General He is really miserable, got divorced by his wife.

Evelyn pulled the silk sheet up over her bare shoulders. Her chest still heaved, her breathing uneven from the intimacy they had just shared. The heat of his skin seemed to linger on hers, a phantom warmth in the dim light of the master bedroom.

Julian stood up from the edge of the mattress. He did not look back. His broad back and the hard lines of his muscles looked rigid, carved from cold stone under the glow of the wall sconce.

He walked toward the mahogany walk-in closet. His bare feet sank into the thick Persian rug, making absolutely no sound.

Evelyn watched him, her heart maintaining a steady, hopeful rhythm. That rhythm shattered when Julian emerged wearing a chilled silk robe. He held a thick manila envelope in his right hand.

He walked back to the bed and tossed the envelope onto the mattress. It landed near her knees with a heavy, muffled thud.

Evelyn's eyes dropped to the brown paper. A cold dread pooled in her stomach. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out and pulled the flap open.

She slid the documents out. The bold, black letters at the top of the first page screamed at her: DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

Evelyn snapped her head up. She stared at Julian, her eyes searching his sharp, handsome features for any sign of a cruel joke. His jaw was set.

"Sign it," Julian said. His voice held zero temperature. He looked down at her as if she were a stranger who had overstayed her welcome.

He adjusted the belt of his robe. "Scarlett landed at JFK an hour ago. I need my single status restored to welcome her back."

The name hit Evelyn like a physical blow to the sternum. Scarlett Vance.

All the blood drained from Evelyn's face. Her heart felt as if an invisible fist had reached into her chest and crushed it flat. Her lungs burned. She could not pull in a single breath.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, forcing the tears to stay behind her eyes. Suddenly, her stomach violently twisted. A wave of intense nausea surged up her throat.

Evelyn clamped a hand over her mouth. She threw the silk sheet aside, stumbled off the bed, her legs weak and shaking, and rushed into the master bathroom.

She gripped the edges of the cold marble sink. She hunched over, gagging, her body shaking as dry heaves wracked her chest.

Julian stood outside the frosted glass door. His brow furrowed in deep irritation.

"Don't use cheap tricks to stall for time, Evelyn," Julian's voice cut through the heavy door, laced with brutal mockery. "Faking an illness won't change anything."

Evelyn turned on the faucet. She splashed freezing water onto her face. She stared at her pale, hollow reflection in the mirror. The water dripped from her chin. The naive hope in her eyes died, replaced by a clear, sharp resolve.

She grabbed a towel, dried her face, and walked out of the bathroom.

She walked straight to the closet and pulled a long trench coat off a hanger. She slipped it over her shoulders, completely ignoring the divorce papers lying on the bed.

She grabbed her phone and her handbag from the nightstand. She walked right past Julian, aiming for the bedroom door.

Julian reached out and clamped his large hand around her wrist. His grip was like a steel vice.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave. "I told you to sign."

Evelyn yanked her arm with all her strength, breaking his hold. "I am going to the hospital," she said. Her voice was hoarse, but it did not shake. "The papers can wait until I get back."

She walked out of the bedroom. She moved down the empty, silent hallway, stepped into the private elevator, and pressed the button for the lobby.

The elevator doors slid open on the ground floor. The midnight wind whipped through the revolving doors of the building. Evelyn pulled the collar of her trench coat tight against her neck.

She walked out onto the sidewalk of Fifth Avenue. She raised a hand and flagged down a passing yellow cab. She climbed into the back seat.

"New York General Hospital, please," she told the driver.

She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. The neon lights of the city blurred past her. Her stomach cramped again, a sharp, twisting pain that made her curl inward.

The cab pulled up to the emergency room entrance. Evelyn handed the driver a crumpled twenty-dollar bill and pushed the door open. The bright, sterile lights of the hospital lobby blinded her for a second.

She walked to the triage desk and handed over her personal ID and her old, pre-marriage insurance card. The nurse took one look at her pale face and the sweat on her forehead, and immediately wheeled her into the OB-GYN emergency bay.

Dr. Matthews, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, walked in. She asked Evelyn a few questions about her cycle, then instructed her to lie back on the examination table.

Cold gel hit the skin of Evelyn's lower abdomen. The ultrasound wand glided over her flesh. A grainy, black-and-white image flickered onto the monitor.

Dr. Matthews stopped moving the wand. She pointed a gloved finger at the screen.

"You are pregnant, Mrs. Harrison," Dr. Matthews said, her tone serious. She pointed to two distinct dark spots. "And it is a twin pregnancy."

