Chapter 3 3

The next day, Ethan was all apologies and attentive gestures.

"Let me make it up to you," he said, his voice earnest. "We'll go out, anywhere you want."

Ava let him. It was easier than arguing, easier than explaining the chasm that had opened up between them.

They walked through a street market in SoHo. Months ago, Ava had paused by a small boutique window, admiring a vintage designer scarf, a swirl of blues and greens. She'd mentioned it casually, never expecting him to remember.

During their outing, Ethan took a call. Ava watched him, his expression animated as he spoke in low tones. When he hung up, he smiled at her, a secretive, pleased smile.

"Just taking care of something," he said.

Later that evening, a courier delivered a small, elegantly wrapped box. Inside was the scarf.

Ava stared at it. He'd remembered this. This expensive, trivial thing.

But he'd forgotten her birthday. He'd forgotten it because Chloe Davis was back in his orbit, consuming his thoughts, his attention. The scarf felt like a performance, a carefully chosen prop to prove he was still capable of affection.

"Hey," Ethan said a few days later, an impulsive energy about him. "There's this party tonight. A friend of mine, rich guy, throws these insane bashes in the Hamptons. You should come. It's time you met my circle."

Ava was surprised. Ethan had always kept her separate from his wealthier, more connected friends. It was another unspoken rule of their relationship.

"Why now?" she asked.

"Why not?" he countered, already pulling out clothes. "It'll be fun."

Ava hesitated, a sense of unease prickling her skin. But a small, perverse part of her was curious.

And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to see.

The Hamptons house was obscene, a sprawling mansion overlooking the ocean. Music pulsed, champagne flowed, and beautiful people mingled with an air of casual entitlement.

Ava felt out of place, a small, quiet observer in a world of loud, glittering surfaces.

And then Chloe Davis made her entrance.

She was exactly as Ava had imagined, and somehow, more. Tall, effortlessly chic in a way that screamed Parisian nonchalance, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She moved through the crowd like she owned it, her laughter bright and commanding.

Ethan saw her, and for a moment, he froze. Just for a second. Then his face broke into a wide, unguarded smile.

Chloe glided towards them. Her eyes, a startling shade of green, flicked over Ava, a cool, assessing gaze.

She smiled, a slow, deliberate smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Ethan, darling," she purred, then turned to Ava. "And you must be Ava."

Her gaze lingered on Ava's face, her hair, her dress.

"It's uncanny, isn't it?" Chloe said, her voice laced with a sweetness that felt dangerous. "We could almost be sisters."