Chapter 1

The air in the grand hall of the Auer Conservatory buzzed, a thick hum of expensive perfume, muted orchestra tuning, and the low murmur of New York's elite.

Ava Davies clutched her violin case, the worn leather a stark contrast to the glittering gowns and sharp tuxedos around her.

This was the annual fundraising gala, a night meant to celebrate music, but for Ava, it mostly celebrated money and connections she didn't have.

Her scholarship felt like a brand, singling her out.

Ethan Montgomery, however, was her anchor. He stood beside her, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, a gesture of easy possession.

He was a trustee, young, powerful, from a family whose name was etched onto buildings. And he was, impossibly, hers. Or so she believed.

"Relax," Ethan murmured, his voice smooth as the champagne flowing freely. "You belong here, Ava."

She offered a small smile, wanting to believe him. But then she saw her stepsister, Seraphina Vance, gliding through the crowd.

Seraphina, a pianist whose talent was eclipsed only by her popularity and her disdain for Ava. Their eyes met, and Seraphina's lip curled just slightly before she turned away, a silent dismissal that stung.

Ava's stepfather, Arthur Vance, Seraphina's father, beamed at his daughter, oblivious or uncaring of the tension. He always prioritized the family's perfect image.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed. A hush fell. The large screen above the stage, meant for donor acknowledgements, flickered to life.

Not with names, but with a grainy, private video.

Ava's breath hitched. It was her. An intimate moment, a bedroom scene. The audio was faint, but the visuals were undeniable. And the man, silhouetted but familiar in build, was clearly meant to be Ethan.

A collective gasp rippled through the hall. Phones lit up, recording the screen, recording Ava's face as blood drained from it. Her violin case slipped from her numb fingers, clattering onto the polished marble floor. The sound was deafening in the sudden, horrified silence.

Then the whispers started, insidious and cruel.

"Is that... Ava Davies?"

"The scholarship girl?"

"With Trustee Montgomery? How scandalous!"

Laughter, sharp and mocking, erupted from a corner where Ethan's friends, Chad and Bryce, stood. Their faces were alight with malicious glee.

The video played on, a loop of her deepest humiliation.

Ava felt rooted to the spot, her body trembling, shame burning her from the inside out. She wanted the floor to swallow her. Where was Ethan? He had been right beside her. She scanned the crowd, desperate. He was gone.

She had to find him. He would know what to do. He would fix this. He always fixed things.

She stumbled through the throng, faces blurring, voices a cacophony of judgment.

"Shameless."

"Using her body to get ahead."

"Just like her mother, I heard."

The mention of her mother, whose own career had been derailed by a scandal, was a fresh stab of pain.

Ava pushed open a heavy oak door, seeking refuge, seeking Ethan.

She found herself in a less crowded corridor leading to the private donor lounges. She needed a moment, just a moment to breathe, to think. Her hands fumbled in her clutch for the small, half-finished scarf she was knitting for Ethan.

A silly, heartfelt gift. The repetitive motion of the needles usually calmed her.

She sank onto a velvet bench in a dimly lit alcove, her fingers working automatically. Then she heard voices from the adjoining lounge, the door slightly ajar. Ethan's voice. And Chad's, and Bryce's.

"...perfectly executed, man," Chad was saying, his tone smug. "She looked like she'd seen a ghost."

"Did you see her drop her violin?" Bryce snickered. "Priceless."

Ethan chuckled, a low, cold sound that bore no resemblance to the warm laugh Ava knew. "She needed to be taught a lesson. Stealing that soloist spot from Seraphina two years ago... Seraphina's never gotten over it. This is just a little payback."

Ava's knitting needles stilled. Her blood ran cold. Soloist spot? Payback? For Seraphina?

"So, this whole thing, dating her, playing the hero... all an act?" Chad asked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"An amusing diversion," Ethan replied, his voice dripping with contempt. "Seraphina wanted her humiliated, and I always look out for Seraphina. Besides, the girl's far too trusting. It was almost too easy."

"What about the video? Who actually leaked it?" Bryce pressed.

"Let's just say it was a collaborative effort," Ethan said smoothly. "The point is, message delivered."

A collaborative effort. His words echoed in the sudden, roaring silence of Ava's mind. The man she loved, the man she trusted, had orchestrated her public ruin. For Seraphina. Because of a competition two years ago she'd barely remembered winning.

The door to the lounge swung open wider, and Ethan stepped out, his friends trailing him. He stopped short when he saw Ava. His eyes, moments ago cold and calculating, widened in feigned surprise, then softened with concern.

"Ava! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you. Are you alright? What happened back there was despicable!"

He rushed to her side, his arm going around her shoulders protectively. Chad and Bryce smirked behind him.

"Don't listen to them, Ava," Ethan said, his voice a soothing balm, the one she had always trusted. He glared at some lingering onlookers who quickly averted their gazes. "I'll handle this. I'll find out who did this to you."

His touch felt like ice against her skin. His words were a grotesque parody of comfort.

Her mind flashed back. Six months ago, when a notoriously difficult professor had tried to fail her on a technicality, threatening her scholarship.

Ethan had swept in, a charming benefactor, a powerful trustee, and "sorted it out."

He'd taken her to dinner afterwards, told her she was too talented to be held back by petty academic politics.

He'd made her feel safe, seen, cherished. He'd been her hero.

She remembered thinking then, he's like a bird finding a nest for me, a safe place.

Now, the nest was revealed as a meticulously constructed trap.

The warmth of his arm around her was a lie. His concerned gaze was a lie. Everything was a lie.

She was trapped. Utterly and completely trapped by the man who was now leading her through the stunned onlookers, his voice a low, protective murmur against her hair, a public display of a love that was nothing but a cruel, calculated game.