"Get lost," Andrew says, his voice low and flat.

"No, wait," Avery shouts.

The butler turns around, asks, "Are you willing to bet yourself?"

Andrew pinches her waist, but she pulls his hand away. The butler smiles at her, openly looking at her breasts and waist in the tight black dress. She crosses her arms across her chest and looks down at the short butler.

"Tell your master he's got a good eye," Avery says. "And tell him he could get two for the price of one if he likes."

The butler stares at her in confusion, and she loosens her shawl and slowly rubs her hand across her swelling stomach. The butler's eyes bulge, and he stammers an apology and runs away. Avery watches him go and then turns to Andrew.

"That's how a normal man reacts when he finds out a woman is pregnant," she says.

Andrew winks and says, "It's true they're normal men. But you should know by now that I'm anything but ordinary."

Andrew grabs a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and raises it in a mock toast. He gulps down the wine and passes the empty glass to another waiter. Then he wraps his arm around Avery and looks around the casino floor. He pulls her toward a well-dressed couple in their thirties.

"Hello, Mr. Clifford," the man says. "Who's this you have on your arm?"

"Oh, Avery is my fiancée, Avery," Andrew says calmly.

"You have good taste in women," the man says, looking Avery up and down. "She's gorgeous."

Avery's stomach turns; everyone in the room has been staring at her like a piece of meat. Andrew is the worst of them all, she thinks. Hearing him call me his fiancée makes me sick. He's clearly just trying to show me off to as many men as possible, but I don't want to play his game.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom," Avery says, prying Andrew's hand off her waist.

"I'll have some bodyguards escort you," Andrew says.

"That's unnecessary," Avery says. "I'm sure I can find the bathroom on my own."

Andrew shrugs and turns back to his conversation with the couple. Avery walks away from them, checking over her shoulder to make sure no one's following her. She doesn't have to go to the bathroom; she just wants to get away from all the drunk, lustful men in the room. She finds a red velvet couch in a corner, but by the time she gets there, it's already occupied by Lisa and Veronica.

Avery can hear their nasal, whiny voices from several feet away. They're complaining about the other women at the party and criticizing their hair and outfits. Avery sighs and tries to change direction before they notice her.

"Oh, Mrs. Howel," Lisa calls. "Well, I suppose you're not Mrs. Howel anymore. What should we call you these days?"

Avery mentally curses the women and slowly turns around to confront them. Lisa has her hair arranged in elaborate curls, and she's wearing a shimmering gold gown. Veronica has her hair piled on top of her head, and she's wearing a slinky silver dress slit up to her thigh.

"We just loved Leonie's video of you," Veronica says with a nasty smirk. "You were born to wear that outfit."

"Glad you liked it," Avery says cooly.

The women exchange glances, surprised that Avery doesn't seem bothered. Veronica leans over to whisper in Lisa's ear, and Lisa's eyes gleam cruelly. She casually leans back and narrows her eyes at Avery.

"I've just heard that you're not even Evan's mistress anymore," Lisa says. "He kicked you out of the mansion? So why are you here? Are you just selling yourself to any man who'll have you these days?"

"Don't let my life bother you, Lisa," Avery says. "If I were you, I'd spend my time worrying about the men here. You're not getting any younger—better try to get a sugar daddy now, while you still can."

"How dare you!" Lisa shrieks, jumping to her feet. "You've got a nasty mouth, but I can wash it out for you."

Lisa grabs a glass of red wine and splashes it on Avery's face. The cool liquid drips down Avery's face and soaks the bodice of her dress. She wipes her face with the back of her hand and stares at Lisa with shock and anger.

Veronica grabs Lisa's hand and tries to pull her away, but Lisa is laughing too hard to move. Veronica's face suddenly pales with panic, and she tugs harder on Lisa's arm.

"Come on, Lisa, we have to go," Veronica whispers. "Avery is nothing but trouble. You know, she's the reason Leonie had that forced abortion in the hospital. Come on."

Avery is still wiping the wine off her face when a long arm dumps a bottle of red wine on Lisa's head. Avery spins around and sees Andrew. His eyes flash dangerously, and the mole in the corner twitches with anger.

"If you ever lay hands on her again, it'll be the last thing you do," Andrew says. "Now, get lost!"

Lisa splutters an apology, lifts her dress up to her knees, and runs away as fast as she can. Veronica runs after her. Avery watches them run away, wishing Andrew hadn't intervened. What did they say about Leonie and the abortion? She thinks. Did Evan force her to have an abortion the same day he made me leave?

"Are you okay?" Andrew asks, grabbing a napkin from a passing waiter. "I thought you were a fighter, Felicity; why didn't you strike back at them?"

Avery grabs the napkin from him and dabs at her face. She tries to dry her dress, but it's impossible. The strong smell of the wine burns her nose and turns her stomach. She sighs and tosses the napkin back to Andrew.

"I'll take you to get changed," Andrew says. "You look uncomfortable."

He puts his hand on the small of her back and starts pushing her through the room. As they walk, people stop playing their games and turn to stare. Avery can hear them whispering about her, and she tries to keep her face calm and expressionless. Out of nowhere, a bodyguard runs over and whispers something to Andrew.

He frowns and says, "Sorry, Avery, I can't accompany you myself. But I'll get someone to show you the way."

He rushes away before she can even ask him what's happening. A waiter in a white uniform walks up and gestures for her to follow him. He takes her to an elevator and hits the button for the fifth floor. He leads her down a long corridor with thick crimson carpets and glowing yellow lamps on the wall. The ceilings are low, and there aren't any windows in the hall. Avery can't help but feel slightly claustrophobic.

"There are only four suites on this floor," the waiter says, opening a dark wooden door. "Only VIPs are allowed to stay here."

Avery steps into the room, and the waiter politely closes the door behind her. The room has been decorated in a luxurious, royal style. There is a four-poster bed, antique furniture, and a huge chandelier. Avery walks into the attached room, frowning when she realizes it's a sitting room. It seems there's only one bed in the suite.

She sighs and opens the closet. There are several evening dresses, sundresses, and pajamas hanging neatly inside—it's enough clothing for several days on the ship. She chooses a dark blue evening dress before eagerly stripping out of her wine-soaked gown.

She washes her face, reapplies her makeup, and fixes her hair. She slips into the dark blue satin and prepares to go downstairs. On her way to the elevator, she passes the door to the staircase. She hears muffled sobbing from inside and pauses outside the door.

"Mr. Clifford, please," a desperate voice begs. "I swear I didn't know that you and Miss Peters would be here. If I'd known, I never would have come. I won't say anything to anyone, I swear. Please."

"Only a dead man can be trusted to keep his mouth shut," Andrew says.

A gun echoes and Avery jumps. She holds her breath and quietly pushes the door open to peek inside. The doctor from the hospital lies on the wooden stairs in a pool of blood. The puddle gets bigger and bigger, soaking his white suit. Without meaning to, she gasps.

"Who's there?" Andrew asks, turning toward the door.

Avery shuts the door and starts to run. The hall is long, and there's no way she'll escape Andrew if he chases. She pushes on the first door on her left, but it won't budge. She continues down the hall and throws herself against the next door. To her surprise, it opens.

She shuts the door and steps into the pitch-black room, relieved that it seems to be empty. She gasps for breath and presses her ear to the thick wood door. Muffled footsteps thud in the hallway, and she locks the door as quietly as she can. She can hear Andrew's men wondering where to go next.

She sighs with relief and straightens up. The smell of alcohol overwhelms her. She touches her face and runs her hands through her hair, wondering if she missed some wine when she was freshening up. Then she feels hot breath on her face and realizes she's not alone.