General He is really miserable, got divorced by his wife.

The Maybach glided smoothly over the slick Manhattan asphalt. Inside the cabin, the rich scent of leather and Elliot's cologne filled the air.

Evelyn leaned her head back against the plush headrest. The rigid tension in her spine finally collapsed. She let out a long, shaky breath, expelling the toxic air of the last three years.

Elliot reached into the small built-in refrigerator between the seats. He pulled out a bottle of room-temperature Fiji water, twisted the cap off, and handed it to her.

Evelyn took a slow sip. The water soothed her dry, burning throat. She turned her head. "Thank you. For hitting him."

Elliot turned his head, his gaze meeting hers in the dim light of the cabin. A cynical, protective smirk touched his lips. "I've been wanting to break his jaw for three years."

At that exact moment, a soaking wet Julian stepped out of his private elevator and into the penthouse. He walked into the entryway and violently kicked a massive porcelain floor vase. It shattered into a hundred pieces.

He marched into the master bedroom and stared at the empty corner of the closet. The space where her cheap clothes used to hang was bare. It made his chest feel uncomfortably tight.

Julian pulled out his phone and dialed Camila. "Find out what properties Elliot Thorne owns in the city. Track her down. Now."

Half an hour later, the Maybach descended into a highly secure underground garage beneath a luxury high-rise on the Upper East Side, right off Central Park.

Elliot led Evelyn to a private elevator that required a retinal scan. They rode it straight up to the 68th floor.

The doors opened directly into a massive, sprawling penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around 270 degrees of the living space, offering an unobstructed, breathtaking view of Central Park.

The interior was warm, filled with rich textures and soft lighting-the exact opposite of Julian's cold, minimalist aesthetic.

Elliot tossed a set of keys onto a silver tray near the door. "This place is owned by an offshore shell company. Julian's people will never find a paper trail linking it to me, or to you."

Evelyn slipped off the damp trench coat. She walked slowly toward the glass wall, looking out over the sprawling city skyline.

Elliot walked up behind her. He unfolded a thick, heated cashmere blanket and draped it gently over her shoulders.

Evelyn pulled the blanket tight across her chest. Her hands moved down, resting protectively over her lower abdomen. A fierce, resilient light sparked in her eyes.

She turned to face Elliot. "Elliot, I can't stay here for free," Evelyn said, her voice steady despite the lingering chill in her bones. "Let me work for you to cover the rent, or at least let me sign an IOU. I will pay you back, with interest."

Elliot chuckled, shaking his head. He knew her stubborn pride too well. He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and emailed her a digital lease agreement.

Evelyn opened the email on her phone and signed it with her finger immediately.

She walked over to her battered suitcase and unzipped it. She pulled out the black hardcover notebook and carried it to the massive mahogany desk in the corner of the room.

Evelyn sat down in the leather executive chair. She flipped the notebook open. Her fingers traced the complex chemical formulas written on the pages.

Evelyn took a deep, slow breath, placing a trembling hand on her still-flat stomach. The cold fury and lingering heartbreak inside her rapidly solidified into a diamond-hard resolve. It was no longer just about her survival; it was about theirs. She closed her eyes for a long second, and when she opened them, all remaining vulnerability was completely gone, replaced by a chilling, undeniable focus—the look of a woman who had finally stopped playing the victim and found her weapon.

"I need you to source top-tier, lab-grade raw materials through a blind supply chain," Evelyn said. Her voice had changed. The tone was absolute.

Elliot dropped his casual demeanor. He pulled out a tablet and a stylus, ready to work.

Evelyn rattled off a list of highly restricted botanical extracts and synthetic peptides. Her eyes were sharp, calculating. She looked like a general preparing for war.

"Aura Beauty’s flagship anti-aging line must be ready for production by next month," Evelyn commanded. "It’s time to claim the market share that should have been mine."

Elliot watched her profile. This was the real Evelyn Reed.

"Consider it done," Elliot said. "I'll use my family's logistics network."

He told her to get some rest and take care of the two babies. Then he walked out, leaving her alone in her new fortress.

The apartment was dead silent. Evelyn walked into the massive kitchen and heated a mug of milk.

She stood by the window, the warm mug in her hands, looking down at the glittering lights of New York. We are free, she told her stomach silently.