Dean Lawrence Meyer stands in his office near the window. He opens the curtain and watches the long line of cars drive away from the hospital. His temple still hurts from having the muzzle of the gun pressed into his forehead.

His father and Evan's grandfather agreed that the two families should always exist in harmony, but if Evan catches Charles, the rules will no longer apply. Lawrence knows that Evan will do whatever he wants to Charles, and he'll be powerless to protect his son.

Lawrence throws a stack of files across the desk. His son stands on the other side of the desk. Charles is wearing a white coat and leaning languorously against the desk. He doesn't make a move to avoid the files. Instead, he straightens up and casually puts his hands in his pockets. The papers hit him squarely in the chest.

"What were you thinking?" Lawrence fumes, "If Mrs. Howel hadn't eaten eggs for breakfast, the results would have revealed your lie. Our entire family and our business would have gone down because of you!"

"She ate eggs for breakfast?" Charles says, "What a clever woman!"

"Is that the point?" Lawrence asks.

He can't believe his son has let him down this way. He grabs another stack of files and hits Charles over the head.

"Are you interested in her?" he demands.

Charles tries to duck but the files slam into his head anyway, "No."

"No?" Lawrence asks incredulously.

He doesn't believe his son. If Charles wasn't interested in Avery, he'd never do something as stupid as lying to Evan Howel. If word gets out that Charles tried to seduce one of his patients' wives, the entire hospital will be ruined. The rich and powerful families will never set foot in St. Meyer again.

"Tell me, Charles, why was Avery wearing your grandmother's ring?" he asks.

"So what if she was?" Charles says.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Lawrence says, enraged, "That's a family heirloom and its meant for your future wife. Get it back! I won't have our family jewel worn by some other man's wife."

Charles recalls the joy and satisfaction he felt when he saw the ring on Avery's finger.

"She's the only woman in the world who deserves that ring," he thinks.

Lawrence reaches for another stack of files but sees he's already thrown them all at his son. In a fit of rage, he tries to pick up the heavy wooden chair to fling at Charles, but it is too heavy for him to pick up and he strains his back.

"Ouch, my back," he moans.

"Father, are you alright?"

Charles hurries to help his father, but Lawrence pushes him away.

"Go away, I don't want your help. I won't recognize you as my son if I continue to do this," he warns, "There's no room in our family for a man who has anything to do with another man's wife."

"It's not like that," Charles objects, "Avery will eventually divorce Evan. All I have to do is wait."

"How are you so sure she'll divorce him? There's something between them that you're too foolish to see," Lawrence says, "No, I can't have that. I'll arrange to have you set up with some other women tomorrow."

"I won't go to any of the dates. I only want Avery," Charles says firmly, "If you can't accept her, I'll take her away from here. I've decided to run the company I inherited from grandfather to support us."

Charles has thought things through in his typical methodical way. He knows that it will be difficult to contend with Evan. He can't ever hope to rival the Howels' wealth, but he knows he can't expect to support a woman like Avery with his income from the family hospital. He has decided to start running the company as his grandfather wishes.

"What? You think you're so smart that you don't have to listen to me?" Lawrence says, "If you keep behaving like this, I won't be there to fix things for you when they go wrong. And believe me, they will go wrong."

Lawrence is a practical man. He followed the traditional family path and became a doctor and married a nice woman his parents approved of. Every step in his life was carefully chosen to avoid any surprises. Unlike Lawrence, Charles is tired of a carefully regulated life. He wants to fight for the woman he loves.

The black Ferrari stops in front of the glowing manor. The bright house makes a shining contrast against the pitch-black grounds. The maids and servants were warned that Evan was heading home, and they have formed a neat line in front of the door to greet him.

Robert opens the car door for Evan, "Sir, the quiche is heated and ready."

Avery is getting out of the car, but she hears Robert's words.

"Last night he wanted to eat my pasta and now he's about to eat the quiche I made," she thinks, "They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but is he falling for me because of something I've cooked?"

The thought horrifies Avery. She knows she has a natural talent for cooking, but she's nothing compared to the Michelin-starred chefs who work in the kitchen. She hopes that Evan is simply bored of the chefs' cooking and enjoying the novelty of new food.

Robert closes the car door behind Evan, "The staff says that Lucky isn't feeling well. He's not eating his food."

Evan freezes, "Have they called the vet yet?"

"Yes. But he won't let the vet examine him, anytime he gets close Lucky bites him."

Evan thinks about the problem. Unsure about how to proceed with Robert gulps.

"How about I ask the staff to delay dinner so you can check on Lucky?" Robert suggests nervously.

Though Lucky is a dog, he's treated better than most of the staff at the Howel mansion. Everyone knows that Evan cares for the dog, and Robert assumes that Evan will want to take care of him first. He's surprised by Evan's answer:

"It's fine. Leave him for now," Evan says curtly.

A few maids stand on either side of the dining room table. The table has been set with two pieces of steaming quiche filled with fresh seafood and vegetables. The triangle wedges are beautifully colored, and they smell good. Though Avery cooked them in the morning, they still look fresh and tasty.

The maids pull out the chairs for Evan and Avery and move to serve the food. Evan gives them an icy look that stops them in their tracks. Instead, they push the plates in front of Avery.

"Please, Mrs. Howel, can you cut the quiche for Mr. Howel?"

Avery halts with her fork raised in mid-air.

"Don't you have hands to do that?" she asks him sarcastically.

He smirks and stares at her as if she's an interesting puzzle. Avery tries to hide her irritation, picks up a knife, and smiles at her husband.

"Mr. Howel, would you like me to add some green salad to your plate?" she asks.

Evan continues to stare at her. His eyes look hungry, but he's gazing at her as if she's the delicacy.

"Yes, please," he says politely.

Avery remains calm. She cuts a large piece of quiche and raises the fork to Evan's mouth. The quiche is freshly heated from the pan, and steam comes off it.

Evan frowns abruptly, "Are you poisoning your husband?"

"I didn't think I was such a bad cook as that," she said lightly, "But rest assured, they say a good man lives too short and a bad one too long—so you have plenty of time to enjoy life."

"What a sweet talker are you," he says ironically.

"Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment," she responds.

"But I like the quiche," he adds.

"Then have some more."

She stabs pieces of quiche and feeds them to Evan.

"I think our child might have digestion problems if you keep feeding me like this," he jokes.

"We don't have any children, and we won't have any."

"We will soon," he says.