A few days later, the airport.

The terminal was a chaotic blur of travelers. Several men in sharp black suits loomed near the arrivals gate, scanning the crowd with predatory focus. When they caught sight of a familiar figure rolling a suitcase toward them, their eyes lit up with predatory relief.

"Ma'am—no, Ms. Miller. Grandma sent us to escort you."

Elaine Miller furrowed her brow, her grip tightening on the handle of her suitcase. "Marcellus doesn’t know I’m back, right? Tell me he doesn't know."

"Of course not." The lead bodyguard took her luggage and ushered her toward a sleek, black Maybach idling at the curb. "Grandma has everything under control. You just need to come in for the compatibility screening."

Elaine let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She felt a flicker of embarrassment for her own nerves. Why would Marcellus Spencer care if she was alive? She had left, and he had finally gotten what he wanted: his perfect life with Morgan Rose. He was probably thrilled she was gone.

Reassured, she slid into the backseat.

In the next heartbeat, a heavy arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her against a wall of solid muscle. A familiar, suffocating scent—cedar and cold steel—engulfed her senses. She gasped, her eyes widening in terror. "What are you doing?!"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

Marcellus buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, his movements bordering on feral. His eyes, fixed on her, burned with a frantic, unhinged intensity. "You really thought you were clever, didn't you? Collaborating with Grandma to lie to me."

"Do you have any idea how terrified I was?"

Elaine thrashed, fighting against the iron vice of his arms, but he didn't budge. She forced herself to go limp, breathing through the panic to regain her composure. "Zeke is safe, isn't he?"

"Still so sharp. He’s fine." Marcellus let out a low, mirthless chuckle that vibrated through his chest. There was no warmth in his eyes, only a bone-chilling frost. "It’s not him you should be worried about. It’s me."

"I almost died because I thought you were gone..."

Elaine gritted her teeth, not believing a single syllable. "Where is Grandma? Why would she help you trick me?"

Marcellus nuzzled her neck, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Grandma didn't help me. I hacked into her phone, stole your number, and used an AI voice synthesizer to mimic hers."

"You’re so cruel, Elaine. I was practically on my deathbed, and you couldn’t even be bothered to come back and look at me."

Elaine reached her breaking point. "Why would I want to see you? We’re divorced. We have nothing to do with each other!"

"The sight of you makes me sick."

Marcellus’s expression remained unchanged, as if he were watching a temper tantrum from a child. "You're upset. I get it. Come back with me, and I’ll make it up to you."

"Make it up to me, my ass!"

Elaine snapped, the profanity sharp and uncharacteristic as she began to kick wildly at the car door.

Marcellus’s smile vanished. He subdued her with a single, practiced movement, his voice turning ice-cold. "Drive. Faster."

The driver didn't hesitate, slamming his foot onto the gas. The car surged forward like a bullet.

They reached the Spencer Estate in a blur. Marcellus didn't bother with pleasantries; he hauled Elaine out of the car, throwing her over his shoulder as he strode toward the house.

"Marcellus! What are you doing? Put me down!"

Elaine hammered her fists against his back, her nails digging into his skin, but he ignored the pain as if he were made of stone. He navigated through the hallways with aggressive purpose, heading straight for the deepest, darkest corner of the West Wing.

The room was dim, illuminated only by a sliver of gray light. From within, the sound of a woman’s guttural, ragged howling echoed against the walls.

Elaine went rigid, her head slowly turning toward the sound.

Cowering by the bed was a woman—disheveled, her hair matted and face streaked with grime, her body a map of angry red lash marks. She was swatting at the air, screaming at ghosts.

It was Morgan Rose.

"I thought she had actually killed you, and when I found out what she’d been doing to you behind my back..." Marcellus spoke with chilling indifference. "I decided to return the favor. She’s getting exactly what she gave you, in full."