Everything seems to move in slow motion. The crystals shatter on the floor, and shards of glass spray like sparkles. She hears a dull roaring in her ears, and each fallen pendant sounds like an avalanche. She curls her body into the fetal position and throws her arms over her face and head. Too slowly, she realizes that she should close her eyes to keep the glass out. She shuts her eyes, and everything goes dark, and then something heavy is on her.

At first, she thinks she's been hit, but her body doesn't hurt. Besides, the thing is warm, and she can hear it breathing. The person wraps arms around her and picks her up, and then they're running. She hears the chandelier fall with a final deafening crash, and she shivers.

She opens her eyes and comes face to face with Andrew. He's panting for breath, but he won't put her down. She looks over his shoulder at the fallen chandelier. Beneath the twisted metal, the broken glass looks like a pile of diamonds.

"Honey, are you okay?" Andrew asks.

She wants to answer, but the words seem to get stuck in her throat. She swallows and tries again, but she still can't speak. She nods her head instead, and his face relaxes.

"Are you in shock?" he asks. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine," she says, the words coming out hoarse.

"What about your belly?" he asks. "Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," she says, strangely feeling touched that he's worried about the child.

She looks over Andrew's shoulder at the broken chandelier. Something glitters on the back of his jacket, and she realizes it's a shard of glass. In fact, his back is covered with dozens of shards—some small and some large. There are dark wet spots on the back of his black coat.

Andrew slowly puts her down and examines her from head to toe. She has a small cut near her ankle, but it's just a scratch. As he inspects her ankle, she studies his back. It looks horrible.

"Andrew," she finally says. "You're badly hurt."

"Am I?" he asks.

He pauses, and he finally seems to notice the pain. His mouth tightens into a grimace, and his face pales. Avery kneels down beside him and looks closer at his back. It's impossible to tell just how bad his injuries are with his clothing on, but she suspects that they're severe. Several pendants must have fallen on him as he carried her to safety.

The chandelier seems to fall in slow motion as Andrew runs beneath it. There's a horrible, high-pitched sound, and it takes Jessica several seconds to realize it's her screaming. She only stops when she sees that Andrew is still standing on the other side of the rubble pile.

"Jesus, James, I told you I didn't want to kill anyone," she says. "What were you thinking? Such a big chandelier could be deadly."

"You told me you wanted to send a warning," James says with a shrug. "Besides, I think it was successful. No one's dead."

Jessica scowls and says, "We almost killed my brother—I wouldn't call that successful."

"But we didn't," James says. "That's what matters.

"You're unbelievable," Jessica shouts.

She runs down the stairs to the casino floor as fast as her stiletto heels will let her. The casino staff is already sweeping up the broken glass when she gets there. She rushes over to Andrew and sees that he's removed his coat. His white shirt is soaked with bright red blood. Her breath seems to catch in her lungs.

"Andrew, oh my God, Andrew, you scared me," she says, taking him in her arms. "Don't ever do anything like that again."

"If you don't let go of me, I might not be okay," Andrew hisses.

She lets go of him and takes a step back. His face is contorted with pain, and there's blood streaked across his cheek. She looks down at her hands and sees that it's on her fingers too.

"Oh, Andrew, I'm so sorry," she says, beginning to sob.

"It's okay, Jessica," he says. "I'm going to be just fine."

"No, Andrew, you don't understand," she says, sobbing heavily.

Before she can finish explaining, she sees Jackson walking over. She wipes at her tears, worried she's smearing mascara all over her face. But Jackson doesn't even seem to see her. Instead, he's staring at Gabrielle.

As Jessica talks to Andrew, Avery looks around the room. Evan is standing next to the pile of broken glass, and his mouth is set in a grim line. She looks past him and notices a team of bodyguards standing at attention. The men look a bit messy as if they've been in a fight. She turns and sees Andrew's bodyguards. One of them is still wiping the blood from his split lip.

Was there a fight? She wonders. Why on Earth would they have gotten into a fight at a time like this? She looks back at Evan and sees that he's glaring at her. Wait, why is he so close to the chandelier? She wonders. Last time I saw him, he was halfway across the room—how did he get over here so quickly?

A doctor rushes onto the scene and tries to lead Andrew away to his room. Andrew reaches out for her, and she has no choice but to go with him. After all, he just saved her life. He puts an arm around her shoulder and lets her help him to the room. Every step seems to cause him unspeakable pain.

Avery helps him lie down on a sofa and watches as the doctor slices at his bloodied shirt with a pair of scissors. The doctor works carefully but quickly, tossing the ruined strips of cloth onto the floor at his feet.

"You look angry," Andrew says.

"I am," Avery answers. "Don't you think it's a little too convenient that the chandelier fell just as I was exposing Jackson's scam."

"I'm sure Jackson will investigate the accident," Andrew answers.

"What a joke," Avery says. "He was clearly trying to silence me."

"I know you're angry, but think about it," Andrew says. "You weren't under the chandelier—it was Gabrielle. Why would Jackson hurt her after he went to such great effort to win her? It doesn't add up. Besides, calling him out like that was a little too bold. Weren't you worried he'd try to take revenge? You know half his family's fortune comes from these casinos."

"I'm not worried about his petty revenge plots," Avery says. "But he better leaves my sister out of it."

Andrew sighs and hides his face in the sofa cushion. The doctor continues to snip at the fabric, careful to avoid tugging on any of the glass shards stuck in Andrew's back. He winces as the tip of the scissors brush against a particularly large and jagged shard.

"Anyway, what were your cards?" Andrew asks. "Did you win the game?"

"Take a wild guess," Avery says. "If I had the winning cards, do you think I would've risked that scene back there?"

The doctor turns to Avery and says, "Can you please help me? I'm waiting for the nurses to come to join me, but I don't want to keep Mr. Clifford waiting any longer."

Avery nods and steps forward. Andrew's back looks even worse up close. There's so much blood it's hard to see where the wounds are. The doctor passes her a cotton pad with antiseptic and shows her how to clean the blood without pushing the glass in deeper. Avery dabs at his back, but her hands shake terribly.

"Why are your hands shaking so bad?" Andrew asks. "Are you in shock, or do you just feel sorry for me?"

"I don't know how to do this," she says. "I think I'll hurt you if I continue—the doctor should wait for the nurses."

"If I know you're doing it, it'll hurt less," Andrew flirts.

Avery rolls her eyes and says, "Clearly, you're not hurt that badly. If you can still joke and flirt you must be fine. Anyway, it looks like some of these cuts need stitches. Maybe I'll ask the doctor to stitch your mouth shut too."

"I've just remembered that your ankle is hurt," Andrew says, lifting his head from the sofa. "Doctor, take care of her first."

"It's nothing," Avery says. "I just need a bandage, and I can put that on myself."

"No, take care of her first," Andrew insists.

"How about I take care of you at the same time?" the doctor says.

There's a knock at the door, and a team of nurses rushes into the room. The doctor orders one to look at Avery's ankle while the others help him tend to Andrew's back.