Evan looks at her sarcastically and his meaning is self-evident. Avery stands alone, isolated and helpless; she glances between the second button of his shirt and his cold eyes. He's been in an irritable mood all day, and his injuries seem to be making him even crankier. She knows she should avoid upsetting him further, and she also knows that her presence will inevitably irritate him.

"I'll go to the staff rooms," she says, without hesitation.

"The damned woman would rather go to the staff dormitory than stay with me," Evan thinks bitterly.

The atmosphere feels tense and airless. Evan sneers cruelly and snaps his fingers. Immediately, Robert asks a bodyguard to lead Avery to the staff dormitory.

As soon as the doors to the presidential suite close behind Avery, a loud series of crashes sounds from within. Evan throws everything within his reach: lamps, ashtrays, vases, and the tea table smash against floors and walls. Robert looks worriedly at his boss' back. The bandaged wounds have reopened and blood stains the back of Evan's clean shirt.

Evan punches the wall, streaking the white paint with blood until his hands go numb and he can't feel the pain.

"The wall is like her heart: hard as iron and steel and just as impenetrable," Evan thinks.

The elevator descends to the second floor, and Avery follows the bodyguard to the staff dormitory. The room is small, but it looks like a standard hotel room with two small, neatly made beds piled with sheets and quilts. The walls are bare, but every necessity is provided. Two bedside tables display a small collection of necessities: soaps, shampoos, conditioners, and lotions.

Avery's eyes sweep the room. One of the bedside tables is in disarray, covered with a chaotic collection of personal belongings. Amidst the mess, Avery notices a medicine bottle. She squints at the fine print on the bottle and reads the name "Yasmin."

"Is someone else living here?" she asks.

"A dancer lives here normally, but she asked for leave," the bodyguard explains, "This room is temporarily empty."

Avery nods without saying a word. The bodyguard examines the bathroom and checks behind the curtains before hanging Avery a plastic card.

"Mr. Howel asked me to give this to you," the guard says, "If you need anything here, you can just use this card. I'll leave you know."

Avery accepts the card—it is emblazoned with the hotel logo and it only works within the hotel. As soon as the bodyguard leaves, Avery checks the room to see if there's a landline she can use. She still hasn't been able to contact Charles, and she's starting to get worried. She wanted to call him earlier, but her phone won't work and she knows it's foolish to ask to borrow someone else's. Evan would be furious with her if she asked to use his, and Robert would report her call to his boss.

She was hoping to use a landline as soon as they arrived at the hotel, but she quickly realized it was impossible. As long as she's with Evan, her every action is examined as if she's under a microscope. She knew she had to get away from him, and the staff dormitory seemed like the perfect opportunity. Unfortunately, there are no phones in the staff rooms. All hotel staff is expected to use their mobile phones if they want to communicate with the outside world.

Cautiously, Avery peeks out into the hallway, but she doesn't see any bodyguards. Hopeful that they've left her alone, she goes down to the front desk and asks to use one of the lobby phones. Quickly, she dials Charles—she has dozens of questions for him—but his phone has been turned off. She tries again and again, but every time his phone goes to voicemail.

"Charles never turns his phone off," Avery thinks, "What's going on?"

Avery is restless and distracted, staring at the phone in her hand when someone bumps her in the shoulder. She smells a potent perfume and finds that there are several gorgeously dressed women checking in at the front desk.

"Fortunately, I was resourceful and reserved a room in advance," says the woman who bumped her, triumphantly tapping her keycard on the front desk.

"I've heard there are rooms where you can't book, no matter how much money you have," says another woman, "They're constantly reserved for the most influential families. I've heard a suite here can cost a million per night."

"Are Mr. Howel and Mr. Clifford staying in this hotel?" asks a third.

"It's true, otherwise why would it be so difficult to book a room?" gossips one of the women, "But unfortunately Mr. Howel is married, so we'd better try for Mr. Clifford. Don't compete with me, though, I want him all for myself."

"Every woman wants a good man," snaps the second, "But you're not married to him yet. As far as I'm concerned, he's fair game for all of us—never mind that we're friends."

"Oh, it's no use getting married," says one bitterly, "They can always divorce you."