Evelyn stopped breathing.

"However," Dr. Matthews continued, her frown deepening, "your physical exhaustion and extreme emotional distress are causing a threatened miscarriage. You are at high risk."

Evelyn stared blankly at the monitor. Her hand moved on its own, resting flat against her stomach. The tears she had fought so hard to hold back finally spilled over her lashes, hot and fast.

"We need to admit you for observation immediately," Dr. Matthews said.

Evelyn simply nodded, her fingers pressing gently into her own flesh, protecting the two tiny lives she had just discovered.

Morning sunlight sliced through the plastic blinds of the private hospital room. Evelyn woke up to a dull, stinging pain in the back of her hand.

She blinked against the glare. An IV line fed clear fluid into her vein. A nurse pushed a medical cart into the room, wrapped a cuff around Evelyn's arm to check her blood pressure, and swapped out the empty nutrient bag for a fresh one.

Evelyn leaned back against the stiff pillows. She picked up her phone from the bedside table. The screen was blank. No missed calls. No texts from Julian. She let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh.

Miles away, inside the towering glass headquarters of Harrison Holdings, Julian sat behind his massive desk. His assistant, Ryan Foster, knocked twice and stepped into the office.

Ryan placed a photocopied medical billing statement on the polished wood. "Sir, a contact at New York General Hospital just tipped us off. The head nurse from the OB-GYN emergency bay recognized your wife when she used her old pre-marriage insurance card, and immediately sent a discreet message to our crisis management team."

A dark, violent storm gathered in Julian's eyes. The muscle in his jaw ticked rapidly.

He stood up so fast his heavy leather chair rolled back and hit the wall. He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and stormed out of the office.

Julian took the private elevator straight down to the underground garage. He got into the back of his Maybach.

"New York General, now," Julian barked at the driver.

The Maybach wove aggressively through the Manhattan morning traffic. Julian sat in the back, his fingers tugging violently at the knot of his silk tie. His chest tightened with fury. He was absolutely certain this was Evelyn's desperate, calculated scheme to fight for his assets.

The car jerked to a halt in front of the hospital. Julian shoved the door open. He walked through the automatic doors, radiating a freezing, untouchable anger.

Inside the hospital room, Evelyn held a plastic cup of warm water. Her left hand rested gently on her flat stomach. Her eyes were soft, focused on the future.

The heavy wooden door of her room was suddenly shoved open with massive force. The doorknob slammed into the drywall with a loud crack.

Evelyn flinched. The water in her cup sloshed over the rim, spilling onto the white hospital blanket.

Julian's massive frame filled the doorway. He stepped inside and reached behind him, locking the door with a sharp click. He walked slowly toward the bed, his eyes dark and lethal.

He stopped at the edge of the mattress. His gaze snapped to the medical chart hanging at the foot of the bed. He ripped the clipboard off the plastic hook.

Julian's eyes scanned the diagnosis: Twin pregnancy. Threatened miscarriage.

A cruel, razor-sharp smirk twisted his lips. He threw the heavy clipboard onto Evelyn's legs.

"What kind of sick game are you playing?" Julian's voice was like crushed ice.

Evelyn took a deep breath. She looked straight into his furious eyes. "I am pregnant. It is a fact. And I don't need you to take responsibility for it."

Julian placed both hands flat on the edge of her bed and leaned in close. His face was inches from hers.

"You think a baby will secure your place as Mrs. Harrison?" he sneered, his breath hitting her face. "You think you can trap me?"

He straightened up. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a leather checkbook. He clicked a pen, scribbled a string of zeros, and ripped the check from the binding.

He threw the paper directly at her face.

"Get rid of it today," Julian commanded. "Take the money and get out of my sight."

The crisp piece of paper fluttered down and landed on Evelyn's collarbone. A wave of pure, suffocating humiliation washed over her. Her blood boiled, heating her skin.

Evelyn picked up the check. She held it up right in front of Julian's face. With a swift, violent motion, she tore the paper in half. Then she stacked the halves and tore them again.

She threw her hands up, letting the torn pieces rain down. The confetti of the check landed on Julian's expensive Italian leather shoes.

Evelyn tilted her chin up. Her eyes burned with absolute defiance. "These babies are mine. I will never terminate this pregnancy."

The veins on Julian's forehead bulged. His hands curled into tight fists. "Do not test my limits, Evelyn."

