"Is there a problem with your new phone?" Evan asks suspiciously, "Or do you have some secret information on your other phone? Perhaps you're conducting secret affairs?"

Avery freezes in the middle of unlocking her phone. Evan is so suspicious—even the slightest thing can set him off.

"I got used to my old phone," Avery replies with a casual shrug, "And some of the phone numbers weren't properly copied onto the new one."

"How many candid photos have you taken?" Evan asks.

He dips his long fingers into the water and playfully flicks some onto her face. Avery stares at him angrily.

"Just a few," she answers with irritation.

"How many?" he asks again.

He knows exactly how many photos she's taken, but he wants to know if she'll tell him the truth. Everything she does on her phone is copied and sent to his via iCloud. Every single photo she takes appears on his phone almost instantly. Besides this function, of course, there are some functions she doesn't know about that allow him to track her. He wants her to continue using the couple's phone, so he's hesitant to return her old phone to her.

In the past few days, he's had his team of tech experts try to retrofit her old phone with new functions to monitor her. Unfortunately, much of the technology is too advanced for the cheap, old mobile.

"A couple," Avery answers vaguely, "Anyway, I'll take the 72 photos as agreed so you can return my phone to me."

Evan grimaces but remains silent.

"A couple? She's such a liar," he thinks, "She hasn't taken a single photo yet."

He closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of her fingers in his hair. It's not enough for Avery to give him devil horns; she smooths his hair back down and makes a poop-shaped hairstyle. She snapped the first candid photo.

"God it's really unfair," she thinks, "Even with an absurdly hideous hairstyle, the man looks attractive."

There are bubbles on his cheeks and his skin is smooth and soft in the close-up photo. His eyes are closed and his long and curly eyelashes could make any woman jealous.

"Did you take the picture?" he asks.

He reaches out to take her phone, but she hides it behind her back, "I'll show you when I'm done!"

Evan allows his hand to drop back into the water and he quickly grabs her waist. Avery throws the phone on to the stool with the bathrobes. She's confused about why Evan didn't insist on seeing the photo—she has no idea that it's been automatically sent to Evan's phone.

Evan looks down at his hand and realizes he's holding the injured part of her waist. The slim curve is slightly swollen and feels warm beneath his palm. He wonders if he's hurting her and he marvels at the strength and stubbornness that keeps her from crying out or even flinching. Suddenly he stands up and pulls her up with him. He begins to take her clothes off

"What are you doing?" she demands.

He continues to remove her clothing in silence. The wet fabric clings to her body and he peels it off inch by inch.

"Have you ever seen anyone bathe in clothes?" he asks mildly.

Then he pulls her under the shower-head and slowly soaps her body. When he's finished he dries her with a plush towel and wraps her in the dry bathrobe. He sweeps her up in his arms and carries her into the bedroom.

"Don't move," he commands, "I'll apply the salve for you."

He applies the salve with gentle hands, helps her dress and then carries her downstairs. The smell of the salve lingers around her and he sighs quietly.

Mrs. Florence Howel's anxious voice carries through the hall from her private sitting room, "Gently!"

She despises the maid who is clumsily applying a healing ointment to Leonie's back and she's tempted to grab the balm and do it herself.

"Mrs. Howel, I'm alright. It doesn't really hurt," Leonie says.

She bites her lower lip and makes a pained expression that pierces Mrs. Howel to her heart. When Leonie was a little girl, she often accompanied Mrs. Howel to events. Mr. Francis Howel was often busy and Evan had his own business to attend to. As a result, Mrs. Howel came to see Leonie as a granddaughter. She expected her to marry Evan and was heartbroken when Mr. Howel chose Avery.

Mrs. Howel feels helpless watching Leonie suffer, and she's not used to feeling helpless.

"You're brave child, but I know it hurts," Mrs. Howel says, "If your parents only knew what had happened, they'd be distraught. I should have taken better care of you."

"Mrs. Howel, it's not your fault or even Evan's," Leonie replies, "It's my fault that I didn't look for Avery more carefully. If I had been more careful, this whole misunderstanding never would have happened."

Mrs. Howel sighs, "If Evan knew your kindness, he would certainly regret not choosing you."

"Mrs. Howel, don't say that. It's all over."

Mrs. Florence Howel sighs. The maid finishes applying ointment to Leonie's back and Mrs. Howel shoos her away and helps Leonie put her dress on.

"Try to keep your back away from water," Mrs. Howel advises, "It will heal faster if you keep it dry."

"Thank you, Mrs. Howel."

"You're so polite to me, my poor child."

Leonie lies down on the sofa, turns her head toward Mrs. Howel and makes a pained face, "Mrs. Howel, it's late. You'd better go to sleep. I'm alright."

Dr. Walter puts a bottle of painkillers on the tea table and advises Mrs. Howel to go to sleep.

"Don't worry," he says, "Leonie has a strong constitution and she'll recover soon."

Mrs. Howel reluctantly leaves the room. As soon as the door closes behind her, Leonie's expression changes. Her pained grimaces and innocent smiles disappear and her eyes gleam with hatred. She takes out her mobile phone and pulls up a picture of a slender white hand wearing a pink diamond ring. She sends the photo to one of her Facebook friends and quickly types the message: I want the same ring.

The next morning Avery wakes in a daze and finds that she's in a strange room. She gradually recalls that she slept in Evan's room again. She turns her head and sees that Evan had already gotten up. Lucky runs into the room and quickly springs to the bed when he sees that Avery is awake.

"Lucky!" Avery scolds.

Lucky's front paws are on the quilt and he rubs his head on Avery's arms.

"Lucky, do you know that you're breaking the family rules?" Avery asks.

Everyone in the Howel family hates her. Mrs. Florence Howel thinks she's not good enough for Evan and Mr. Francis Howel regards her as a tool for procreation—now that she may be barren, his attitude toward her has cooled. Evan only tolerates her now because he's using her as a pawn in some contest with his grandfather.

Only Lucky likes her, and to the best of her knowledge, he's only just met her. She can't remember exactly, but she thinks she avoided the back parlor due to her fear of dogs. She never imagined that the dog would turn out to be even more clingy and possessive than her husband. She sighs. She knows she'll be leaving the Howel family soon and she doesn't want to be too affectionate with the dog. She doesn't want him to become more attached to her.

"It's time to get up," Avery says to the dog.

She gently strokes Lucky's furry head. Lucky's black fur smells good because a team of groomers bathes him every day. Instead of getting off the bed, Lucky hops up and places his feet on Avery's stomach, preventing her from getting up.

The telephone on the bedside table lights up and begins to buzz. Avery answers it.

"Charles?"

"Avery, have you gotten up?" Charles asks.

"Yes," she replies, "How's your throat?"

"It's better after the medicine, thanks," Charles says, "Anyway, I have some good news for you and some okay news."