Chapter 2

Ava retreated to her small suite of rooms in the vast Davenport mansion. It was her only sanctuary.

Here, hidden away, was the locked wooden box. She opened it.

Liam's smiling face looked up at her from a faded photograph. His letters, tied with a ribbon, smelled faintly of his cologne, or maybe just her memory of it.

She touched the simple silver promise ring she wore on a chain. "Soon, Liam," she whispered, her voice thick. "Soon, this will all be over. I'll find a quiet place. Just for us."

She would live out her days in peace, dedicated to his memory. That was the only future she could imagine, the only one she wanted.

The next evening, a familiar, unwelcome presence shattered the tense calm of the Davenport household.

Chloe Carter, Ethan's old flame, the woman who had broken his heart and inadvertently triggered his medical crisis, walked back into his life as if she'd never left.

She was beautiful, impeccably dressed, her smile a carefully crafted weapon.

Ethan, who had been brooding by the fireplace, lit up like a Christmas tree. "Chloe!"

He rushed to her, engulfing her in a hug. Ava stood frozen in the doorway, a tray with Ethan's evening medication in her hands.

Ethan turned, his arm still around Chloe's waist. He barely glanced at Ava. "Oh, Ava. This is Chloe. Chloe, this is... Ava. She helps out around here."

"Helps out?" Chloe's perfectly plucked eyebrow rose. She looked Ava up and down, a slow, dismissive appraisal. "How... domestic."

Ava's grip tightened on the tray. She met Chloe's gaze, a faint, ironic smile touching her lips. "I am Ethan's wife, Ms. Carter. Though I understand the confusion. It's been a while since he's required my wifely duties beyond ensuring his... schedule runs smoothly."

Ethan scowled. "Don't be difficult, Ava." He turned back to Chloe, his voice softening. "She's just... you know."

Chloe's eyes flickered to Ava's left hand, then to the delicate chain around her neck where the ring lay hidden. Ava felt a prickle of unease.

"It's lovely to finally meet you, Ava," Chloe said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Ethan has told me so much about... well, about how things are." She leaned into Ethan, her hand possessively on his arm. "We have so much catching up to do."

"We do," Ethan said, beaming. He looked at Chloe with an adoration Ava had never seen directed at herself. "It's like you never left."

He led Chloe towards the grand living room, already deep in conversation, leaving Ava standing alone, the medication tray suddenly heavy.

The sounds of their laughter, Ethan's eager voice, Chloe's musical replies, drifted back to her.

Later that night, the sounds were different. Muffled laughter, whispers, then the unmistakable rhythm of the headboard from Ethan's bedroom hitting the wall.

Ava lay in her own cold bed, staring at the ceiling, Buddy, Liam's Golden Retriever, whimpering softly beside her. She put her hands over her ears, but it was no use.

The world had taken everything. Now it was just rubbing salt in the wounds.

Just as she was drifting into a restless sleep, her door burst open.

Ethan stood there, silhouetted by the hallway light, a robe hastily thrown on.

"Ava," he snapped. "Chloe wants champagne. The good stuff. And those little chocolate things she likes. Go get them."

It was two in the morning.

Ava sat up. For five years, she had complied. For five years, she had been the dutiful, silent wife. But something inside her, something worn thin by years of abuse and the fresh sting of Chloe's arrival, finally snapped.

"No," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Ethan stared at her, dumbfounded. "What did you say?"

"I said no, Ethan. It's late. And I am not your servant." Her heart hammered, but her resolve held. The end was in sight. She didn't need to be his doormat anymore.

He strode towards her, his face contorted with anger. "Not my servant? You're my wife! You do what I tell you! Or have you forgotten who pays for your pathetic family's existence?"

He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging in. "Have you forgotten the contract?"

The contract. Always the contract.

"I haven't forgotten anything, Ethan," Ava said, pulling her arm free. The pain was a dull ache compared to the constant throb in her heart. "Especially not that it expires in less than three months."

His eyes narrowed. "You think you can just walk away?"

"I know I can," she said.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. He wanted to hit her; she could see it. But something, perhaps the lateness of the hour or a flicker of surprise at her defiance, made him hesitate.

He sneered. "Fine. Stay here and sulk. I'll get it myself."

He stormed out, slamming the door.

Ava sank back against the pillows, trembling slightly. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

She looked at the picture of Liam on her nightstand. "Almost there," she whispered.

She would endure. For him. For herself. For the peace that awaited her.

A few minutes later, she heard Ethan returning, the clink of glasses, Chloe's delighted laughter from his room.

Ava closed her eyes, pulling Buddy closer. The damp, cold cellar of her despair felt a little less suffocating tonight. She had spoken. She had said no.