Chapter 2

I tried calling Ethan a few times after I was discharged, a temporary reprieve before the rescheduled transplant.

"The marriage license is filed," I wanted to say. "You'll get your certificate soon."

Just to see his reaction.

But his line was always busy, or it went straight to voicemail.

Probably tending to Chloe.

One afternoon, picking up some medical records, I saw them.

Ethan was at Chloe's side in the hospital's private wing, gently adjusting her pillows, his expression tender.

The kind of tenderness he'd never once shown me.

It didn't hurt anymore. It was just... a fact.

Like gravity. Or the sky being blue.

He spotted me as I turned to leave.

"Ava." His voice was sharp, laced with suspicion. "What are you doing here? The transplant isn't for another few days."

He probably thought I was stalking him, or trying to make Chloe uncomfortable.

The old me would have stammered an excuse.

"I just needed to..."

He cut me off. "Chloe needs her rest. Don't upset her."

He gestured dismissively, his eyes cold. "Whatever it is, it can wait. Just be ready for the procedure."

I bit back the words. What was the point?

He wouldn't listen. He never listened.

He was already turning back to Chloe, his focus entirely on her.

Fine. Let him believe what he wanted.

It made my plan easier.

As I walked down the polished hospital corridor, I overheard two nurses talking near the station.

"Mr. Cole is so devoted to Ms. Vance, isn't he?"

"A true love story. He's moved mountains for her treatment."

I almost laughed.

He'd moved me. He'd used me.

I remembered all the grand gestures he'd made for Chloe over the years. Lavish gifts, trips, pulling strings to get her the best doctors.

While I got... the privilege of saving her life.

No more.

My new future was waiting.

That evening, I finalized my application for a transfer to an architectural program in Los Angeles. A fresh start.

A new city, a new life. Far away from the Coles and their toxic orbit.

The next few days were a blur of packing.

My small NYC apartment, the one I'd afforded with a loan from my parents, was filled with seven years of Ethan Cole.

Photos tucked away in albums. Gifts I'd bought for him, never given. Little notes I'd scribbled, dreams of a future that would never be.

I gathered every single item.

Every reminder of my foolish obsession.

I packed them into boxes, labeled "TRASH."

It felt good. Cleansing.

Like shedding a skin I'd outgrown.

The morning of the rescheduled transplant, Ethan showed up at my door.

I was surprised. He usually sent a car.

He saw the boxes stacked by the door.

His brow furrowed. "Moving? Closer to the Cole estate, I presume? Finally being practical."

The arrogance. The sheer, unadulterated arrogance.

I just stared at him.

"Get your things, Ava," he said, his tone brisk. "We need to get to the hospital. Chloe is waiting."

He didn't ask if I was ready. He didn't ask how I was feeling.

Just a command.

As always.