At midnight, Garrett leaves the hospital, claiming a crisis with the European markets. Two massive bodyguards remain stationed outside Elliana's door.
A nurse in blue scrubs and a surgical mask pushes a medical cart down the hall. She nods to the guards and slips into the room.
The nurse locks the door, pulls down her mask, and exhales sharply. It is Audrey.
She reaches into the deep pocket of her scrubs and pulls out a heavily encrypted iPad. She shoves it into Elliana's good hand.
"Look at this. It's a leaked proof of next month's Vanity Fair."
Elliana stares at the screen. The headline screams in bold black letters: The Socialite's Masterpiece: Cristina Bruce and the Million-Dollar World of The Prairie Fire.
Below the text is a glossy photo of Cristina posing with a stylus, looking thoughtfully out a Parisian window.
Elliana's lungs tighten. She can't breathe.
"Garrett routed the IP through a Cayman Islands shell company," Audrey whispers fiercely. "He forged your signature on a deed of gift during one of your 'medication naps.' Hollywood is signing the contract with Cristina tomorrow."
Elliana's eyes burn. Three years of sketching until her fingers bled. Three years of pouring her soul onto paper.
That was why Garrett brought the contract today. He needed a fresh signature to legitimize the forged documents.
The rage inside her crystallizes into pure ice. She doesn't cry. She doesn't scream.
She reaches out with her left hand and traces the characters on the screen.
Audrey shivers. "Ellie, you're scaring me. What are we going to do?"
"I am going home," Elliana says. Her voice is dead.
"Are you insane? He's poisoning you!"
"Dennis Nixon needs proof," Elliana says, staring at the wall. "The drug logs, the original PSD files, the financial records. They are all in Garrett's penthouse. If I don't get them, I lose my baby, my book, and my freedom."
Audrey swallows hard. She nods, pulls her mask back up, and slips out of the room.
The next morning, Garrett walks in to find Elliana dressed in her own clothes.
She grabs his arm, her entire body trembling violently. "Get me out of here, Garrett. The monitors, the smells... I can't take it. I need to go home. I only feel safe with you."
She forces a sob, burying her face in his chest.
Garrett wraps his arms around her. The absolute submission feeds his massive ego. He kisses the top of her head. "Okay, sweetheart. I'll take you home."
By afternoon, the black Maybach pulls into the underground garage of the Upper East Side penthouse.
The private elevator doors open. Brenda stands in the foyer, her hands clasped in front of her apron.
Elliana meets the housekeeper's cold eyes. She leans heavily against Garrett and offers Brenda a weak, perfectly broken smile.
She is back in the monster's lair.
