammed shut. The engine roared to life and faded down the long driveway.

I stood frozen by the window. My own sister was plotting to send me to federal prison. She wanted to ruin the only stable ground I had left.

"Did you hear all of that?" a deep voice asked from the shadows.

I spun around.

Damian stepped out from the adjacent study. He held a crystal glass of whiskey. His dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with a dangerous fire.

"They are going to frame me," I said, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

Damian took a sip of his drink. "I know."

"We have to stop them. If they use my passwords, the board will think I embezzled the merger funds."

He set the glass down on the mahogany table. The crystal clinked sharply in the silent room.

"No," Damian replied, a ruthless smirk playing on his lips. "We are going to let them try."