Evan rubs his bloody knuckles and looks out the window at the black helicopter in the air. He watches until it becomes a speck on the horizon, then he turns to glare at Leonie. She's huddled over in a waiting room chair. Her shoulders shake violently, and Florence stands behind her, stroking her long blonde hair.

Slowly, Leonie looks up. Black streaks of mascara drip down her cheeks, and her eyes are red from crying. She looks at Evan with a miserable expression, but she doesn't dare to speak. Evan turns to leave, gesturing for Robert to follow.

"Wait, Evan, it's not what it looks like," Leonie shouts.

Evan pauses in the doorway and says, "Robert, arrange another test. I'm tired of having this conversation with her."

Leonie's entire face lights up. She wipes her tears away and jumps to her feet. For a moment, Evan almost feels bad for her, but his sympathy quickly becomes a relief. She really thinks I'm the father of her baby, he thinks. But the test will prove once and for all it's my bodyguard. Maybe then she'll finally leave me alone.

Leonie runs down the hall to the examination room. Her high heels click loudly on the hard floor. Evan follows her into the examination room. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Leonie taking off her dress. He turns his back to her and stares at the uterus diagram on the wall. I won't give her the satisfaction of looking at her body, he thinks.

There's a loud knock at the door, and the president of the hospital enters the room. Robert walks behind him, pressing his pistol into the man's upper back. The president's round face is pale and sweaty as he sits down next to the examination table.

"Make sure it's done properly this time," Robert says.

"I really d-don't think I should," the president stammers. "It's been a long time since I p-practiced medicine. I just do the administrative stuff here now."

"Shut up and start testing," Robert says, raising his gun to the man's temple.

Evan sighs and watches the fat man prepare the needle. His hands are shaking too bad to put it in Leonie's stomach, and a nurse has to help. Throughout the process, Evan can see Leonie trying to make eye contact with him, but he refuses to look at her face.

The president finally takes the sample and injects the yellow fluid into a small glass tube. Robert gestures with his gun, and the president and nurses leave the examination room and head toward the labs. Leonie remains lying on the bed, playing with her hair. He turns his back so she can get dressed, but when he turns back around, she's still lying on the bed.

Her paper hospital gown is up around her creamy white thighs. She kicks her legs and stretches, arching her back and thrusting her small breasts into the air. Evan scowls and turns back around. I know most men find her beautiful, he thinks. But she disgusts me.

After more than half an hour, there's a knock at the door. The president enters the room, clutching a piece of paper. Robert follows him, but his pistol is back in its holster. Leonie sits upon the table, and the paper covering crinkles loudly.

"Well?" Evan asks.

"Her child has no genetic relation to you," the president says.

"No, no, that's impossible," Leonie says, sitting up. "I don't understand Evan. This is your child—I know it, and a mother always knows."

"Arrange an abortion," Evan says.

Leonie launches herself off the table and collapses at Evan's feet, clawing at his trousers with desperate hands. She whimpers, and he wonders if she'll kiss his shoes. The thought makes him smirk.

"No! Evan, it's your child!" she says. "It's yours. You can't make me!"

Evan snaps his fingers, and bodyguards march into the room. They roughly pull Leonie off the floor, restraining her arms behind her back. She squirms and kicks her little feet, but she's no match for the burly guards.

"What don't you understand?" Evan asks coldly. "I told you at the fashion show that I never slept with you, and now the doctors have confirmed it. Your baby is not mine. I'm sick of you acting like a spoiled princess just because you think you're pregnant with my child. This ends now."

Evan shoves his fists into his pockets and stomps out of the examination room. Though the bodyguards close the door behind him, he can hear Leonie's desperate screams all the way down the hall. He badly wants a drink and wonders where he can find a bottle of whiskey. He's about to ask a nurse to bring him one when he hears rapid footsteps behind him.

"Sir, our security team talked to the doctor, but she won't admit that she tampered with the results," Robert says.

"Well, tell them to apply more pressure," Evan says. "They always get people to talk to in the end. And don't forget to have the lab computers tested for hacking and malware."

