This is a dramatic rewrite of Chapter 7, crafted with a cinematic tone suitable for narration. *** ### Chapter 7: The Forbidden Gaze The air in the study was heavy, sterile, and smelled faintly of expensive mahogany and cold ambition. To Avery, it felt like treading on thin ice. To her surprise, Elliot’s computer was not password-protected. When it hummed to life, the sudden glow of the monitor made her heart skip a frantic beat against her ribs. Time was a luxury she didn't have. With trembling fingers, she plugged in the USB drive, her breath hitching as she logged into her email. The file—her ticket to a flicker of financial independence—uploaded with agonizing slowness before finally sending. It was done. Success. But as she reached to shut the system down, her nerves betrayed her. Her hand slipped, the cursor skittered across the screen, and a stray click tore open a file that was never meant for her eyes. Avery froze. The contents spilled across the monitor, and her pupils dilated in shock. For five long minutes, the world outside ceased to exist. She stared, paralyzed, as she unearthed a darkness Elliot Foster had buried deep within the digital layers of his life. When Avery finally emerged from the study, her face was a mask of ghostly pallor. Mrs. Cooper, waiting anxiously in the hall, let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. "See? I told you, didn’t I? Master Elliot won’t be back for hours. You’re safe." Avery didn't feel safe. She felt like a thief who had accidentally stumbled upon a murder scene. "Mrs. Cooper..." she whispered, her voice brittle. "Are there... are there cameras in there?" "Only one in the hallway, right outside the door," the housekeeper replied. The blood drained from Avery’s lips. "Then he’ll know. He’ll know I was in there." "Just be honest with him when he returns," Mrs. Cooper urged, trying to soothe the girl’s visible tremors. "You weren't in there long. Surely, he won't be moved to anger over a few minutes." A sharp *ping* echoed from Avery’s pocket. She pulled out her phone to see a notification: a wire transfer of three hundred and twenty dollars. In any other circumstance, she would have celebrated. Two hours of work for such a sum was a godsend. For a moment, the sight of the money anchored her, numbing the sharp edge of her anxiety. *It’s okay,* she told herself. *I’ll explain. We’re getting divorced anyway. Soon, his secrets will mean nothing to me.* Retreating to her room after a silent lunch, Avery sat before her vanity. She pressed a hand to her still-flat stomach, her reflection looking back with tired, haunted eyes. "I don’t want to let you go, little one," she whispered to the silence. "But what kind of life can I give you in a house built on shadows?" Exhaustion, heavy and sweet as lead, pulled her into a fitful sleep right there at the table. She was jolted awake hours later by the thunder of frantic footsteps. The door burst open, slamming against the wall. "Madam!" Mrs. Cooper’s voice was high with panic. "Did you touch something? Something on Master Elliot’s computer?" Avery’s heart plummeted into her stomach. "Is he home? Did he find out?" "He’s in a blind rage!" Mrs. Cooper cried, wringing her hands. "He says you looked at things you shouldn't have. He’s throwing a fit in the study... oh, heavens, I don’t know how to protect you from this!" Avery felt a cold sweat break out. She wasn't just in trouble; she was staring into the abyss. She feared that before the divorce papers were signed, Elliot Foster might actually kill her. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Cooper," Avery sobbed, the tears finally breaking through. "I didn't mean to. My hand shook... it was an accident. I only saw it for a second!" But apologies were useless now. Avery knew she couldn't let the kind housekeeper take the fall. Steeling herself, she walked out of the room to face the monster in the chair. The elevator doors at the end of the hall hissed open. A bodyguard emerged, pushing Elliot’s wheelchair. The atmosphere in the hallway turned arctic instantly. Elliot’s silhouette was rigid, his expression a mask of terrifying, suppressed violence. His eyes, usually cold, were now burning with a low, demonic red light. "I'm sorry, Elliot," Avery said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "My laptop broke. I was desperate. Mrs. Cooper tried to stop me, but I didn't listen. It’s all on me." The wheelchair came to a halt in the center of the living room. Elliot’s knuckles were white where they gripped the armrests. He looked like a predator trapped in a cage, vibrating with the urge to strike. "You saw everything, didn't you?" His voice was a low, guttural rasp that made the hair on Avery's neck stand up. "I... I barely remember it," she lied, her voice trembling. "It was a mistake. I was nervous, I clicked the wrong thing—" "SHUT UP!" Elliot’s roar shattered the tension like glass. He looked at her with such pure, unadulterated loathing that Avery felt her breath leave her lungs. "Go to your room. Do not take a single step out of it until the day we sign those papers." Avery didn't wait for a second command. She fled. As the door clicked shut behind her, Elliot turned his icy gaze toward Mrs. Cooper. The air was thick with his malice. "No meals," he commanded, his voice devoid of humanity. "She gets nothing." He was going to starve her out. He was going to turn her room into a prison. *** Two days passed in a blur of hunger and silence. Inside her room, Avery grew weak, the shadows of the walls closing in on her. On the third day, the heavy front doors of the mansion swung open. Rosalie Foster, Elliot’s mother, entered with a radiant smile, fresh from her stint in the hospital. "Elliot, my dear! How are you feeling?" Rosalie chirped, walking toward her son. "What does the doctor say? When will you be walking again?" Elliot’s expression softened, but only marginally. "The recovery is going well, Mother. But we need to discuss something. My marriage." Rosalie’s smile faltered. "The marriage? But Avery is such a lovely girl. I chose her myself. Speaking of which... where is she? You haven't chased her off, have you?" Elliot didn't answer. Instead, he gave a sharp nod to Mrs. Cooper. The housekeeper turned toward the hallway, her heart heavy with dread. It had been forty-eight hours since Avery had tasted a drop of water or a crumb of food. She wondered, with a sinking feeling, if the girl behind the locked door was even still conscious.