He looked down at her with absolute disgust. "The Harrison family will never acknowledge blood born from manipulation. You won't get a single cent from me."

Julian turned on his heel. He marched out of the room. His heavy footsteps echoed like gunshots against the linoleum floor.

The door slammed shut again.

The tension holding Evelyn's spine straight snapped. She slumped back against the pillows, totally drained.

She wrapped both arms tightly around her stomach. She closed her eyes, her nails digging into the hospital gown. She swore to herself, right then and there, that she would protect these two lives no matter the cost.

Evelyn pressed the red call button taped to the bedrail.

A nurse hurried in. Evelyn held out her hand. "Take the IV out."

The nurse looked at Evelyn's pale face with deep concern. "Mrs. Harrison, Dr. Matthews strongly advised at least another twenty-four hours of observation."

Evelyn shook her head. "Take it out." She knew this room was no longer safe. Julian could send his people to force a medical intervention at any second.

The nurse sighed and carefully removed the needle. Evelyn pressed a cotton ball to the puncture mark. She put her trench coat back on over her clothes and walked to the nurses' station to sign the Against Medical Advice discharge forms.

Evelyn walked out of the hospital doors. The midday sun hit her face, forcing her to squint.

She hailed another cab and gave the driver the address to the Manhattan penthouse. She needed to pack her things and leave before Julian locked her out completely.

The cab stopped in front of the luxury high-rise. The doorman saw her approaching. His eyes darted away nervously, but he still reached out and pulled the heavy glass door open for her.

Evelyn pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner in the private elevator. The car shot upward smoothly. Inside, her chest felt hollow, her emotions completely flat.

The doors opened on the top floor. Evelyn stepped out and pushed open the massive double walnut doors of the penthouse.

Standing in the center of the living room was a woman in a sharp, tailored skirt suit. Her face was a mask of cold professionalism. It was Camila Shaw, Julian's ruthless personal lawyer and fixer, the woman who handled all of his most brutal private affairs.

Camila held an iPad. She was pointing and giving orders to two massive bodyguards who were taking photos of the artwork and furniture.

Camila turned and saw Evelyn. She didn't offer a greeting. "Julian has ordered the immediate execution of the prenuptial agreement," Camila said, her tone entirely robotic.

Evelyn gave her a freezing look. She didn't say a word. She walked straight past Camila and headed into the master bedroom.

She went to the back of the massive walk-in closet. She dragged out an old, scuffed suitcase from the bottom shelf. It was the same one she had brought with her three years ago.

Evelyn started pulling cheap knit sweaters and faded jeans off the velvet hangers. These were clothes she had bought with her own savings before the marriage.

Camila followed her into the closet like a shadow. Her sharp eyes watched Evelyn's every move.

Evelyn reached toward the vanity table to grab a wooden jewelry box. Camila stepped forward and physically blocked her path.

"According to clause three of the prenuptial agreement," Camila stated coldly, "all jewelry gifted by the husband during the marriage remains the property of the Harrison estate."

Evelyn took a deep breath. She reached around Camila, popped the latch on the box, and dumped the diamond necklaces Julian had given her onto the glass table. She reached into the empty felt bottom and pulled out a single, tarnished silver chain.

It was her late mother's necklace. Camila glanced at the cheap metal and took a half-step back in disgust.

Evelyn shoved the necklace into her pocket. She walked out of the closet and into the study. She opened the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a thick, black hardcover notebook.

This notebook contained three years of secret research and development formulas for Aura Beauty. It was her real lifeline.

Just then, Camila's cell phone rang. Camila answered it and deliberately tapped the speakerphone button.

Julian's voice, cold and sharp, echoed in the quiet study. "Have you thrown that greedy woman out yet?"

Evelyn's hands froze on the zipper of her suitcase. Her knuckles turned white.

"If she insists on having those bastards," Julian's voice continued through the speaker, dripping with venom, "tell her she'll be raising them in a gutter. The Harrison family will never acknowledge them, and I'll make sure no one in this city ever helps her."

A violent surge of pure hatred ignited in Evelyn's chest. She yanked the zipper of the suitcase closed with a loud, aggressive rip.

She marched right up to Camila. She leaned toward the phone in Camila's hand.

"In his dreams," Evelyn said, her voice dripping with absolute disgust.

Evelyn grabbed the handle of her suitcase. She turned her back on the study and walked toward the front door, not looking back once.

Camila ended the call. She gave a quick nod to the bodyguards standing by the entrance.

The two massive men stepped sideways, completely blocking the front door.