Sirens wail in the distance, and the kidnappers disappear. She looks around the dark, gloomy warehouse and waits. Thick chains hang from the ceilings and molding wooden boxes sit in tall stacks along the walls. She wants to scream for help, but a part of her worries that the kidnappers are still lurking nearby.

The sirens get louder, and blue and red lights flicker through the dusty windows overhead. She hears rushed footsteps and then the sound of a door being kicked in. The footsteps get louder, and then a dozen bright flashlights blind her.

"Miss, are you all right?" the police commander asks.

"No," she says, shaking her head. "They knew you were coming—I almost died. Who called you?"

"A concerned gentleman," the commander answers.

"Did he give his name?" she asks. "Was it Evan?"

"I'm sorry, Miss," the commander says. "We really can't discuss this with you right now."

They untie her and help her walk toward the door—an officer supports her on each side as she stumbles toward the bright, flashing lights outside. Outside there are ten squad cars and an undercover vehicle—dozens of officers mill around and bark reports into their walkie talkies. A slender female figure wanders among them, looking lost.

"Miss, this is an active crime scene," an officer shouts. "You can't go inside."

"But I'm her friend," Rebecca's voice says. "I'm really worried about her—shouldn't she be out of there by now?"

"She's still in shock," the officer says. "Let her breathe. Besides, as soon as she's able to talk, she has to answer our questions. You can talk to her later."

Rebecca paces the ground, waiting for news from the officers. The voices on the walkie talkies are almost incoherent. She can't understand what they're saying with all that static in the background.

When she sees the officers half-dragging, Avery, out of the warehouse, her heart sinks. It's almost too bad that they didn't kill her, she thinks. But at least she looks pretty shaken up. Maybe she'll mind her own business.

She touches the bandage on her neck and sighs. I'd better not have a scar for nothing, she thinks. She chews her lip and watches the officers talking to Avery. Before the kidnapping, everything was going according to her plan.

That bitch doesn't know how much effort she's cost me, Rebecca thinks, feeling her blood start to boil. I knew it was too good to be true when Evan called me up and said he wanted to date me. It was easy enough to bribe Howel servants and find out that Evan's grandfather imprisoned him until he agreed to date me.

As if that wasn't insulting enough, he dragged me here and left me in that miserable little house all by myself. I played the perfect girlfriend, but he seemed blind to my beauty and charms. I knew then that he still had feelings for his little whore of an ex. I hunted her down and asked her to design the cufflinks and hired a murderer to keep her trapped in my house.

Of course, Evan was smitten with her. The way he looked at her made me sick to my stomach—he never once looked at me like that. Arranging the kidnapping was tough, but I thought the plan was a good one. Faking unconsciousness in the hospital was difficult, but a few bribes to the nurses helped. After that, it was just a matter of redirecting the call to the voice-double I hired and asking him to call the police.

She taps the briefcase at her feet with the tip of her shoe. There are two hundred million dollars in the case, but she knows she won't have to use it. The plan was never about the money. It was about making Avery realize that Evan doesn't care enough to pay her ransom.

Really, if it weren't for that bastard in her stomach, I would've let them kill her, she thinks. Maybe I'm too soft. Maybe I should have let the bastard die—it'll just compete with my own child someday.

"Let me in, please," Rebecca shouts. "I'm so worried. I feel sick to my stomach. The kidnappers were supposed to take me, but she sacrificed herself. If anything has happened to her, I'll never be able to live with myself."

The police shrug, and Rebecca limps over. The plaster cast on her leg makes her usually graceful walk look awkward and clunky. She's carrying something heavy and black under her arm, and she seems to be struggling with it.

"Avery," she shouts. "Avery, are you okay?"

Avery's head spins, and she grabs the nearest officer for support. The man's eyes widen, and he slips her arm around his neck to keep her on her feet. She groans and looks at Rebecca. What is she doing here? She wonders. I can't believe she'd show her face after leaving me to die.

"Avery, I'm so sorry," Rebecca says, gasping for breath. "I didn't mean to leave you. I lost consciousness on the way to the hospital from blood loss. I was out for a day. When I woke up I saw all the missed calls and I feared the worst. I got the money and rushed to the drop point, but the police were already here. I was scared; I was too late."

