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

The two bodyguards stood like brick walls in front of the double doors, completely cutting off Evelyn's exit. Evelyn stopped. She turned around slowly. Her eyes were like daggers as they locked onto Camila, who was walking up behind her. Camila stopped a few feet away. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her chin tilted up in arrogance. "Open the suitcase. We need to inspect it." "I am taking my own clothes," Evelyn said, her voice tight. "I have to ensure you aren't smuggling out any Harrison family assets or confidential documents," Camila replied. Evelyn sucked in a sharp breath. Her chest burned with the effort to keep her anger contained. She let go of the suitcase handle and took a step back. She gestured toward the bag with an open palm. "Be my guest." Camila crouched down. She yanked the zipper open roughly. She dug her manicured hands into the neatly folded sweaters, tossing them aside and messing up the entire contents. Then, she reached out and snatched the tarnished silver necklace from Evelyn’s coat pocket. She inspected the clasp, realized it was worthless junk, and tossed it back onto the pile of clothes with a sneer. Then, Camila stood up. Her eyes fell on the black hardcover notebook that Evelyn was clutching tightly against her chest. "Hand over the notebook," Camila demanded. Evelyn's heart slammed against her ribs. Her fingers dug into the leather cover. This was the core of Aura Beauty. "No," Evelyn said coldly. "This is my personal diary. It has nothing to do with the Harrisons." Camila let out a dry laugh. She flicked her eyes to the bodyguard on the left. The massive man stepped forward, grabbed Evelyn's wrist, and forcefully ripped the notebook out of her arms. The sudden violent pull threw Evelyn off balance. She stumbled sideways, her shoulder slamming hard into the drywall of the entryway. A sharp, familiar cramp bloomed in her lower abdomen, making her breath hitch in terror. Camila took the notebook from the guard. She flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the pages filled with complex chemical formulas, molecular structures, and botanical extraction ratios. Because Camila’s expertise lay in ironclad contracts rather than science, the advanced cosmetic chemistry looked like absolute gibberish to her. She dismissed the complex notations as nothing more than a pathetic collection of cooking recipes or DIY skincare notes. Camila scoffed loudly. She tossed the notebook back at Evelyn like it was a piece of trash. The heavy book hit Evelyn in the chest and fell to the hardwood floor. Evelyn crouched down immediately. She picked it up carefully, brushing an invisible speck of dust from the cover. Camila clapped her hands together, signaling the end of the search. "You can take your garbage and leave now." Evelyn knelt on the floor and zipped her suitcase back up. She stood tall. She didn't say a single word to Camila. She grabbed the handle and walked out the front door. She stepped into the elevator. She watched the stainless-steel doors slide shut, finally sealing off the prison she had lived in for three years. As the elevator descended, Evelyn pulled her phone from her pocket. She dialed Elliot Thorne's number. He answered on the first ring. "Evelyn?" His deep voice was immediately laced with concern. "Come get me. I’m at the penthouse," Evelyn said. Her voice cracked, just once. Evelyn walked out of the lobby. The sky above Manhattan had turned a bruised, dark gray. A freezing, steady rain was falling. She stood under the narrow awning of the building. The biting wind whipped the cold rain against her thin trench coat. She shivered violently, her teeth chattering. The biting cold seeped into her bones, and a dull, rhythmic throb began to pulse in her womb—a grim reminder of the doctor’s warning. The doorman watched her through the glass, his eyes full of pity, but company policy kept him inside. Evelyn positioned her suitcase to block the wind. She wrapped her arms around herself, counting the minutes until Elliot would arrive. Half an hour later, what felt like an absolute eternity to Evelyn, a black, armored Maybach tore through the rain and slammed on its brakes right at the curb in front of the building. During those agonizing thirty minutes, the biting wind had completely soaked through her thin coat, freezing her to the bone while passing pedestrians cast pitying glances at her shivering frame. The rear door flew open. Elliot Thorne, dressed in a bespoke black suit, stepped out. He popped open a massive black umbrella and took the stairs two at a time. Elliot reached her. He tilted the massive umbrella entirely over Evelyn's head, completely exposing his own broad shoulders to the freezing downpour.