A gunshot shattered the night.

The lanky man collapsed like a broken marionette, blood spreading in grotesque patterns across the concrete.

Dogs in the yard howled wildly, straining against their chains.

The bald man tried to flee but was tackled by police. The priceless antique painting was seized and locked in a safe within seconds.

Sophia's fingers dug into the windowsill.

She'd never seen Ethan like this—his gun handling unnervingly practiced, his gaze colder than glacial ice.

"Come down." He discarded the weapon and reached for her.

Trembling, Sophia nearly stumbled when he lifted her from the ledge. His slender fingers traced the wound on her neck with improbable tenderness.

"Does it hurt?"

She shook her head, voice trapped by the lingering memory of steel against her throat.

Ethan suddenly crushed her against his chest. His heartbeat pounded violently against her ear.

"Why didn't you call me immediately?" His voice rasped. "If your mother hadn't noticed..."

Sophia's nose stung.

This embrace felt dangerously warm—warm enough to almost make her forget Isabella Valentine stood between them.

As their car entered the city, a familiar ringtone shattered the silence. Ethan glanced at the screen and declined the call.

His assistant's phone rang instantly.

"It's Miss Valentine." The assistant hesitantly offered the device.

Sophia turned away as Isabella's saccharine voice floated through: "Ethan, is Sophia alright? I can change my own bandages these days..."

She gently extricated herself from Ethan's arms.

How absurd. Her own husband needed another woman's "permission" to stay with her.

One week later, their driver called late at night: "Madam, Mr. Sullivan is drunk. He keeps calling your name."

Grace nudged her. "Go. You're still married, after all."

When Sophia arrived, an exquisite fruit basket sat in the foyer.

Her stomach dropped.

In the living room, Isabella leaned over Ethan, feeding him water. Her white dress gaped revealingly, exposing milky skin.

"Sophia?" Isabella feigned surprise, straightening. "Don't misunderstand, I was just—"

Ethan's eyes flew open. "Sophia..." he slurred, struggling upright.

Isabella "accidentally" tumbled into his lap.

"Ethan..." Her red lips parted as she wrapped her arms suggestively around his waist.

Sophia stood frozen in the doorway.

She watched Ethan's hand settle on Isabella's nape, their mouths nearly touching. The embrace that once belonged to her now cradled another woman.

Her keys hit the floor with a crystalline clatter.