Chapter 5

Ava poured two fingers of Macallan whiskey into a crystal glass. She took a sip, letting the burn slide down her throat. She stood in the center of the penthouse living room, admiring a large abstract painting on the wall. She felt fantastic.

The front door clicked open.

Eldridge walked in. He was soaked to the bone. The trench coat clung to his shivering frame. His hair was plastered to his face. He looked like a ghost.

He stood in the entryway, water dripping from his clothes onto the expensive rug, staring at her with eyes full of murder.

Suddenly, he lunged forward. He grabbed a decorative velvet throw pillow from the sofa and threw it at her. It sailed weakly through the air, landing harmlessly at her feet.

"Are you happy now? !" Eldridge screamed, his voice cracking. "You completely destroyed my reputation!"

Ava stepped to the side, letting the pillow hit the wall. She took another sip of whiskey.

"I didn't destroy anything," Ava said smoothly. "That fake, manipulative little green tea bitch did it all by herself."

"She was just trying to avoid a scene!" Eldridge yelled, his hands balling into fists. He was still trying to defend her, still trying to hold onto the lie.

Ava's eyes hardened. She set the glass down on the coffee table with a sharp clink. She walked slowly toward him.

"You really are blind," Ava said. She stopped right in front of him. She reached out and patted the flat, hard stomach of the male body she was wearing.

She let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, I guess I should tell you. I didn't just go to the hospital to check my head today."

Eldridge froze. The anger drained out of him, replaced by a sudden, cold dread. "What are you talking about?"

Ava leaned in close, her lips almost touching his ear.

"The doctor ran some blood tests," Ava whispered. "Congratulations, Eldridge. This body... is two months pregnant."

The silence in the room was absolute.

Eldridge's face turned the color of ash. His breathing stopped. A loud, rushing sound filled his ears.

"You're lying," Eldridge gasped, his voice barely audible. He grabbed the lapels of her suit jacket, his hands shaking violently. "We haven't slept together in three months!"

Ava stepped back, holding her hands up in mock innocence. She tilted her head.

"I know," Ava said, a wicked smile spreading across her face. "So, who do you think the father is? Do you think it's Derek?"

The name hit Eldridge like a physical blow to the stomach. Derek Abbott. Ava's ex-boyfriend. The man who still looked at Ava like she hung the moon.

The ultimate, primal fear of every man-being cuckolded, having his wife carry another man's child-exploded in Eldridge's brain.

He lost his mind.

He grabbed Ava's arm, his fingernails digging into the fabric of the suit. He dragged her toward the door with a manic, desperate strength.

"We are going to the doctor," Eldridge roared, spit flying from his lips. "Right now! I demand a test!"

Ava stumbled along, laughing out loud. The sound of her deep, masculine laughter echoing in the hallway only fueled his panic.

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in the sterile, bright office of Eldridge's concierge doctor on Park Avenue. Eldridge bounced his leg up and down, chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes bloodshot.

The doctor walked in holding a piece of paper. He looked confused.

"Mrs. Hall," the doctor said, looking at Eldridge. "Your stat HCG blood test is completely negative. You are not pregnant."

The tension snapped. Eldridge slumped back in the chair, letting out a massive, shuddering breath. The relief was so intense it made him dizzy.

Then, the realization hit him.

He turned his head slowly. Ava was sitting in the corner chair, her hand covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Pure, unadulterated rage boiled in Eldridge's veins.

When they got back to the penthouse, Eldridge walked straight to the top of the spiral staircase. He pointed a trembling finger down the steps.

"We are switching back," Eldridge demanded. "Right now. We are doing it again."

Ava stopped laughing. She looked down the long, steep drop of marble stairs. She swallowed hard. It was terrifying. But she hated this situation just as much as he did.

"Fine," Ava said.

Ten minutes later, they stood at the top of the stairs. They were both wearing heavy winter coats, knee pads, and thick ski helmets. They looked ridiculous.

"On three," Eldridge said, his voice muffled by the helmet.

They grabbed each other's hands.

"One. Two. Three!"

They threw themselves forward.

The descent was a nightmare of blunt force trauma. They bounced off the hard edges, their bodies tangling and slamming against the stone.

They hit the bottom floor with a heavy, sickening thud.

Eldridge groaned. His entire body felt like it had been beaten with baseball bats. He reached up with trembling hands and unbuckled the ski helmet. He pulled it off.

He looked down at his hands. Small. Delicate. Manicured.

He reached up and touched his face. High cheekbones. Soft skin.

He turned his head. Ava was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling, wearing the male body.

"Failed," Eldridge whispered, his voice cracking with despair.

They lay there on the cold floor for a long time, the silence heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Ava rolled over and pushed herself up. She took off the helmet and tossed it aside. She stood up, wincing slightly, but her eyes were clear and hard.

She looked down at Eldridge, who was still curled on the floor.

"Since we are stuck like this," Ava declared, her voice ringing with absolute authority, "starting tomorrow, I am taking over Hall Corp. You can stay here and play the dutiful billionaire's wife."

Eldridge's eyes widened in horror. He tried to sit up, to protest, but his ribs screamed in pain.

He could only watch helplessly as Ava turned her back on him and walked straight toward his private study, ready to seize his empire.