Avery dresses for work in a navy pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse. She slips on a pair of flats and clasps a small watch around her wrist to hide the ugly purple bruise. She walks downstairs and finds Andrew in the living room with a doctor.

"How is he?" she asks the doctor.

"He doesn't have a fever, but the wounds are quite serious," the doctor says. "I'm going to give him an IV to help him regain his strength, and I'll re-bandage the wounds. At least his heart sounds normal, thank God."

The doctor busies himself with his medical bag as a petite nurse enters the room with an IV bag. Avery looks down at the coffee table. It's covered in different colored pill bottles and several rolls of bandages. There's also a tablet containing Andrew's medical records. The screen of the tablet is bright and clearly unlocked.

Avery inches toward the table, hoping to steal a glance at the records. Just as she reaches the table, the doctor leans down and flicks a switch on the side of the tablet. The screen goes dark, and the medical record is locked. She sighs.

"Are you leaving for work already?" Andrew asks, eyeing the watch on her wrist. "Have the driver take you."

"There's no need," she says. "I'll drive myself."

Andrew shrugs and waves goodbye. She grabs her purse, gives a few orders to one of the maids, and gets into the car. The one silver lining of living with Andrew is that he gives her freedom—he doesn't have his men follow her everywhere she goes.

Avery pulls into the garage and parks her car. She smiles when she sees that someone has already painted her name above the space. She gets out and locks the doors, fumbling with the keys as she puts them back into her purse.

There's a light breeze, and then a faintly medicinal smell fills her nose. She turns in a panic and comes face to face with Evan. His breathtaking eyes are searching as he stares down at her.

"Was it your last night?" he whispers, his hot breath tickling her ear.

Avery stands on her tiptoes and looks over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Robert lurking in the darkness. She wants to punch the butler in the face. He promised to keep her visit a secret but has already betrayed her.

Strong fingers grab her chin, and Evan forces her to look at him. Her heart hammers in her ears, and she bites her lip. He leans in closer until his lips are just inches from hers, and she shakes her head.

"I know it was you," he whispers. "I'm sure of it."

She feels a tug on her watch and hears a small snapping sound as Evan breaks the delicate silver links. He drops the watch on the ground and raises her hand to the light. The dark bruise stands out against her pale skin, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist, matching each finger to the bruise it made.

"I knew it was you," he says.

Avery tries to pull her hand away, but instead, Evan pushes her up against the side of her car. His eyes are hard and cold, and his mouth twists with a small, ironic smirk.

"So why did you come to see me in the middle of the night?" he asks. "Weren't you worried your fiancé would find out you were sneaking into my room? Didn't you wonder what would happen if Rebecca knew her guest was in her boyfriend's bedroom? Do you really care for me that much—enough to risk everything?"

"You think too much," she says. "You were in shock last night. The doctor said you might not make it. As your ex-wife, I came to pay my respects and say goodbye."

"Came to see goodbye?" Evan scoffs. "But you cleaned my back and applied medicine to it. You wouldn't do that if you really thought I was going to die."

"No, that didn't happen," she says. "You must have imagined it. You had a very high fever, you know."

Violent lips press against hers, and he pushes her harder into the side of her car. She tries to push him away, but he's too strong. His lips crash against hers, and he slips his tongue inside her mouth, demanding a response. She surrenders and throws her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

There's a bright flash, and Avery freezes and tries to pull away. Evan slides his hand up the back of her neck and tangles his fingers in her hair. He bites her lower lip and tries to kiss her again. There's another flash.

"Evan, stop," she whispers.

Evan ignores her and presses his lips to hers. He pulls her body against his, sliding his hand down her back to squeeze her ass. She fumbles for a chain around her neck, pulling it out from underneath her blouse.

The miniature pistol Evan gave her hangs on the end of the chain like a pendant. She cocks the gun and presses the muzzle against Evan's neck. Evan freezes with his lips against hers. She jabs the gun harder against his neck, and he slowly pulls his head away.

"Don't touch me," she says. "We're divorced. From the moment I left the Howel house, you've been nothing to me. You have no right to touch me anymore."

"You still have me in your heart," Evan says. "You still love me, I know it."

"Don't push me," she says, sliding the gun down to his chest.

Evan stares down at the pistol with fear in his eyes. She smiles and pulls the pistol away, pointing it at her own chest instead. She holds the pistol over her heart, taking deep breaths to keep her hands from shaking. Evan's eyes widen, and he backs away.

"I won't force you," he says, raising his hands above his head. "Just put the gun down."

"You need to stay away from me," she says. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but it won't end well. Stay away from Andrew and me. I'm not yours anymore, okay?"

Evan nods, and she lowers the gun. She walks toward the elevator, careful to hide the necklace inside her shirt before getting on the elevator. As soon as the doors slide shut, she takes a shaky breath and wipes a single tear from her eye.

D.O. Its large auditorium is packed with employees, designers, and a few special clients. Everyone is eager to see Avery and Crystal reveal their designs. The room buzzes with anticipation as Evan walks in. Rebecca loops her arm through his, and they walk to their seats near the stage. As he walks, he hears people gossiping about the designers.

"What do you mean, you think Avery will win?" a short man says to his coworker. "Crystal has over eight years of experience, and she knows how to work under pressure. Avery is a nobody—I'm sure the pressure of this competition has destroyed her."

"No way," says his friend. "Crystal may have more experience, but her designs are a little stale. I bet Avery's design will be bolder and more innovative."

Evan walks slowly, trying to listen to as many conversations as possible. Most people seem to think Crystal will win, but there are a few who back Avery. The younger employees seem more likely to support Avery—if she wins, they might be able to convince their superiors to let them take on new responsibilities.

As they stroll down the red carpet, Rebecca tries to make small talk, but he ignores her. She places her palm on the back of his upper arm, and he freezes. He pulls his arm away from hers and puts his hands in his pockets.

"Did you hear what I said?" she asks. "I said thank you for attending this competition with me. I had no idea it would be such a big deal or that there would be so many people."

Evan nods and walks to the front row. The two center seats have his and Rebecca's names taped onto them. He sits down and crosses his legs, looking up at the stage. There's a wooden podium to the left side and the D.O. The logo is projected onto a huge screen.

"I guess we'll see if Avery pulled through or not," Rebecca says. "I hope she's not too nervous."