Chapter 3

The black Rolls-Royce glided to a stop in front of the red carpet. Camera flashes exploded like lightning, capturing the arrival of Silicon Valley's most powerful couple.

Kendrick stepped out first. He extended a hand, his face the picture of absolute devotion. Cora placed her hand in his and let him guide her out of the car.

The moment her heels touched the marble floors of the Metropolitan Museum's grand hall, she felt the weight of a hundred eyes on her. The air was thick with the smell of expensive perfume and raw jealousy.

Within seconds, Kendrick was cornered by three Wall Street executives. He squeezed Cora's waist, whispered an apology, and stepped away, leaving her standing alone near a towering champagne pyramid.

Before she could even grab a glass, a group of women in designer silk moved in. They formed a tight circle around her, backing her into the corner of the room.

Chelsea, the heiress of a legacy real estate family, stood at the front. She snapped her decorative fan shut and looked Cora up and down with disgust.

"No matter how much Kendrick spends on you," Chelsea said loudly, her voice carrying over the music, "you can never wash off the stench of the Rust Belt, can you?"

A chorus of sharp, mocking laughter erupted from the women. Cora gripped her champagne flute. Her knuckles turned stark white.

Chelsea took a step closer, her eyes gleaming with malice. "I heard your brother is a convict. Tell me, Cora, how exactly did a slum rat like you climb into Kendrick Pope's bed? What kind of tricks did you have to perform?"

Cora's chest heaved. She looked Chelsea dead in the eye. "My brother's mistakes are his own. But at least my family isn't filing for Chapter 11 under the Bankruptcy Code this week, Chelsea. How is the liquidation going?"

Chelsea's face flushed a violent, ugly red. The humiliation snapped her control. She raised her glass of red wine and violently hurled the liquid straight at Cora's face.

Cora gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

But the wine never hit her.

Just as Chelsea's wrist flicked forward, Cora saw a blur of motion from the periphery of her vision. Kendrick's head had snapped toward the commotion. His eyes widened in absolute horror. He violently shoved past a stunned hedge fund manager, his expensive dress shoes skidding against the polished marble floor. He lunged across the open space, throwing his body directly between Cora and the incoming liquid.

He crashed into her, a solid, warm chest that smelled of cold cedarwood, taking the entire glass of red wine directly to the back of his light grey suit jacket.

The entire grand hall went dead silent. The music seemed to stop. Everyone stared in absolute horror at the tech giant.

Kendrick slowly took off his ruined jacket. He wrapped it gently around Cora's trembling shoulders, his hands lingering on her arms to make sure she wasn't hurt.

Then, he turned around. He looked at Chelsea. His eyes were completely hollow, like he was looking at a corpse.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. He put it on speaker.

"Pull every single bridge loan we have with Chelsea's family," Kendrick ordered, his voice echoing in the silent room. "Liquidate their assets by morning."

Chelsea's knees buckled. She collapsed onto the marble floor, sobbing hysterically and begging for mercy. Two massive security guards grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out of the hall like a piece of trash.

The surrounding socialites turned pale, staring at the floor, terrified to even breathe.

Kendrick wrapped his arm tightly around Cora's waist. He looked around the room. "If anyone touches my wife, you deal with the Pope Consortium."

A wave of nervous, fake applause broke out. Cora leaned against his chest. Her heart swelled with a sudden, overwhelming sense of safety. He had protected her.

Kendrick guided her away from the crowd, leading her up the grand staircase to a dimly lit VIP balcony on the second floor.

"Kendrick, thank you," Cora started, looking up at him.

Before the words fully left her mouth, Kendrick lunged forward. He slammed her back against the freezing marble railing. His hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist like an iron vice. He squeezed so hard Cora felt her bones grinding together.

"Don't you ever provoke people in public again," Kendrick hissed, his face inches from hers, his eyes burning with a psychotic rage. "Do you understand? You could have been physically injured!"

Cora gasped in pain, tears springing to her eyes. She stared at his twisted, furious face. The warmth in her chest turned to pure ice.

He wasn't defending her dignity. He was furious that her physical body-her organs-had been put at risk.

Kendrick felt her shaking violently. He looked down at his hand crushing her wrist. He blinked, and the rage vanished. He let go instantly.

He grabbed her hand and pressed his lips to the angry red marks on her skin. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Cora. I just... I can't stand the thought of anything damaging you."

Cora nodded numbly, forcing herself to swallow the bile rising in her throat. Her stomach cramped with fear.

"I need to use the restroom," she whispered, pulling her hand away. Without waiting for his answer, she turned and practically ran down the dark hallway, desperate to escape his presence.