A sharp, electronic beep echoed through the room. The heavy solid wood door didn't splinter; instead, the high-security smart lock glowed green as Eleonora used her master biometric override. The door swung open smoothly, a chilling contrast to the violence of the two massive bodyguards in black suits who stormed into the bedroom.
Eleonora and Camilla walked in right behind them. They looked down at Aubree's motionless body on the floor with deep disgust.
Camilla stepped forward. She raised her pointed stiletto and kicked Aubree hard in the shoulder. "Stop playing dead," Camilla sneered.
Aubree didn't move.
Eleonora looked at one of the guards. "Go to the bathroom. Get a bowl of cold water. Wake her up."
The guard walked into the bathroom and came back with a glass bowl filled with tap water. He dumped it directly onto Aubree's burning face.
The violent shock of the freezing water made Aubree gasp. Her eyes flew open. She sucked in a jagged breath, waking up from the deep unconsciousness.
Her vision was blurry. She saw dark, twisted shapes standing over her.
Camilla squatted down. She grabbed a fistful of Aubree's wet hair and yanked her head back.
"You cheap murderer," Camilla spat. "You almost killed Dayna's baby."
Aubree's throat was swollen shut. She tried to speak, but only a dry, hissing sound came out.
Eleonora threw a pile of black fabric onto the floor next to Aubree. It looked like a mourning dress. "Put that on," Eleonora commanded. "Eli wants you at the hospital. You are going to kneel by Dayna's bed and beg for forgiveness."
Hearing Eli's name sent a jolt of pure hatred through Aubree's chest. She gathered the last ounce of her strength and shoved Camilla's arm away.
Camilla stumbled backward. Her face twisted with rage. She swung her arm and slapped Aubree across the face. The smack echoed in the room.
The metallic taste of blood filled Aubree's mouth. Her head spun.
Eleonora checked her watch. She sighed, annoyed. "Just grab her."
The two bodyguards stepped forward. They grabbed Aubree by the arms and hauled her up. Her legs were dead weight.
They dragged her out of the bedroom. Her bare feet dragged across the expensive Persian rugs. She didn't even have shoes on.
They shoved her into the private elevator. The sudden drop of the elevator made Aubree's stomach heave. She gagged, fighting the urge to vomit.
In the underground garage, the guards threw her into the back seat of a black Cadillac SUV.
Her forehead slammed against the tinted window. A purple bruise instantly formed. She curled into a tight ball on the leather seat, shivering uncontrollably.
Camilla sat in the front passenger seat. She turned around, lifted her phone, and snapped a photo of Aubree's pathetic state. She typed a message to Dayna.
The SUV sped out of the garage and merged into the Manhattan morning traffic.
The air conditioning in the car was blasting. Aubree was still in her thin, damp silk pajamas. Her teeth chattered.
Thirty minutes later, the SUV slammed on the brakes at the VIP rear entrance of Mount Sinai Hospital.
The guard ripped the door open and dragged Aubree out by her arm.
In the bushes near the entrance, three paparazzi hired by Camilla jumped out. Camera flashes exploded in Aubree's face. Camilla had specifically orchestrated this to capture the narrative of a hysterical, remorseful wife. The guard didn't strike her; instead, he shoved her hard by the shoulders, forcing her to her knees on the rough pavement.
"Look at the camera and show some remorse for what you did to the baby!" Camilla yelled loudly, ensuring the microphones picked up her fabricated outrage. Aubree knelt in the dirt, looking like a broken, deranged woman begging for forgiveness, exactly as Camilla intended.
Eleonora walked up behind her and shoved her forward. Aubree stumbled into the harsh, sterile-smelling hospital corridor.