Avery closes her eyes and shakes her head. Rebecca's words make sense, but it's too much to think about. Her legs shake, and her body feels like it's shutting down. She shivers as an officer shouts for someone to bring her a shock blanket.

"When did the police arrive?" Rebecca asks. "Did you call them yourself? You're so brave."

"No," Avery whispers. "I didn't call them."

"Well, thank God someone did," Rebecca says. "I was worried, sick. Maybe I would have gotten here in time, but who knows."

"I'm fine," Avery says. "It's okay now."

Rebecca lunges forward and wraps her arms around Avery. Tears shine in her large eyes and drip down onto her cheeks. Within seconds she's sobbing uncontrollably. A kind looking officer pulls Rebecca off Avery and hands her a tissue.

"I'm going to call Evan and tell him what happened," Rebecca says. "He'll make sure you and the baby get the best treatment."

"Don't bother," Avery says, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "He already knows."

"How does he know?" Rebecca asks.

"The kidnappers called him," she says. "They asked for ransom, but he never showed. I think he called the police himself."

"No," Rebecca gasps. "That's impossible. I mean, maybe he did call the police, but I'm sure he would have come himself. He cares so much about the baby."

Rebecca's words hit her harder than everything else combined. She's right, Avery thinks. If he cared, he would have come himself. He rescued me from danger so many times—he even risked his life to do it. But now he couldn't even be bothered to pay the ransom.

She closes her eyes and pretends to faint. The officer catches her before she hits the ground and carries her to one of the police cruisers. She curls into a ball in the back seat and sobs. By the time they arrive at the police station, her eyes are red and swollen, and her throat aches.

"Oh honey," Andrew says, opening the door to the cruiser. "Oh, Avery, are you okay?"

He pulls her out and holds her close, and she feels too weak to fight him. She lets him lead her into the station, and put a cup of hot tea into her hands. She sips it and tries to answer the police commissioner's questions.

"And how did you find out about the incident?" the commissioner asks Andrew.

"Well, the bank called when two hundred million dollars mysteriously disappeared from my account," Andrew says. "And of course I was worried sick—my fiancé has been missing for over a day. I put two and two together and figured she'd been taken somehow. It's funny—I don't remember ever telling her the password to my account, but I must have mentioned it at some point."

Avery takes another sip of tea to hide her face. It's true that Andrew never told her the password—she guessed it and got lucky. The commissioner scribbles notes onto a piece of paper and waves his hands to dismiss them.

"Oh my god, honey," Andrew says, pulling her to his side. "From now on, I'm not letting you out of my sight. It's too dangerous out there for you—you seem to attract it like some kind of cursed magnet."

"I don't," she says. "And I want you to know, and I'll find a way to pay you back."

"Do we have to talk about money?" Andrew asks. "In a few weeks, we'll say I do, and all my money will be yours."

"Never mind that now," she says. "I'm exhausted and in so much pain. I don't think I can face your family. Can we please go back to the villa?"

"Of course," Andrew says. "There's a photographer there now, but I'll take you back as soon as I can."

Gabrielle bites her lip and looks at Hill, wondering why he summoned her.

"Your performance the other night left quite an impression on our guests," Hill says. "There's a gentleman in a private room asking for you. Mr. Oliver would like you to go entertain him."

"Really?" she asks. "I thought he forbade me from serving other guests."

Hill is about to answer when an unfamiliar man comes up behind him and whispers something in his ear. Hill's cheek twitches, but he doesn't respond. He takes Gabrielle by the wrist and leads her toward a set of large oak doors.

The doors are ajar, and she can see a man in a dark suit sitting on a black silk sofa. Other men are standing around the room, but she can't tell if they're guests or bodyguards. The lights are dim and golden, and a girl giggles in the middle of the room.

"Rock, paper, scissors," the man on the sofa shouts. "Ha—you lost!"

Gabrielle leans forward, trying to get a better look. Did these men get a private room just to play a child's game? She wonders.