As Carolyn pushed his wheelchair out of the room, Shari touched her cheek, her expression thoughtful.

She knew there was no real Love between them. Carolyn's days were numbered.

She just had to play her cards right to make Sanford drive Carolyn away.

In Skrix, inside an elegant wedding dress studio, Maggie was hunched over her desk, the soft scratch of her pen on paper the only sound.

Before her lay a half-finished sketch, and beside her, the trash could overflowed with crumpled drafts— casualties of her restless mind.

Then again, her pen slipped, leaving an unsalvageable streak across the paper.

She groaned softly, balled up the ruined page, and tossed it into the trash before Leaning back to rub her temples.

Today was a lost cause; her designs refused to come alive.

Instead, her mind circled back, time and again, to Sanford. No matter how much she tried to push him from her mind, his image refused to budge.

For a moment, she sat still, staring at the unfinished sketches. Then, she reached for the glass of water on her desk, taking a slow sip to steady herself.

Her gaze fell on her phone, lying face-up beside the scattered pens. She hesitated for a moment before she set the glass down and reached for the device.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. Rosalynn said to let it go, to focus on work, she reminded herself.

But the nagging need to hear Sanford's voice gnawed at her...

Had he eaten on time? Taken his medicine? Most of all, had he calmed down?

Or was he still caught up in the idea that she might be involved with Karl?

Maggie finally dialed Sanford's number. This time, the call didn't go straight to voicemail.

Her heart skipped as she listened to the ringing. What would he say if he picked up?

After several rings, the line connected.

She heard the faint clink of cutlery in the background but no immediate response. Maggie's grip on the phone tightened. She murmured, "Sanford?"

On the other end, Sanford sat at a grand dining table, surrounded by three impeccably dressed women.

He held his phone with one hand, his fork poised in the other, feeling the stares drill into him.

"Why are you calling me?" His tone was cold and clipped.

Maggie flinched at his icy reception but forced herself to respond quickly.

"I. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."