I was brought back to the Shaw mansion and confined to the second floor.

Brandon didn't cut off my communications, but he stationed bodyguards everywhere to prevent my escape.


In the bedroom closet, I noticed several of my most intimate, expensive silk nightgowns were missing.

No need to guess who took them—that obsessive little brother had clearly been helping himself to my things.

Brandon returned each night, attempting to reconcile.


"Anna, come back to me. Once the child is born, I'll send that woman away."

"I don't care what happened between you and Brian. As long as you return to me, you'll remain Mrs. Shaw."


I couldn't tell how much of Brandon's reconciliation attempt was genuine feeling versus calculated self-interest.

Though I was confined, rumors about our "marital troubles" and my "affair with the brother-in-law" were spreading like wildfire online.

Only my return and cooperation with their PR strategy could help the Shaw business weather this storm.

When I continued my silence, Brandon changed tactics.

"Anna, I understand you need time. I'll wait for your answer, but don't make me wait too long."

"After all, that little tech studio of yours can't survive indefinitely."

Brandon's patience came with obvious threats.

Since my return to Shaw Mansion, my employees had been reporting increasing problems at the studio.

Before I could respond, Brandon's phone rang.

He answered, his expression immediately darkening.

"Get some rest, Anna. I won't be back tonight."

He said as he strode out.

My phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number appeared.

"Wait for me, Anna."

Brian?

What was that unstable boy planning now?