Chapter 3 3

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the foyer of the penthouse. Avery stepped out, her heels sinking into the plush carpet. The lights in the apartment were dimmed to a romantic low, and the soft, mournful notes of a jazz saxophone drifted from the integrated sound system.

She stopped.

Right in the center of the entryway rug, a pair of red stilettos had been kicked off haphazardly. One lay on its side, the red sole gleaming under the recessed lighting. Avery recognized them immediately. They were the limited edition Louboutins she had mentioned wanting three months ago. Augustus had said they were "too flashy" for a Preston.

Apparently, they weren't too flashy for someone else.

Avery walked into the living room, her footsteps silent.

Gilda Nichols was lounging on the Italian leather sofa, a glass of red wine in her hand. She was a beautiful woman, in a sharp, predatory way, with dark hair and eyes that always seemed to be calculating the cost of everything in the room.

She was wearing a white dress shirt. Nothing else.

The shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the curve of her chest. It was Augustus's shirt. Avery had bought it for him in Milan.

Gilda looked up, feigning surprise. She took a slow sip of wine, her gaze raking over Avery's damp coat and tired face. She didn't make a move to cover her bare legs.

"Mrs. Garrison," Gilda purred, the title dripping with syrup. "We didn't expect you back so soon."

A flash of anger sparked in Avery's chest-a primal, territorial instinct-but she suffocated it instantly. She remembered her wedding night, sitting alone in this very room while Augustus went out to "celebrate with the boys." She remembered the coldness.

"Where is my husband?" Avery asked, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The glass doors to the balcony slid open. Augustus walked in, a trail of cigar smoke following him. He was wearing suit trousers but no shirt. He stopped when he saw Avery, a frown creasing his forehead. He looked annoyed, like a man whose favorite show had been interrupted by a commercial.

"You're back," he said, sounding bored. "I thought you'd be babysitting Brandon all night. Did you get the drunk under control?"

"He's at the estate," Avery said quietly.

Augustus walked past her, not even glancing at her face. He went straight to the wine bottle on the sideboard and poured a refill for Gilda. The disrespect was palpable. He treated Avery like a piece of furniture that had been placed in an inconvenient spot.

Gilda giggled as Augustus handed her the glass, her hand lingering on his bare arm. She looked at Avery with triumph in her eyes.

Avery clutched her chest. She forced her diaphragm to spasm, initiating a dry, hacking cough. She bent over, her body shaking with the effort.

"For God's sake," Augustus snapped, rolling his eyes. "Are you sick again?"

"I... I think I caught a chill in the rain," Avery wheezed, looking up at him with watery eyes.

"Well, don't stand there infecting us," Augustus said, waving his hand dismissively toward the hallway. "Go to your room. And close the door. I don't want to hear that hacking all night."

"I'm sorry, Augustus," Avery whispered. She looked at Gilda, offering a weak, apologetic nod. Gilda smirked, nestling deeper into the sofa.

Avery turned and retreated. She walked down the long hallway to the guest bedroom-the room she had slept in for the last two years.

She entered the room and closed the door softly. Then, she locked it.

The coughing stopped instantly.

Avery stood in the center of the dark room, her breathing perfectly even. She walked to the closet and reached into the lining of her winter coat, pulling out a small, cheap burner phone.

She powered it on. The screen glowed in the darkness.

She typed a message, her thumbs moving with lightning speed.

The incubator is secure. Proceed.

She hit send.

She walked to the wall calendar hanging by the desk. A date, two weeks from now, was circled in red ink. She touched the circle with her fingertip.

"Enjoy the wine, Gilda," she whispered to the empty room. "You're going to need it."