Robert nods and barks some orders into his phone. Evan continues down the hallway, with Robert jogging along behind. The bright white light of the hospital makes Evan's head hurt. His knuckles sting terribly, and he half-wonders if they're infected. He vaguely hears Robert talking to someone on the phone, but he doesn't care enough to listen to the conversation.

"I see," Robert says into his phone. "Yes, I'll tell him at once."

"Sir, the maids, said that Avery returned to the mansion," Robert says. "They said she insisted on taking a few things. They swear they tried to stop her and hope you won't punish them too severely."

Evan sighs and turns to face Robert. The butler looks pale and sweaty, and the corner of his mouth twitches nervously. Robert hesitates as if he's not sure he should continue talking.

"What did she take?" Evan asks impatiently.

"They say it's nothing valuable," Robert says. "They say they thought about asking the bodyguards to stop her, but they were too scared. She took a recording pen, a book, and the computer-generated picture of her future baby."

Evan feels his broken heart hammer dully in his chest. Unless she's erased the message, the pen still has the recording he made after the visit to Nanny. In the recording, he repeats her words from the diorama, telling her he loves her. Why would she take that if she hates me? He wonders. Is it possible she still cares for me in some way?

He quickly shakes his, trying to get rid of the hopeful thought. If she really loved me, she wouldn't have been so desperate to get away, he thinks. I can't afford to fall for her mind games anymore.

"Have them clear out everything she left behind," he says. "When I get home, I don't want to see a single thing that reminds me of her. And from now on, everyone is forbidden to mention her in my presence. I never want to hear her name again."

"Sir, what if Mrs—Miss—she has a reason?" Robert stammers.

Evan grabs Robert's collar, lifting the man up into the air. He watches Robert choke and gasp before dropping him onto the hard floor. His mouth feels dry, and his blood feels hot in his veins.

"Don't forget your position," Evan says. "Just because you spend a lot of time with me doesn't mean you can meddle in my personal life. You're not my friend; you're just paid help."

"I'm just concerned—" Robert stammers.

"I don't need your pity!" Evan screams. "If anyone talks about her in front of me, I'll make sure they never talk again. Understand?"

Avery checks her phone and sees a message from Andrew asking her to meet him in front of the mall. There are two winking emojis. She rolls her eyes and calls for a taxi.

The driver pulls up to the mall, and she immediately sees Andrew's Bugatti Veyron. He's parked it in a red, no parking zone in front of the main entrance. Avery sighs and walks to the car. As she approaches a door swing open and Andrew hops out of the driver's seat.

"You're early," he says with a wink. "Couldn't wait to see me?"

"Traffic was light," Avery says with a shrug.

She looks Andrew up and down. He's wearing a black tuxedo with a scarlet red bowtie. Although he often wears tuxedos, she's never seen him wear a bowtie before. His hair is neatly brushed back, and she can smell his cologne from six feet away.

He walks in front of the car to open the passenger door for her. As she passes, he tries to wrap his arm around her waist, but she dodges him.

"Whose funeral are you dressed for?" she asks with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.

"I'm dressed for our wedding," Andrew says calmly. "I hope my future wife doesn't think of it as a funeral. Now, do you want to put your suitcase in the trunk?"

Avery shakes her head and tightens her grip on the suitcase. He reaches for it, and she swings it away from him, holding it behind her back.

"Why are you so nervous about it?" Andrew asks. "Is your dowry in it?"

"I just don't like other people messing with my stuff," Avery says.

Andrew shrugs and walks back around to the driver's side. Avery gets into the car and shuts the door behind her. The soft mechanical click of the door's lock is as loud as the iron clang of a prison cell door. Andrew drives slowly down the street, blasting the air conditioning as he goes. Avery shivers and wraps her arms around herself.

"Do you know when you're most attractive?" Andrew asks, his voice low.

"Do you know when you're most annoying?" she snaps.

"In moments like this," Andrew says, completely unbothered by her attitude.

"What a coincidence," she says. "I'd say the same for you."

She looks out the window as the city passes by. After several minutes it becomes clear that Andrew isn't taking her out of the city.

"Where are we going?" she asks.