My husband locked me—seven months pregnant—outdoors and doused me with freezing cold water, finally forcing me to sign a document relinquishing my property rights. The moment I collapsed at his feet, a red warning signal suddenly flashed on my wrist and cameras swiveled in unison toward us, all while Diego remained completely unaware that, forty miles away, my father was watching everything unfold.

Outside, the darkness was absolute, broken only by the dim blue LED lights installed along the edge of the swimming pool.

The mountain wind howled down through the gorge, ripping through Vivian’s light cotton sweater and thin trousers as if they were made of tissue paper. Within thirty seconds, the cold penetrated her skin, seeping deep into her bones, making her teeth chatter violently.

"Help!" Vivian screamed, her voice swallowing by the vast, empty pine forest surrounding the retreat. "Is anyone there?! Help me!"

There was no one. The nearest neighbor sat three miles down the mountain road behind locked security gates.

Vivian wrapped both arms tightly around her swollen abdomen, trying to use her own body heat to shield her baby from the freezing air. Inside her womb, the baby was kicking frantically, its movements erratic, violent, and terrified—sensing the sudden, dramatic drop in its mother’s core temperature.

"Shh... shh, baby, it's okay... Mommy's here," Vivian whimpered, her tears freezing on her eyelashes as they ran down her cheeks.

Her feet were already losing feeling, turning a dull, sickly white against the frost-covered stone. She limped toward the lounge chairs, trying to find a towel or a cushion to wrap around her legs, but everything had been wiped clean and stored away for the winter season.

She returned to the glass slider, pounding her small fist against the heavy pane.

"Diego! Please! I’ll talk to you! Just let me step inside the laundry room! Please!"

Inside, a figure appeared in the dark hallway.

Diego walked back toward the glass. He wasn't carrying a blanket. He wasn't carrying keys. He was holding a sleek, silver water valve key—a tool used to operate the estate’s high-pressure commercial outdoor plumbing system.

He unlocked the slider just wide enough to slip outside, closing it immediately behind him.

He stood six feet away from her on the stone terrace, wearing a heavy down jacket and leather gloves.

"Are you ready to sign?" Diego asked, his voice flat.

"Diego, I’m freezing," Vivian sobbed, dropping to her knees on the frosted stone, her hands clutched together in a plea. "My feet... I can't feel my toes. The baby is kicking so hard it hurts. Please, Diego, just let me sit by the fire for ten minutes..."

Diego’s eyes hardened into two dark slits. "Still arguing? Still playing the victim?"

He turned toward the wall beside the pool house, where a heavy stainless-steel fixture was mounted—an outdoor luxury shower used during the summer months, fed directly from the deep mountain well.

Diego inserted the silver valve key into the wall socket and turned it hard to the left.

CLACK-HISS!

A loud, violent rush of water echoed through the pipes.

"Diego, NO!" Vivian shrieked, realization hitting her like a physical blow. "NO, DIEGO! PLEASE!"

Diego grabbed the heavy brass nozzle attached to a flexible hose on the wall and pointed it directly at her.

"You need to cool off, Vivian," Diego whispered.