Avery cries until her eyes burn, and her throat aches. Her entire body feels heavy and broken, but she slowly climbs to her feet. She smooths the quilt over Charles and gently squeezes his cold hand. She blinks, and for a moment, his face transforms: it's warm and full of life again, and he smiles his soft smile. Then she wipes her eyes and sees him pale and thin and half-dead.

"Will he stay here until—until," Avery can't finish the question.

"Until he dies?" Andrew asks. "No, the Meyer family will pick him up and move him to one of their own care facilities."

"Good—his own family, should take care of him," Avery says. "When are they coming for him?"

"Soon," Andrew replies.

Avery nods. She wants Charles to be cared for by people who love him, but she's scared of the consequences. The Meyer family will surely find out what happened to Charles and who did it. They don't have the power to fight the Howel's, but Charles' godfather, Mr. Oliver, is another story.

She bites her lip and rubbed her temples. Evan deserves to suffer for what he did to Charles, she thinks. It makes me sick to my stomach that he did this. But at the same time, I can't bear to see anything happen to Evan. What's wrong with me?

High-heeled shoes click down the hallway, and Avery looks nervously toward the door. Charles' mother rushes in, looking tired but elegant. Her hair is twisted into an elegant bun, and she's wearing a neat gray suit. Avery steps away from the bed, but Mrs. Meyer doesn't seem to see her.

"Charles?" Mrs. Meyer asks shakily, grabbing his hand.

Her voice is quivering, and there are dark circles beneath her wet eyes. Suddenly, she lifts her head and sees Avery. Her expression turns fierce and cold.

"What are you still doing here?" she asks. "Haven't you already hurt Charles enough?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Meyer," Avery whispers. "I shouldn't be here."

"I don't give a damn about the broken ring," Mrs. Meyer snaps, "At the end of the day, it's just a stone, and I was willing to overlook it because I know how deeply my son loves you. But now you've gone and broken him, and I will never be able to forgive that."

"I'm sorry," Avery whispers again, wishing the words could explain just how awful she feels.

"Your apologies won't bring my son back to me," Mrs. Meyer shouts. "Get out of here! I don't ever want to see you again!"

"You'd better be polite, Mrs. Meyer," Andrew says. "Avery only just learned about Charles now."

"Mr. Clifford, I don't know how or why you're involved with Charles, and I don't even want to imagine what you're doing here with Avery," Mrs. Meyer says. "But I think you need to start minding your own business." Mrs. Meyer turns toward the door and shouts, "Jackson, come get them out of here!"

"Let's go," Andrew says, putting his palm on Avery's lower back.

For once, Avery doesn't resist his touch. She's exhausted and weak, and she doesn't want to deal with Jackson. As she crosses out of the room, she took one last look at Charles, wondering if this will be the last time she ever sees him. Outside of the nursing home, the rain falls down in sheets. Andrew quickly opens an umbrella and holds it protectively over her.

"I know it's pointless to ask, but is there any way you'd give Charles his heart back?" Avery asks.

Andrew sighs deeply, and Avery sees his knuckles whitened on the umbrella's handle. Avery listens to the rain beating down violently on the umbrella and tries to avoid the deepest puddles as they walk to the car.

Finally, Andrew asks, "You want me to give the heart back to Charles?"

"Well, it belongs to him," Avery says.

"What about me?" Andrew asks. "Don't you care about what will happen to me?"

Avery wants to slap him. His selfishness makes her feel sick. He genuinely doesn't care that he's killing Charles, Avery thinks. He just wants to continue to live his playboy life—hurting whoever gets in his way. She bites her tongue to keep herself from yelling at him.

"I want you to marry me," Andrew suddenly says.

Avery stares at him in disbelief.

"If you marry me, I'll let Charles have the heart back in a year," Andrew says.

"You're joking," Avery says. "There's no way you'd risk your life just to spend a year with me. Andrew, I know you're scum, but that's a sick trick, even for you."

"I'll give you time to think about it," Andrew says quietly. "Let me know when you've made up your mind."

Evan looks around the aircraft cabin in confusion. He can't remember how he got there, but his entire body aches and something prickles and itches his left arm. He tilts his head to the side and looks for Robert. Instead, he sees an IV wire trailing up from his arm to a plastic bag above his head.

His throat aches, but he shouts, "Robert! What's going on?"

"How much do you remember, sir?" Robert asks.

"Nothing," Evan groans. "I mean, I remember that grandfather locked me in the walk-in freezer, but I don't remember how I got out. And I have no idea where we are."

"Well, sir, your grandfather finally agreed to let you out, but he made you agree to his conditions first," Robert says. "You really don't remember?"

Evan shakes his head, and the movement sets off sparks of pain behind his eyes. He closes his eyes and waits for Robert to continue talking. Robert's silence seems to last an eternity. Evan opens his eyes and glares at the butler.

"You were half-frozen by the time we got you out," Robert says. "The doctor was worried you'd lose some fingers and toes, but he managed to save them. You're very sick, though. We were flying you back to the house, but we were forced to land because of the storm."

"What time is it?" Evan asks. "I have to meet Avery."

Robert clears his throat nervously, "About that—"

"Am I late?" Evan asks. "Quick call her and tell her I'm on my way."

"Sir, your grandfather took our cellphones, and he didn't give them back when we left," Robert says.

"Are you telling me there's no way to get a message out from this jet?" Evan asks.

Robert's face turns red, and he says, "Well, I suppose we could try to radio the manor."

"Do it," Evan says before sinking into a fitful, feverish sleep.

He feels someone tapping on his arm, and he slowly opened his eyes. Robert is leaning over him with a worried expression on his face.

"It seems that Mrs. Howel is away from the manor right now," Robert says, looking down at the floor. "She was seen getting into Mr. Clifford's car, and she hasn't come back since then."

Evan grabs the washcloth from his forehead and throws it across the room. He tries to sit up, but his entire body feels like it's made of lead. He can't even get his shoulders off the emergency bed. He tries until he's sweaty and gasping for breath. Then he squints at a clock on the wall of the cabin, but the numbers blur and flicker.

"What time is it?" Evan asks. "I have to meet Avery—help me change my clothes."

"Hold him down," Robert says to a bodyguard. "He's a danger to himself."

"Get out of my way!" Evan growls.

"Mr. Howel, it's only three o'clock in the afternoon," Robert says. "It's still early."

Evan blinks in confusion. That doesn't make any sense, he thinks. I feel like I've been asleep for ages.

"But—" he begins.

"Sir, you have a severe fever, and you're on an IV," Robert says. "You can't go out right now—it's too dangerous."

"Are you sure it's only 3 o'clock?" Evan asks.

He sees Robert quickly glance at the bodyguards. The men nodded slowly in agreement.

"Yes, Mr. Howel, it's only 3 o'clock in the afternoon," Robert says again.

"But it's dark outside?" Evan says, squinting at the windows. "How can it be 3 o'clock if it's dark out?"