At exactly 7:14 p.m., he stepped into the private dressing suite inside Carter Tower in New York City, searching for the cufflinks someone had misplaced before the annual Carter Foundation fundraiser. I stood frozen in front of the mirror with my stained blouse halfway off my shoulders, clutching a clean black blouse against my chest.

Three weeks later.

The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the Carter Enterprises executive suite on the 80th floor.

Life had slowly begun to regain a beautiful, peaceful rhythm. I was back at my desk outside Ethan’s corner office, managing his schedule, reviewing corporate proposals, and organizing the foundation’s revised hospital expansion plan.

I was no longer wearing high collars or heavy makeup. The bruises on my arms and ribs had faded into pale, distant memories. For the first time in over a year, I smiled genuinely at everyone who walked past my desk.

And every morning, Ethan would stop by my desk, leave a fresh cup of vanilla coffee, and spend five quiet minutes talking with me before the crazy work day began. We hadn't rushed into anything—Ethan respected my healing process above all else—but the quiet, profound love between us grew stronger with every passing day.

At 10:00 a.m., my desk phone chimed softly.

I picked it up. “Ethan Carter’s office, Ava speaking.”

“Ava...” a raspy, desperate voice hissed through the speaker.

My blood turned to ice.

It was Andrew.

“Andrew?” I whispered, my hand tightening on the receiver. “How are you calling me? You’re in federal detention!”

“Bail was granted two hours ago, Ava,” Andrew laughed softly—a dark, unhinged sound that made my skin crawl. “My father’s legal team pulled some favors with a state judge. I’m out on a home confinement bond.”

“You need to hang up, Andrew,” I said, my voice steadying as I reached for the emergency security button under my desk. “If Ethan’s legal team finds out you’re contacting me—”

“Ethan Carter can’t help you now, darling,” Andrew sneered through the phone. “I’m standing in the basement parking garage of Carter Tower right now. I’m sitting in a grey van near the executive elevator bay.”

I froze, my hand hovering over the security button.

“Listen to me very carefully, Ava,” Andrew whispered venomously. “I have a remote detonator connected to three incendiary devices placed inside the central HVAC ventilation shafts on the 80th floor. If you press that security button, or if Ethan tries to call security, I will press the switch. This entire floor will go up in flames in ten seconds.”

My breath hit a wall. “You’re insane, Andrew! There are over two hundred people working on this floor!”

“Then you better come down to the parking garage alone in three minutes,” Andrew commanded coldly. “Step into the grey van, or everyone on the 80th floor—including your precious Ethan—burns to death.”

The line went dead with a loud click.

I sat at my desk, my body trembling with panic. I looked toward Ethan’s glass office door. Inside, Ethan was reviewing a quarterly financial report, looking handsome, relaxed, and completely unaware of the threat lurking forty floors below us.

I couldn't let Ethan die. I couldn't let two hundred innocent people die because of the monster who had abused me.