The hour hand on Avery's watchpoints to twelve. There is little traffic on the road at midnight. Everything looks deserted; Avery passes only a handful of cars as she drives. She turns on the radio. Jazz comes out of the speakers at a high volume, echoing into the night. She feels alive and free.

Three Porsches trail her sports car. Probably wealthy men on their way to another nightclub, she thinks. Though the cars are speeding, they intentionally slow down as they pass her. One honks the horn, another man rolls down his window and shouts "Hey, baby, care to join us?"

Avery isn't agitated. She's not going to let these men ruin her rare freedom. Subconsciously, she turns and looks at another car—it's been following her for almost two hours and she knows all too well who sent it. She smiles and turns to the Porsche owners, "Sure, sexy! Why not?"

Avery pulls her car over to the side of the road. She hops out of the driver's seat and gets into one of the Porsches. She gives her keys to the driver's friend and asks him to take her car. The men drive quickly, and they soon lose the slower car filled with Evan's henchmen.

Howel's mansion is eerily quiet. Evan stands in front of a French window, gazing at his desk. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he's still wearing his robe. He's half lost in a medicated haze.

A stack of wrinkled photos lies on his desk. One photo shows Avery placing her hand in Charles' grasp, another shows his hand caressing her forehead, still, another shows his arms wrapped around her waist. Robert enters the room, breathless, distracting Evan from the photos.

"Talk to me!" Evan's deep voice orders.

Robert hurries to obey Evan's command and he jumbles his words, "It's Charles Meyer. He's the doctor of Mrs. Howel's nanny. The man on the phone is him."

He stops talking and observes that Evan is not going to respond.

He continues, "Mr. Meyers' grandfather is your grandfather's private doctor."

"Evan will not be pleased to hear this," Robert thinks, "The Meyers' family's close relationship with Evan's grandfather will make it difficult for Evan to act against Charles."

Evan knows that his grandfather fought side by side in the war with Mr. Meyer. The two shared an incredibly close bond. His grandfather won't tolerate any sort of conflict between the two families, especially not between Evan and Charles.

Evan suddenly turns around and glares at Robert. His eyes are aggressive, harsh, and cold.

"Private doctor?"

"Only Dr. Meyers' medicine can treat your grandfather's angina," Robert explains, "He's giving Mr. Howel enough medication to last for three sessions. He's taking the first treatment now."

Robert wants to ease the tension in the room, "You know, your wife hasn't been to the hospital to visit her nanny for two years. Maybe she snuck out tonight because she misses her."

"Are you sure it's not because she wanted pills?"

"Er..." Robert stutters.

"Take a look at the inventory at the hospital and find out if any supplies are missing," Evan orders.

"Yes, sir."

Instead of rushing away, Robert hesitates. Nervously, he clears his throat, "Sir, the men tailing Avery say they've lost her." As he speaks his voice becomes quieter and quieter, but Evan hears anyway.

"Lost her? What a bunch of useless men! Find her even if you have to tear the whole city apart."

He grabs a photo and tears it from top to bottom. He throws the shreds at Robert, and one slices across his face, causing a paper cut.

Meanwhile, Avery and her suitors arrive at a club. Loud music and cheering fill the air as they enter. A waiter pours a bottle of champagne into a glass. Another waiter arranges a stack of glasses like a tower and pours bottle after bottle of champagne until every glass is full.

Avery takes a glass offered to her by one of her suitors and puts it on the black table. The champagne bubbles and fizzes. A small crowd of men has been following her around the club, enticed by her beauty.

"What? Are you afraid to drink it?" A tall and well-built man grabs her waist, "Rest assured, I didn't dose it. It's completely clean. But perhaps you aren't?"

Avery doesn't care that this man gave her a ride in his car. She raises her hand and throws the champagne in his face.

"I'm not as dirty as your mouth. Let me wash it for you."

"You're the first woman who has ever dared to pour wine on my head," he says, "You're feisty. I like you."

Avery releases her grip, casually letting the glass fall to the floor where it shatters into pieces. Then she stands up and artfully plays with a strand of her blonde hair. The men are attracted by her sexy languor and pride; they can't seem to look away from her. Even the men enjoying lap dances stare at her.

Six men follow her trying to hand her expensive wine and trays of fruit. Thomas, the man Avery threw the wine on, wipes his face casually with some tissues and chases after her.

"I'm just joking," he says winking at her, "How about I take a shower later and you can check to see if I'm clean enough."

Avery ignores him and sits down on a circular sofa. The men compete with each other for a spot next to her.

"Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" one asks.

"No," Avery answers flatly.

Languorously, she leans against the back of the sofa. Even though she refuses their propositions, the men surround her, enchanted by her smile and her beauty. These rich men born with silver spoons in their mouths are good looking. But they can't compete with Evan, she thinks. She only agreed to get into the Porsche to get rid of the men Evan sent to pursue her.

By the time Evan calls, dozens of men have surrounded Avery. Thomas is still trying the hardest to win her.

"Come with me and I'll make sure you spend a night you'll never forget," he promises.

"I'm afraid I'm too much for you," Avery whispers in his ear, "I'm a married woman."

"That's the type I like. I find it…exciting."

"Aren't you afraid of my husband?"

"I've never been afraid of anyone in my life," he boasts, "I'd give your husband the beating of his life if he ever showed up."

"I like you," she murmurs.

"Your phone's ringing," Thomas whispers.

He takes her phone from the table and hands it to her. Avery is smiling at him, but she frowns as soon as she sees the caller's name.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

She can hear the iciness in his deep voice. She's sure he already knows that she's in a club called The Queen's Bed. It's only a matter of time before he arrives.

"Hardly a night of passion," she teases, "Did you finish already? Or did Leonie think you're too small and disappointing? Did she leave your bed laughing?"

"You have three seconds to tell me your whereabouts."

"Wow, three seconds? That fast?" she laughs.

"A-V-E-R-Y!" he pronounces her name slowly, like a threat.

Instead of worrying about the roaring voice on the phone, she turns the call to video mode.

"I'm cheating on you, Evan. Look around and pick a favorite! How about this strong and tall man with a nice body? Or this man who flirts with multiple women at once and boasts about his sexual prowess? Which one should I choose tonight?"

She intimately leans into Thomas and looks at the camera with a bewitching smile. Evan feels something explode in his brain.

"Don't you dare!"

"Mr. Howel, if you don't divorce me immediately, I will cheat on you endlessly," she threatens, "Aren't I considerate to warn you, though?"

"I told you that you'd regret this, Evan," she adds coyly, "But enough talk, I want to go try one of these men now. See you later."

She blows a kiss on the phone and hangs up.

Evan throws his phone in a rage and presses his fingers into his temples. To get a divorce, she's asked the press to Howel's house, arranged to send Leonie to his bed, and now she's cheating on him. How dare this woman challenge his authority over and over again?

Damn it! She was leaning against another man so intimately in the video. It's enough to make his blood boil.