Chapter 3

Camelia sat on the tall leather barstool in the kitchen. She pressed a blue gel ice pack hard against her swollen right ankle. The skin was already turning a dark, angry purple.

The screen of her phone, resting on the marble counter, lit up. A loud ringtone shattered the quiet room.

Camelia glanced at the caller ID. It was Joy Jacobs. She tapped the green accept button and put it on speakerphone.

"Hey," Camelia said. She sucked in a sharp breath as the ice hit a tender spot.

"What was that noise?" Joy demanded instantly, her voice sharp through the speaker. "Are you hurt?"

Camelia kept her voice flat. She stared at her bruised skin. She recounted the entire incident at the sunken stairs, word for word.

A loud, piercing shriek of pure rage exploded from the phone speaker.

"That blind bastard!" Joy screamed. "I swear to God, Camelia, I am going to castrate him!"

Joy didn't stop to take a breath. "He is legally blind! He treats you like garbage because he actually believes you're just a gold-digger after the Morrow family money! He is a pathetic, arrogant piece of shit!"

The front door of the penthouse clicked open.

Duke walked in. He had left his confidential files in the study and came back to retrieve them.

His leather shoes stopped dead at the edge of the hallway.

Joy's voice continued to blast through the kitchen, echoing off the high ceilings. Every insult, every curse word, rang crystal clear.

The muscles in Duke's jaw locked. His face turned the color of thunder.

He marched into the kitchen area. The air around him felt like a physical weight.

Duke lunged forward. His large hand snatched the phone right off the marble counter.

His thumb slammed down on the red end-call button. Joy's voice cut off instantly.

Duke threw the phone back down onto the hard stone counter. The glass screen protector cracked with a sharp snap.

He stood over Camelia, his chest heaving. "Not only are you malicious," Duke spat, "but you also sit around badmouthing your husband to outsiders."

Camelia lowered the ice pack. She looked straight up into his furious eyes. "She is my best friend. And she is telling the truth."

"Get dressed," Duke snapped, cutting her off. "You are going to the hospital."

He pointed a long finger at her face. "You are going to stand beside Christabel's bed, and you are going to apologize for pushing her."

"No," Camelia said. Her voice was ice-cold. "I am not going anywhere."

She enunciated every single word. "I did not push anyone."

Duke slammed his open palm down on the marble island. The water glasses rattled violently.

"Her kidneys are failing!" Duke yelled, his teeth bared. "She is too weak to stand, let alone throw herself down a flight of stairs just to frame you!"

A short, harsh laugh scraped its way out of Camelia's throat. It was a sound of pure mockery.

The sound of her laughter snapped the last thread of Duke's control. He reached across the counter and grabbed her uninjured left arm.

His fingers dug brutally into her bicep. "Do not test my patience, Camelia."

Camelia ignored the burning pain in her arm. She tilted her chin up, her eyes maintaining a flat, impenetrable calm. "If my presence is so offensive, Duke," she said, her voice dropping to a quiet, passive murmur, "perhaps you should consider how to end this arrangement sooner rather than later."

Duke's entire body went rigid. His grip on her arm loosened for a fraction of a second.

Then, a cruel sneer twisted his lips. He shoved her arm away. "Nice try. You won't get a single dime of alimony early."

He turned on his heel. He stormed into the study, grabbed a manila folder off the desk, and marched out of the apartment.

The front door slammed shut again. Camelia sat alone in the kitchen, slowly rubbing the red, finger-shaped marks blooming on her left arm.