Chapter 1

The prison gates clanked shut behind Ava Rodriguez.

Seven years.

The California sun felt alien on her skin, too bright, too warm.

She walked to the bus stop, her release papers a thin weight in her worn handbag.

Her first stop was not a shelter, not a plea for help.

It was a small, dusty internet cafe.

Ava sat, her hands trembling slightly as she typed.

"Private plane ash scattering Redwood National Park cost."

The search results swam before her eyes.

Thousands of dollars.

A bitter smile touched her lips. Even dying had a price.

Redwood National Park.

A memory flickered: Liam, his arm around her, the towering trees ancient sentinels above them.

"We'll build a cabin here, Ava," he'd whispered, his voice full of dreams. "Our forever place."

Forever had lasted until a rainy night, screeching tires, and a life extinguished.

And Olivia Hayes, Liam's younger sister, drunk behind the wheel.

Ava had been in the passenger seat.

The Hayes family, powerful, influential, had needed a scapegoat to protect Olivia's budding political career.

Ava, loyal, loving Liam, had become that scapegoat.

Now, leukemia gnawed at her. Stage four.

The prison doctor's words echoed: "A few months, Ms. Rodriguez. I'm sorry."

Sorry.

Ava needed that money for the Redwoods. It was the only thing left she wanted.

Her criminal record was a dead end for most jobs.

But she found one: a server at "Nocturne," an exclusive Los Angeles supper club.

A place for the rich, the powerful, the discreet.

Her first shift. The black uniform felt stiff, unfamiliar.

The low lights of Nocturne hummed with conversations and clinking glasses.

Ava moved through the tables, a ghost in her own life.

Then she heard it. A laugh.

Deep, familiar, a sound that twisted something cold in her gut.

She froze, a tray of champagne flutes balanced precariously.

Liam Hayes.

He sat at a prominent table, older, sharper, his tailored suit screaming wealth.

His eyes, once warm for her, were now glacial.

He was looking right at her. Shock flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a mask of cold fury.

Next to him, a woman with sleek black hair and a knowing smile.

Jessica "Jess" Chen.

Ava's college roommate. Her best friend.

Now, Liam's fiancée. Jess's hand rested possessively on Liam's arm.

Jess saw Ava. Her smile widened, a predatory glint in her eyes.

"Well, well," Jess said, her voice carrying across the hushed room. "Look who it is."

A few heads turned. Former "friends," part of Liam and Jess's elite circle, whispered.

Ava felt their stares, hot and judgmental.

Seven years ago, they had all condemned her.

The drunk driver. The killer.

Liam believed it. He believed she'd killed an innocent pedestrian – an aide to a political rival of his father, Senator Hayes, making the cover-up even more critical for the family.

He believed she'd destroyed his family's image, his future, their future.

His rage was a palpable force, even from across the room.

Jess leaned towards Liam, whispering something. He nodded, his eyes never leaving Ava.

A server nearby stumbled, a glass of red wine arcing through the air.

It splashed onto the pristine white tablecloth near Liam's table, a stain spreading like blood.

Jess gasped dramatically. "Oh, dear! Such a mess."

Liam's voice cut through the murmurs, cold and sharp.

"You," he said, his gaze fixed on Ava. "Clean it up."

Ava stood rooted, the tray heavy in her hands.

Other staff members looked on, uncertain.

"Now," Liam commanded.

Jess smirked.

Ava's jaw tightened. She needed this job. She needed the money.

She put down her tray.

She walked to the table.

A manager hurried over. "Mr. Hayes, we can handle this."

"No," Liam said, his eyes burning into Ava. "She will."

He wanted to see her humiliated. He wanted her to suffer, just as he believed he had suffered.

Ava knelt.

The plush carpet was cold beneath her knees.

She picked up a napkin, her movements slow, deliberate.

The spilled wine. The eyes of the room on her.

Liam watched, his face a mask of contempt. He saw her desperation, her willingness to demean herself.

To him, it was just more proof of her guilt, her fallen character.

Ava wiped at the stain, her face impassive.

Inside, a quiet dignity fought against the crushing weight of her pain.

She had taken the fall for his sister.

She was dying.

And this was her penance, orchestrated by the man she still, despite everything, loved.

The wine was a deep, accusing red on the white cloth.

She finished cleaning, her hands stained.

She rose slowly, her back aching.

Liam stared at her, his expression unreadable now, a flicker of something dark and complex in his eyes.

Jess watched, triumphant.

Ava picked up her tray and walked away, the whispers following her like shadows.

Her shift continued, each moment an exercise in stoic endurance.

She served them, Liam and Jess, their laughter a counterpoint to her silent misery.

She saw their casual touches, their shared smiles.

Each one a fresh stab of pain.

But the image of the Redwoods, of her ashes scattered in the wind, kept her moving.

It was the only thing that mattered.