Chapter 2

The next morning, the world tilted.

My personal shopper, a woman whose discretion I'd always trusted, called, her voice tight with an emotion I couldn't decipher.

"Mrs. Hamilton, there's... talk. About a special item at tonight's private Gilded Circle gala."

The Gilded Circle. New York's most exclusive, most depraved playground for the ultra-rich.

"What kind of item, Clara?"

A pause. "It's... you, Mrs. Hamilton. They're calling it the 'Ephemeral Experience.' An auction for a night with you."

The phone slipped from my numb fingers, clattering onto the Persian rug.

Later, hiding in the library alcove, I heard Jackson's voice, booming with laughter, from the adjoining smoking room. His usual cronies were with him.

"Can you believe it? Five years, and she still thinks I'm just a clean freak." Jackson's drawl was thick with contempt.

"Sophia was brilliant," another voice, probably Mark, chimed in. "Telling you she's 'allergic' to Emily's natural scent. Genius. Keeps the little mouse in her place."

Jackson chuckled. "This auction is perfect. Sophia gets a kick out of it, and frankly, Emily's probably desperate. Five years untouched? She'll be grateful to whoever places the winning bid. The woman's practically vibrating with need. Disgusting, really."

A chorus of crude laughter.

"And to think she actually touched my collar last night. The nerve. As if she's worthy of the same air Sophia breathes." More disinfectant spray hissed. "Had to sterilize the spot immediately."

The seedling of hope withered, turning to ash.

My mind raced back to the wedding. A merger of two dynasties. My grandfather, stern but fair, had looked at me with pity.

"This is for the family, Emily. But I've had a clause inserted into the prenuptial agreement. Mr. Davies, our family attorney, holds it. If Jackson ever... causes you extreme harm, or betrays you in an egregious manner, you can enact it. It allows for an immediate, no-contest annulment."

A lifeline.

My trembling fingers fumbled for my phone, dialing Mr. Davies's private number.

"Mr. Davies," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "It's Emily Hamilton. I think... I think it's time."