My Terminal Diagnosis, His Cruel Divorce

The underground private club in Manhattan was a sensory overload of heavy bass and expensive perfume. Adaline sat at the dimly lit bar, wearing a black velvet dress that exposed her shoulder blades. She lifted a shot of tequila and swallowed it in one go. The spicy liquid burned a path down her throat, irritating her fragile stomach lining, but the physical burn was a welcome distraction.

A few young Asian executives from Wall Street whispered nearby, their eyes scanning her like prey. Adaline ignored them. A man in a tailored suit approached and offered to buy her next drink. She gave him a cold look and shook her head. She stood up, her head spinning slightly, and walked toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.

As she passed the staircase, a muffled crash of glass from a VIP room on the second floor stopped her in her tracks. A low curse followed.

Adaline's heart slammed against her ribs. It was Gerard's voice.

She crept up the stairs and moved quietly down the carpeted hallway. She stopped outside the heavy door of the VIP room. It was slightly cracked open. She peeked through the narrow gap.

Gerard was slumped against a leather sofa. He was pulling at his tie, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. His face was flushed red, and sweat dripped down his temples.

Sitting across from him was Frederick Whitney, his biggest rival in the corporate sector. Frederick was smiling. "That whiskey should hit your bloodstream any second now, Gerard. Let us see how the board reacts when the photos of you and the girls get leaked tomorrow morning."

Adaline's blood ran cold. Gerard had been drugged. Frederick was setting up a trap to ruin his reputation and steal the upcoming merger deal.

Her first instinct was to call the police. But she stopped. If the police raided this club, the scandal would still hit the news. The Crosby family stock would plummet at the opening bell.

Frederick stood up and walked toward the door. "I will go get the entertainment ready."

Adaline quickly stepped back and pressed herself into the dark shadows of an alcove. Frederick walked past her without noticing, heading toward the back stairs.

The second he was gone, Adaline rushed to the VIP room door, slipped inside, and locked it behind her.

Gerard's eyes were bloodshot. He could not focus his vision. He let out a low, furious growl like a trapped animal. "Get the hell out of here."

Adaline ran to him. She clamped her hand over his mouth. "Be quiet. I am getting you out of here."

Gerard struggled, but then he stopped. He inhaled deeply. The familiar scent of cedar mixed with tequila filled his senses. The violent rage in his body quieted for a fraction of a second.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. High heels clicking against the floorboards. Frederick was coming back with the women.

Adaline grabbed Gerard's arm and pulled him up. He was incredibly heavy. She dragged him toward the back of the room and pushed open the concealed staff door that she knew led to the service corridors.

They stumbled into the narrow, unlit hallway. Gerard's body heat was terrifying. He felt like he was burning alive from the inside out. He leaned heavily against Adaline, almost crushing her against the concrete wall.

The drug took full control. Gerard lost all sense of reality. He slammed Adaline against the cold wall, pinning her in place.

His hot mouth crashed down against her neck. His kisses were frantic, messy, and driven by pure chemical need. He let out a ragged, painful breath against her skin.

Adaline's heart hammered in her chest. She pushed against his solid chest. "Gerard, stop. Wake up."

He did not hear her. His strength was overwhelming. He grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. His eyes were completely dark, filled with a primal need to consume.

He reached for the neckline of her dress. Just as his fingers hooked into the fabric, the heavy metal security door at the end of the hall groaned open. A beam from a flashlight swept across the floor.

Adaline panicked. She leaned forward and bit down hard on Gerard's shoulder.

Gerard flinched. The sharp pain pierced through the fog in his brain just enough to make him loosen his grip.

Adaline grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the exit door before the security guard could spot them. They burst out into the underground parking garage that connected the club to The Obsidian Hotel next door.

She pulled out her keys, planning to shove him into her Porsche. But Gerard suddenly collapsed against the hood of a parked car. He curled into a tight ball, clutching his chest. The drug was pushing his heart rate to a dangerous limit.

She could not drive him like this. He needed to lie down immediately. Adaline dragged him toward the private elevator reserved for hotel VIPs. The Obsidian was a flagship property under the Crosby empire, and as the CEO's wife, her black card granted her emergency access to any vacant room. She pulled it out and swiped it. The doors opened, and she hauled him inside. She pressed the button for the penthouse suite, knowing it was kept strictly off the public registry for their family's private use.

The elevator shot upward. The sudden shift in gravity made Gerard sicker. He wrapped his arms around Adaline, burying his face in her neck, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

The doors dinged open. Adaline dragged him down the silent hallway and pushed open the door to the massive Obsidian suite. She kicked the door shut behind them.

Before she could even reach for the light switch, Gerard moved. He spun her around and pushed her hard against the thick carpet. The drug completely erased the last of his restraint. The room was pitch black, and there was no escape.