Andrew walks over and reaches out for Avery's forehead. "What's wrong?" Andrew asks, "You look pale."

"Don't touch me!" she snaps, slapping his hand away.

"I'm asking you if you're feeling alright," Andrew says defensively.

Avery shakes her head. If Andrew was indeed talking about Charles on the phone, she doesn't know how she'll live with the pain. Even now, she finds it hard to breathe, thinking about the search for his body.

She doesn't want to stay in the same room as Andrew for another minute. His presence disgusts and enrages her. "I'm frazzled from the ride," she lies. "I want to go to my room."

The curtains in Evan's study are pulled across the windows, blocking all sunlight from entering the room. Avery's recording plays on an endless loop in the dark space. While Robert manages the search, Evan remains shut in his study.

Evan wants to memorize the way she talks—sometimes proud and sometimes desperate. Her every sigh breaks his heart. He knows he should stop, but he listens to it over and over again like it's an addiction. Her voice seems to be the only cure for unbearable pain.

"If you hear this recording, and if you believe me, please find me," her voice says for the thousandth time. "The baby is ours. I want to have it."

Leonie stands outside the door to the study holding a tea tray. She feels her blood run cold when she hears Avery's voice. The child really is Evan's, she thinks, And I just heard some bodyguards say that they're conducting a massive search for her. I put up with her for so long, but now she's finally gone, and it's my chance to win Evan. She can't come back! I won't tolerate it.

The tray shakes in her hands as she tries to control her rage. She assumed that Evan would gradually forget about Avery after she left. She was planning on staying in his company and consoling him until he fell for her instead. If Avery comes back, everything is ruined.

Leonie thinks quickly and makes a decision. She steadies the tray in her hands and walks back to the kitchen. She takes her phone out of her pocket and sends a hasty message.

Michelle is putting the confectioner's sugar in the pot. She pours hot water on top and stirred to dissolve the sugar and then adds pudding powder to the mix. With a hasty glance over her shoulder, she reaches into her pocket and shakes a small vial of white powder into the pot.

"What did you just add to that?" Ruby asks from behind Michelle.

Michelle is so frightened she drops the spoon. She takes a deep breath before turning around to face Ruby. She smiles innocently, "Oh, this? It's just sugar, water, and pudding powder for now. Don't you know how to make crème pudding?"

"I saw you put something else," Ruby whispers.

Suddenly the door bursts open, and Andrew's other mistresses file into the kitchen, complaining amongst themselves.

"Why is this bitch still here?" one of the women asked, curling her lip at Michelle. "She intentionally drove a wedge between us. She said she wasn't a threat to us, but she went out of her way to seduce Andrew. Apparently, getting publicly fucked by his bodyguards wasn't punishment enough."

Another woman sneers at Michelle, "Maybe she liked it. She definitely didn't learn her lesson. She just made Andrew tiramisu for his afternoon tea—he never lets any of us make him anything."

Michelle clenches her fist and grits her teeth. She can feel her face flushing, "I dare you to say one mo—"

Ruby interrupts her, "Shut up, Michelle. We don't have time to argue with a slut like you."

"You think I'm a slut? Well, it takes one to know one," Michelle snaps. "You're all pathetic. You think you're such victims, but you're too stupid to do anything but whine about your lives. Andrew ate something I made because it was delicious. If you took the time to learn how to cook instead of just skulking around the house, maybe he'd be more attracted to you."

The women gape at her, and Michelle immediately regrets her speech. She doesn't have time to get involved in more drama with the other women.

"Fine, we'll all cook," Ruby says. "Cooking isn't that hard, and it doesn't take any special talent. You think you're special, but you're not. We'll each make a dish and let Andrew select which he likes best."

Michelle looks at the women staring each other down with animalistic ferocity, and she has the urge to hide all the knives in the kitchen.

By the time Avery finishes her shower, a maid is knocking on her door to ask her to come down to dinner. Avery dresses slowly in a white cotton dress and descends the stairs from her third-floor bedroom. On the second floor, she sees a maid standing outside Andrew's door, informing him that dinner is ready. Andrew opens the door, whispers something to the maid, and then closes it again.

"Mr. Clifford asks you to go down first," the maid says upon seeing Avery. "He'll be joining you shortly."

Avery nods and continues descending the stairs. As she approaches the dining room, she's greeted by the pleasant smell of food. A diverse array of dishes from almost every country in the world lines the table. There are also plates and plates of different desserts. The dining room table is practically groaning under all the food.

Andrew's mistresses are already standing at the table. Each woman occupies her own section. When they hear footsteps, they look up expectantly, but the light in their eyes dies when they see it's just Avery. Avery knows they're expecting Andrew, and she fights the urge to smile.

The maids pull out a chair, and Avery sits down. She looks at the eight women and sees that each is standing next to a distinct type of cuisine. She sees a streak of flour on Ruby's forehead, and grease stains on another woman's silk top. It looks like each of the women has actually prepared the food she's standing next to.

"What are you waiting for?" Avery asks. "Aren't you going to eat?" She turns around and looks at the stairs. Andrew still hasn't come down, and she wonders if the women will wait until he arrives.

Ruby smiles flatteringly at Avery and sits next to her. "Miss Peters, you know Andrew quite well," Ruby says. "You must know his favorite food."

"I don't," Avery says, leaning away from Ruby.

"His health is a serious concern, of course," Ruby says. "We each made a nutritious entree and dessert for him, but we can't be sure he'll enjoy them. How about you try them first as a precaution?"

Avery frowns. Ruby's perfume is overpowering, and it clashes horribly with the smell of the food. Her stomach is still sensitive from the pregnancy, and she fights the urge to gag.

"How about tasting something Michelle made?" Ruby suggests, sliding the crème pudding in front of Avery. "She spent the longest time in the kitchen. She really gave her dishes the most."

"Why should she try mine first?" Michelle objects.

Ruby smiles charmingly, "Well, because it's crème pudding, of course. That's her favorite."

Avery shakes her head and scoots her chair away from Ruby. She doesn't understand Ruby's motivations, but the woman's behavior is creepy.

Ruby grabs a spoon, scoops up a large bite of pudding, and passes it to Avery. "Taste it," she insists.

"It's dessert," Avery says, refusing to take the spoon. "I don't want to spoil my meal by tasting it now."

"I only want to you taste it," Ruby says, slowly standing.

"Leave me alone!" Avery shouts. She tries to stand and leave, but someone holds her shoulder and forces her down in the chair. She opens her mouth to shout for help, but Ruby is faster. She shoves the spoon into Avery's mouth, and Avery feels the cold metal spoon scrape her throat.