Chapter 4

Ellery didn't answer his question. There was nothing left to say.

She simply looked at him, her expression unreadable.

"Do you not like what I did?" she asked, her voice soft.

"No," he snapped, his answer immediate and petulant. "I don' t."

He wanted her to be jealous. He needed her to be heartbroken to validate his own ego, to prove that what they had, whatever it was, had meant something to her.

"I won' t do it again, then," she said, her tone flat and final.

She pushed open the car door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She didn' t look back, just walked calmly toward her apartment building, the click of her heels on the pavement the only sound in the quiet street.

As she stepped out of the elevator on her floor, a man was waiting by his door. It was her neighbor, a kind-faced architect she' d exchanged pleasantries with a few times.

"Ellery," he said, a warm smile on his face. "I was hoping I' d run into you. I was wondering if I could get your number? I' d love to take you out for a coffee sometime."

Before she could respond, a shadow fell over them.

Dawson.

He had followed her.

He stepped between them, his body a physical barrier. His face was a thundercloud of possessive fury.

"She' s my girlfriend," Dawson snarled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

The neighbor' s friendly smile evaporated. He looked from Dawson' s furious face to Ellery' s impassive one, mumbled an apology, and quickly disappeared into his apartment.

Ellery turned to Dawson, her patience finally wearing thin. She pushed his hand off her arm.

"What are you doing here, Dawson?"

He thrust her phone at her, his expression sullen. "You left this in the car."

It was a flimsy excuse. She took the phone.

"Thank you."

"Don' t give your number to anyone," he commanded, his voice sharp.

"Why not?" she asked, her voice deceptively mild.

"Because I said so," he said, as if that were reason enough. It always had been before.

He took off his expensive cashmere coat and shoved it into her hands.

"Hang this on your door."

It was a territorial marking. A signal to the neighbor, to a world, that this was his property.

When she didn' t move, he snatched the coat back, a frustrated sound escaping his lips. He hung it himself on the exterior doorknob, a flag of ownership, before turning and storming back toward the elevator without another word.

Ellery watched him go. Then, she calmly took the coat off the doorknob, walked to the trash chute at the end of the hall, and dropped it in.

A week later was the Parks Corporation' s annual anniversary gala. It was the social event of the season, and as Dawson' s chief secretary, Ellery' s attendance was mandatory. It would be her last official duty.

A text from Dawson arrived in the afternoon.

Kenzie' s dress is in my changing room. Make sure she looks perfect.

When Ellery entered the private suite, she found Kenzie in tears, holding up a magnificent couture gown that had been slashed, its delicate fabric ruined.

"Ellery! Look at this!" Kenzie sobbed, her voice trembling. "The dress you prepared is ruined! What am I going to do?"

Ellery examined the tear. It was clean, deliberate. Not a snag or a faulty seam. It had been cut with scissors. She looked at Kenzie' s perfectly manicured hands, a pair of small, gold-plated sewing scissors sitting innocently on the vanity.

She saw the game immediately.

"I can call the boutique and have them send over a replacement," Ellery offered, her voice professional.

"There' s no time!" Kenzie wailed.

"I have a backup gown in my office. It' s part of the contingency plan for events like this."

"It won' t be the same! This one was special!" Kenzie refused every solution, her tears becoming more theatrical.

Dawson, hearing the commotion, came in. "What' s wrong?"

Kenzie looked at him, her eyes wide and pleading. Then, she looked at Ellery' s own elegant, simple black gown.

"Ellery," she said, her voice a soft, tremulous whisper. "Maybe... maybe we could switch dresses?"

Ellery' s jaw tightened. The humiliation was the point.

"I' m afraid I can' t do that," Ellery said, her voice firm but polite. "As your chief secretary, Mr. Parks, it is my duty to represent the company. My attire is part of that. I cannot appear in a damaged gown."

"I can call someone to bring you another," Kenzie pressed.

"There isn' t time," Ellery replied, using Kenzie' s own excuse against her. "The receiving line starts in fifteen minutes."

Kenzie' s lower lip trembled. She turned to Dawson, her ultimate weapon.

"Dawson... please? This night is so important to me. To us."

His expression softened. He looked from Kenzie' s tear-streaked face to Ellery' s composed one.

"Ellery," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Switch with her."

"Mr. Parks, my responsibilities–"

"I' m your boss," he cut her off, his tone sharp. "I' m not asking. I' m telling you. Switch. Now."

Ellery closed her eyes for a brief second. She took a deep breath, then nodded. She walked into the attached bathroom and changed, the torn fabric cold against her skin.

The dress was a disaster. The slash ran from her hip to her thigh, exposing a long gash of skin. It was designed to be vulgar, to be humiliating.

Kenzie, now radiant in Ellery' s perfectly tailored gown, preened in front of the mirror.

"Dawson, who looks better?" she asked, a triumphant, malicious glint in her eyes.

"You, of course," he answered, his gaze fixed on Kenzie, completely oblivious to the state of Ellery' s attire. "You look beautiful."

Kenzie shot Ellery a smug look. "Hurry up, Ellery. We' re going to be late."

Ellery looked at her reflection in the mirror. The torn, revealing dress. The woman who had been forced to wear it. A slow, cold anger began to build inside her.

Fine, she thought. You want me to be a disgrace? I' ll be the most stunning disgrace you' ve ever seen.

With a surgeon' s precision, she gripped the torn edge of the fabric. And with a single, decisive motion, she ripped it further, transforming the vulgar gash into a daring, deliberate, thigh-high slit. She used a pin from her hair to secure the fabric at her hip, creating an entirely new, audacious silhouette.

If she was going to be humiliated, she was going to do it on her own terms.