Chapter 3

Ava twisted the brass doorknob hard. The heavy mahogany door scraped against the floorboards with a loud, grating screech.

The voices in the hallway stopped instantly. Warren, Jocelyn, and Cristin turned their heads.

Ava stood in the doorway. She wore a thin silk nightgown. Her bare feet were planted firmly on the oak floorboards. A streak of fresh blood stained the back of her left hand. Her face was pale from the fever, but her eyes were entirely devoid of warmth.

"Ava!" Jocelyn gasped. She rushed forward, pulling a cashmere shawl from her own shoulders to wrap around Ava.

Ava raised her right hand and gently pushed her mother's arm away. She looked Jocelyn in the eye, her gaze steady and commanding. Jocelyn froze, her breath catching in her throat. A sudden, chilling wave of unfamiliarity washed over her. She stared into Ava's dark, unwavering pupils, her maternal instincts screaming in confusion. Is this really my Ava? Jocelyn thought, her heart pounding against her ribs. That look... she looks like a stranger. Like a predator. She was startled, deeply unnerved by the sheer weight in her daughter's stare.

"You are sick, Ava," Warren barked. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Get back in bed. This is adult business."

Cristin stepped forward. She stretched her lips into a wide, sweet smile. She reached out to grab Ava's forearm. "Oh, sweetie, you look terrible. Let me help you back to-"

"Don't touch me," Ava said. Her voice was low, flat, and completely steady.

Cristin's hand stopped in mid-air. Her smile faltered. She stared at Ava, her eyes wide with confusion.

Ava walked past her. She stepped up to the walnut console table. She picked up the thick stack of legal documents Warren had slammed down earlier.

She flipped through the first three pages. Her eyes scanned the dense legal text. The corner of her mouth twitched upward in a cold smirk.

She dropped the papers back onto the table.

"This contract is completely useless even if Mom signs it," Ava said. Her voice was devoid of the usual teenage insecurity, replaced by a razor-sharp clarity. "You know exactly how Grandpa set up the trust. No money moves without the permission of the first-in-line heir. That is me. My mother's signature on this document means absolutely nothing, right, Uncle Warren?"

Warren's face lost its color. His jaw went slack. He stared at the fifteen-year-old girl who was supposed to be failing her high school math classes.

"The liquidity issue isn't real," Ava continued, taking a step toward him. "You diverted fourteen million from the operational accounts to cover your losses in the Cayman Islands. You need this merger to fill the hole before the quarterly audit."

Warren's face flushed deep red. The veins in his neck bulged. "You are delirious! The fever has cooked your brain!"

Ava did not blink. She stepped closer, invading his personal space. "Force her to sign it. Do it. Tomorrow morning, I will personally hand-deliver a request for a full forensic audit to the SEC."

Warren let out a harsh, mocking laugh, though his eyes darted nervously. "You think the SEC will listen to a child's nonsense? You have no proof. This is defamation, Ava, and I won't stand for it!"

"August 12th, four million to a shell company in Grand Cayman," Ava recited, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "September 3rd, another six million masked as consulting fees. You want me to keep going?"

The specific dates and amounts hit Warren like a physical punch. His chest stopped heaving. He realized the girl standing in front of him was not guessing. She knew the exact numbers.

"Without the Texas capital, the family gala this weekend will be a humiliating disaster," Warren hissed through his teeth. "We have vendors threatening to walk."

Ava reached out, grabbed the stack of documents, and ripped them in half. The thick paper tore with a loud, satisfying rip. She dropped the pieces into the woven wastebasket next to the table.

"I will attend the gala," Ava said. "I will handle the vendors."

"You?" Warren sneered. "With what money?"

Ava tilted her chin up. "I don't need money. I need Grandpa Conrad. He will attend the gala with me."

Warren and Cristin both stiffened. The mention of Conrad Bridges shifted the power dynamic entirely.

"He is too ill to leave the sanatorium," Warren said quickly.

"If he doesn't show up, I call an emergency board meeting and initiate impeachment proceedings against you," Ava said.

Warren stared at her. He had no leverage left. The legal trap was locked. He spun around, his heavy footsteps pounding against the floorboards as he headed for the stairs. "You are playing with fire, Ava."

Ava smiled. "I know." She watched him disappear down the staircase.