Evan walks down the hallway to his study. His phone beeps, and he sees that Robert has posted on a popular advice website. Evan reads the question: When your wife is angry at you, what do you do to make her feel better? He rolls his eyes and laughs bitterly.

Within a few minutes, a servant knocks, carrying a stack of printed papers. Evan glances down and sees that they're answers from the advice website. He pours himself a whiskey and leans back in his leather chair. It couldn't hurt to read the advice, Evan thinks. Before Avery, I never had to ask a woman for forgiveness. Every woman tripped over herself to earn my favor—I could do whatever and say whatever, and they'd still flirt with me.

Evan reads the first piece of paper: Husbands and wives always quarrel, but they'll eventually make peace. You don't need to apologize to your wife—the more you apologize, the angrier she'll get. Just give her time to calm down, and things will soon return to normal.

Evan crumples the paper into a ball and tosses it across the room to the trash can. That can't be right, Evan thinks. Avery is a passionate woman, and there's no way she'll just calm down and make peace with me. This man's wife sounds passionless, and his marriage sounds boring. There has to be better advice.

The next piece of advice seems to come from a woman: If my husband buys me a designer handbag, I'll forgive him for anything. Evan crushes the paper and sends it flying across the room. That's useless, he thinks. Avery doesn't care about jewelry and clothes, and bags. I could buy her every designer handbag in the world, and it wouldn't mean a thing to her.

Evan reads the next answer: My wife loves to make love in every imaginable position. When she gets mad, I fuck her until she forgives me." H groans and throws that paper into the trashcan. Making love with Avery is impossible right now, Evan thinks. Besides, she'd refuse any effort I made to seduce her.

Feeling frustrated and hopeless, Evan reaches for another paper and reads: It depends on what happened. Some bad things can only fade away with time, and I have to give my wife time to forget her anger and move on. Evan tosses the entire stack of papers onto the floor.

He swallows the whiskey and leans back in the chair to think. What does Avery like? He thinks. What can I do to show her just how sorry I am? He drinks and drinks until the bottle is half empty, but he can't think of anything. Finally, he rushes into the garden and screams for some servants to come to help him.

Slowly, they inflate a bouquet of balloons. Evan writes, "Please forgive me" on a piece of paper and ties it to the long ribbon. He waves his hand, and the servants unroll the ribbon, so the balloons drift over to Avery's window. Evan waits on the lawn below, hoping she'll look out the window and see the floating balloons.

The servants huddle under the balloons and whisper to each other. Normally, Evan would tell them to shut up, but he's curious to hear what they have to say. He knows that sometimes servants have the best information.

"I didn't know that Mr. Howel did something wrong, and I'm really confused," one of the male servants says. "Why is he apologizing to Mrs. Howel? He was always so cold to her before—he didn't care what he did. Why has he changed?"

"It's because he really cares about Mrs. Howel," one of the older maids says. "I've been working for the family for years, and I've never seen Mr. Howel care so much about anyone."

"I think I'd forgive my husband anything if he made an apology like that," says one of the younger maids.

Another young maid giggles, "If my husband were Mr. Howel, I would forgive him even if he never apologized at all."

The male servant snorts with disgust and says, "Mr. Howel should be able to do whatever he wants—if a man like him can't live his life without begging for forgiveness, there's no hope for the rest of us."

Avery tosses restlessly in the bed. She's been thinking about Andrew's offer for hours and her headaches. A servant barges into the room, carrying a green parrot on his shoulder. The bird ruffled its feathers and shuffles from side to side.

"Sorry," the parrot squawks. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry."

The servant puts the bird on the windowsill, and Avery turns to look at it. She sees a huge bouquet of multicolored balloons. The bouquet is so big it seems to block the sunlight. A paper dangles from the bottom of the bouquet, and Avery leans out the window to grab it. She reads it, crumples it up, and tosses it out the open window.

"Don't you like it?" the servant asks.

"I don't like it at all," Avery says. "The bird is noisy, and the balloons are blocking all the light. Get rid of them."

The servant nods and grabs the bird before racing out of the room. Avery throws herself down on the bed and leans heavily against the pillow. She checks her phone and sees a message telling her that Bryan is in the hospital. She closes her eyes and rubs her aching temples. Leonie leans on her mother's arm as they walked toward the back of the house. They walk out the back door and cross the dark lawn to the shack in the woods. The last time Leonie was out there, Avery was being punished by Mrs. Howel. I can't believe how quickly everything has changed; Leonie thinks bitterly.

"Mom, which servants did you send to follow Mr. Clifford and Avery?" Leonie asks. "They completely failed. They didn't get a single usable picture—and if I can't show Evan a picture of his precious Avery fucking Andrew, I don't stand a chance!"

"It's not easy to follow Mr. Clifford, dear," Fiona says. "The servants lost him quickly. But you're right, it's all my fault, and I'll do better in the future.

"That's not good enough, Mom," Leonie says.

She stumbles and stubs her toe hard on a rock. She jumps up onto one foot and screams out in pain and anger. Fiona grabs her arm tighter to steady her, and Leonie wants to push her mother away.

"You should be more careful, dear," Fiona says. "Mrs. Florence Howel has generously let you stay in the house, and she seems truly concerned about your baby too. You need to stop worrying about Avery and use this opportunity to worry about yourself."

"I can't stop worrying about her," Leonie hisses. "My baby gets bigger and stronger every single day. If I can't get rid of Avery, I'll never have a chance at marrying Evan. Do you really want to have a bastard as your grandchild?"

"Of course, I don't," Fiona says in a soothing voice. "But you need to be careful. Go step by step, and try to avoid causing drama."

Leonie stops outside the shack. Though the walls are thick, she can hear the hissing sound of a whip and the loud snapping as it hits its target. She can also hear muffled groans. She pushes the door open, startling the bodyguards with the whips. They pause and then begin to beat their victim even harder. The man they're whipping hangs from an iron chain on the ceiling. His clothes are torn and ragged, and fresh blood drips down his scarred back.

"Stop," Leonie shouts. "Has he admitted his guilt yet?"

The man hanging from the ceiling goes limp, and his head falls forward. His eyes are swollen and bruised, and his jaw looks like it might be broken. Leonie wonders if he's passed out from the pain.

"No, he insists that he was with Mrs. Summers that day," one of the guards says.

"You think you're such a tough guy," Leonie says to the man. "Did Avery fuck you? Are you in love with her? Is that why you're refusing to admit that you helped her?"

"I never did anything for Avery," the man says.

Leonie raises her hand and smacks the man's filthy face. His head jerks to the side, and she smiles with satisfaction. Suddenly, the man begins to laugh. He throws his head back and laughs harder and harder. The sound makes Leonie's blood run cold.

"You're just a common bitch," the man says, laughing. "You think you can come in here and slap me around like you're better than me. You really have no idea."

"Shut up," Leonie shouts, as goosebumps prickle her arms. "I mean it—stop laughing! Just admit that you helped her, or I swear to God, I'll have you killed."

"Leonie, control yourself," Fiona whispers nervously. "Let the servants deal with him. We should go back to the house."

The man continues to laugh and says, "If you kill me, your baby won't have a father."

Leonie grabs a whip and begins to beat the man's back and legs as hard as she can. After just a few hits, she feels sweaty and exhausted, but the man is still laughing.

"I didn't know you liked it so rough," he says. "I'll keep this in mind next time I fuck you."

"Kill him," Leonie screams.

Her head feels like it's going to explode with rage, and she feels her mom's arms grabbed her and pulled her outside. The cold night breeze tangles her hair, and she hears the sound of gunshots from the shack.