Chapter 3

Ava Miller POV

I spent a week in the apartment, nursing the silence like a physical wound.

My hand throbbed beneath the gauze, cut by a broken glass during the chaos in the restroom-a detail Bennett hadn't even noticed. I had bandaged it myself. The physical pain was grounding. It reminded me I was still alive.

But I couldn't hide forever. I had to attend the Art Charity Auction. It was an event I had curated for months, pouring my soul into every detail. Backing out now would raise questions I wasn't ready to answer.

I wore a dress the color of steel. I put on my armor.

When I entered the hall, the air shifted. The ambient chatter seemed to drop a decibel. Everyone knew. Gossip in our circle traveled faster than light.

Bennett and Aria were there, front and center. She was clinging to his arm, her head resting on his shoulder in a display of territorial affection. He looked proud. Protective.

A few old friends approached me, their eyes filled with suffocating pity.

"Kelsey," Sarah whispered, touching my arm. "How are you holding up? It's... shocking."

"Bennett and I are finished," I said. My voice was clear. It didn't tremble. "It was a mutual decision. It's for the best."

Sarah blinked, surprised by my lack of tears. "But you two were... the golden couple. He adored you."

"Life has seasons," I said, taking a measured sip of sparkling water. "Whatever we had was real, but change is also real. I'm ready for what's next."

I felt eyes on me, heavy and expectant. I turned. Bennett was watching.

He was frowning. He expected a scene. He expected the weeping, broken wife. My composure was an insult to his ego.

He started to walk toward me, his jaw set. Aria noticed. She tightened her grip on his arm and whispered something. He stopped, but his eyes never left me.

The auctioneer announced a game to break the tension before the final bidding. A test of "wit and observation."

Of course, Aria's team won. She was young, sharp, and eager to please.

"And for the winner," the host announced, grinning. "You may request a favor from anyone in the room."

The room chuckled. It was meant to be lighthearted.

Aria stood up. She turned slowly, scanning the room until her gaze landed on me.

"Kelsey," she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "You are always so elegant. Would you mind pouring me a glass of champagne? To celebrate our victory?"

The room went deadly silent. The air left the room. It was a power play. A servant's task.

Bennett watched me. He didn't stop her. He wanted to see if I would bend. He wanted to see if he still owned me.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, the humiliation prickling my skin. But I didn't look down. I took a breath.

I picked up a champagne bottle from the passing waiter's tray.

Bennett smirked. He thought he had won.

I didn't walk toward Aria. I turned to Bennett.

"Bennett," I said. My voice carried through the silent room, steady and cold. "You and I no longer have the standing to ask anything of each other. And as for Miss Aria... surely she has her own partner to serve her needs."

I placed the bottle back on the tray with a soft, deliberate clink.

Bennett's face turned a violent shade of red. The smirk vanished. I had publicly rejected his authority. I had declared my independence in front of the people whose opinions he valued most.

He looked furious.

He grabbed Aria by the waist. "You're right," he spat. "She does."

He pulled Aria into a crushing kiss. It wasn't romantic. It was aggressive. It was a performance meant to hurt me.

The crowd gasped, then awkwardly looked away.

Bennett pulled back, breathless. He looked directly at me, his eyes full of venom.

"You are just a bitter woman," he said, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. "You never understood passion. You were always just... cold."

I looked at him, and for the first time, I saw him clearly. He wasn't a king. He was a child throwing a tantrum because his toy had stopped working.

"Passion isn't cruelty, Bennett," I said softly.

But he had already turned his back.