Chapter 2

The freezing marble floor of the chapel drained the heat straight through Julianne's thin trench coat.

Sliding her hand out of her clutch, she leaned her back against the locked iron door and sank down to the stone floor as the wind howled against the stained-glass windows high above.

Outside, leather boots splashed through puddles. A guard's voice came through the crack at the bottom of the door as he spoke into his radio.

"Reporting to the secretariat. The suspect is quiet. No crying or pounding on the door. All exits are sealed per Mr. Blanchard's orders."

Julianne closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her cold knees.

Three years ago, a boy in a Blanchard prep school jacket had saved her in a dark Long Island alley, and she had taken it for love.

During their courtship, she had been happier than she had ever been; when the wedding came, she fell from that height straight into the wreckage of the marriage.

Only recently had she realized that he had married her not out of love, but because she was a quiet, obedient wife who could help secure his status.

The obsession she had held onto for three years, now crumbled like rotten wood.

A metallic scrape echoed from the lower half of the door. The small meal slot slid open, and a hand wearing a Cartier diamond bracelet reached through the iron bars.

Jaycee Blanchard stood outside under the eaves wrapped in a fur shawl. As Chadwick's younger sister, she had spent the last three years mocking Julianne's lack of family pedigree at every Manhattan party.

Jaycee tilted a glass and splashed half a cup of ice water through the bars onto the floor by Julianne's feet.

"Serves you right! Lowlifes will always be lowlifes. Had enough of playing the billionaire's wife for three years? My brother is drafting the eviction papers tonight! You're going to rot in the streets without a cent!"

Julianne didn't lift her head. She brushed a few drops of cold water off the hem of her skirt, her voice flat.

"Get lost, Jaycee. If I hadn't balanced your books before the family trust audit three years ago, you'd still be waiting for trial in Manhattan federal court."

Jaycee's face turned chalk white. She stomped her heel in the puddle outside.

"Stop spitting blood! Wait until Debroah wakes up—my brother will skin you alive!"

She slammed the metal slot shut and hurried away.

The storm outside grew fiercer. A draft blew through a crack in the stone wall and snuffed out the single candle on the altar, plunging the chapel into total darkness.

Half an hour later, the heavy iron lock clanked again. The door creaked open a foot, accompanied by hurried, soft footsteps.

Beatrice Blanchard, Chadwick's mother, stepped inside wearing a dark gray cashmere cardigan, followed by an old housemaid.

Among the entire Blanchard clan, only Beatrice had ever shown Julianne basic decency.

Beatrice crouched down quickly and draped a thick camel-colored wool blanket over Julianne's shivering shoulders.

"Child, put this on. The floor heating in this building hasn't been turned on in decades. You'll freeze to death in here."

Julianne's icy fingertips touched the warm wool. Her eyelashes trembled slightly, though her voice stayed calm.

"Mrs. Blanchard, you shouldn't have come. If the old master finds out, he'll blame you too."

Beatrice let out a long sigh, her eyes full of helplessness.

"I know you know your place and wouldn't do something so foolish. But Debroah's hemorrhage is real. Ignatius is furious, and Chadwick has lost his mind... Just bow your head and admit it was an accidental shove. Let me beg for mercy for you."

Julianne pulled the wool blanket halfway off her shoulders and looked into the older woman's eyes.

"I won't admit to a single word of something I didn't do. If I have to kneel to beg for the truth, then this family is already rotten to the core."

The sharp thud of a cane striking stone rang out from the corridor outside. Ignatius's raspy roar cut through the rain.

"Beatrice! Who gave you permission to interfere with family punishment? Get out here!"

Beatrice flinched, pulling her hands back as if burned. She scrambled to her feet and backed toward the door, her brief kindness swallowed by her fear of the patriarch.

Ignatius stood on the stone steps outside under an umbrella held by his aide, glaring down at Julianne.

"Stubborn fool! Since you refuse to repent, spend tonight on your knees confessing your sins to God!"

At a wave of his hand, a security guard stepped in, ripped the wool blanket off Julianne's shoulders, grabbed the thermos of hot water the maid was holding, and threw both out into the mud.

A tall shadow appeared behind them in the doorway. Chadwick walked in, the shoulders of his black overcoat damp with cold air from the hospital.

He stepped past his mother and grandfather, stopping directly in front of Julianne, and threw a thin private hospital medical report down into the dust at her feet.

"The eldest branch's unborn child is gone. Debroah's uterus suffered severe damage—she will never be able to conceive again." Chadwick's voice was like a bucket of ice water poured straight over her head. "Are you satisfied now?"

Julianne picked up the report stamped with the seal of NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital and let out a cold laugh.

"What a great act. To pull me down, she really didn't mind paying a high price."

Chadwick bent down, grabbed Julianne by the collar of her coat, and hauled her off the floor, slamming her back against a rough stone pillar.

"Even now you're shifting the blame! Do you really think I won't hand your crimes over to the New York District Attorney's office?"

Julianne's breath caught in her throat from the impact against her spine, yet she stared straight into his furious gray eyes.

"Call them. Call the NYPD and have forensics seal off Long Island. Let's see who actually ends up in a cell!"

Their eyes locked in the dark. For a split second, the absolute certainty in her gaze made Chadwick's grip falter.

He quickly shoved that trace of unease down and let go of her collar, letting Julianne drop back onto the freezing stone floor.

"Trying to bring the police in to humiliate the Blanchard family in public? Keep dreaming."

Chadwick took two steps back, his face hardening again.

"Give her time to reflect. Tomorrow morning my lawyers will bring the separation papers. Until she signs, no water and no food."

The iron door slammed shut and locked. A moment later, the exterior corridor lights were switched off, leaving the chapel in pitch darkness.

Cold crept up from the stone slabs into Julianne's bones.

Her forehead began to burn with a sudden, violent fever, her vision blurring as she leaned her head back against the stone pillar and whispered into the dark.

"Chadwick, you'd better pray I don't freeze to death tonight..."

Her eyelids grew too heavy to hold open, and she slumped sideways beside the wooden pew.