One of the women quickly glances around the lobby and then lowers her voice. Her friends huddle around her to hear.

"Haven't you heard that Mr. Howel and Mrs. Howel are on bad terms with each other?" she whispers, "No matter how handsome and wealthy other men are, no one can compare to Mr. Howel. You all can chase after Mr. Clifford, but leave Mr. Howel to me."

The women giggle and prepare to head to their room. Suddenly one of them pauses and looks directly at Avery.

"Mrs. Howel?" she shouts.

Avery looks up from the phone in her hand. Among the women, she recognizes Lisa Cindy from an incident at the jewelry store.

"Lisa, do you know her?" asks one of the women.

"Weren't you just saying you'd like to seduce Mr. Howel?" one of the women says maliciously, "Maybe you should ask for Mrs. Howel's blessing."

Lisa whispers a few harsh words to her friend and then looks critically at the landline receiver in Avery's hand.

"Are you making a call?" she asks.

Avery ask. Charles's mobile phone is still off.

"I don't think we're acquainted," Avery says cooly.

"Perhaps you've blocked the memory," Lisa says significantly, "We met at the jewelry store..."

Lisa pauses and casts a meaningful look at her group of friends.

"You might not believe it but Mrs. Howel asked the clerks to close the store as soon as she entered," she says in a stage whisper.

"Really? Was she so haughty?" replies one woman.

"She insisted on buying almost all of the jewelry—hundreds of millions of dollars worth, and you'll never guess what happened," continues Lisa.

"Don't keep us in suspense!" begs Lisa's friend, "Just tell us already."

Lisa pauses dramatically; she's told this story many times and each time she adds additional flair. She glances at Avery casually, building suspense for her friends.

"The shop assistant wrapped up all the jewelry, and then she had to put it back. Mrs. Howel's credit card was denied."

"Oh, really?" gasps one woman, "That's so humiliating."

"You're kidding me!" says another, "Mr. Howel is so rich."

"It doesn't matter how rich her husband is if he won't let her spend his money," says Lisa, "He gave Leonie a $200 million Graff pink diamond ring the day before."

"Wow, he gave Leonie a $200 million diamond ring, but he won't allow his legal wife to spend a penny?" marvels Lisa's friend, "It's no wonder people say he hates her and wants a divorce!"

Avery sniffs disdainfully and leans against the front desk. Lisa's petty attempts to annoy her are almost humorous. She coldly surveys the women.

"Don't worry yourselves too much. None of you will ever be Mr. Howel's legal wife, so you don't need to concern yourselves with his behavior as a husband. Women like you were born to be mistresses," Avery says, "Enjoy the jewelry—if you can get it."

Avery walks away, leaving the women in stunned silence. By the time they've regained their voices, she's entering the stairwell.

"What an arrogant woman!" gasps, "How dare she say we're destined to be mistresses?"

"Only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches," says another thoughtfully, "I certainly don't envy her."

Lisa rushes to the front desk.

"Do Mr. and Mrs. Howel live together?" she demands.

"Sorry, we can't disclose our guests' information," the front desk clerk answers with a professional smile.

"Shh!" Lisa quiets her friends, "You guys go up to the room—I'll be right back."

Lisa remembers from previous stays that the presidential suite has a private elevator, but Avery didn't take the private elevator. She assumes that a man like Evan Howel would be staying in the presidential suite, and her suspicions are instantly aroused. She follows Avery on tiptoe and sees Avery enter a staff dormitory.

"Mrs. Howel lives in the staff dormitory?" she thinks incredulously, "This is wonderful news for me!"

…

Back in the presidential suite, Evan just puts on a dark blue shirt and buttons the last cufflink. Robert walks anxiously toward him.

"Mr. Howel," Robert says after a pause, "Mrs. Howel just borrowed the phone from the front desk. I think she called Dr. Meyer.

"Where is his phone?"

"It's all settled," Robert assures him, "Dr. Meyer' phone has been turned off."

Robert asked his men to dispose of the body and the phone, and he's confident that they haven't made any mistakes. However, he still can't shake the uneasy feeling that something bad is going to happen.

"Do you know what to say if Mrs. Howel asks you about Dr. Meyer?" Evan inquires.

"Of course," says Robert.