Chapter 2

The air in Nocturne grew thick with expensive perfume and unspoken cruelties.

Ava moved like an automaton, serving drinks, clearing plates.

Her eyes carefully avoided Liam's table, but she felt his gaze on her, a constant, burning pressure.

She could hear Jess's light laughter, Liam's deeper responses.

Intimate. Easy.

A life Ava once dreamed of, now paraded before her.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back. Numbness was a shield.

"Server!"

Liam's voice, sharp, imperious.

Ava turned, her face carefully blank.

He beckoned her over. Jess watched, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"More champagne," Liam ordered, not looking at her, as if she were part of the furniture.

Ava nodded, fetched the bottle, her hands steady despite the turmoil inside.

She poured for him, then for Jess.

"And another for me," Jess said, her eyes meeting Ava's, full of malicious amusement. "Make sure it's perfectly chilled this time."

Ava inclined her head, a silent acknowledgment.

As she turned to leave, Jess spoke again, her voice deceptively sweet.

"Ava, dear, you look so tired. Prison must have been terribly hard on you."

The surrounding tables quieted. All eyes were on Ava.

Liam said nothing, his face a cold mask.

"I manage," Ava said, her voice low and even.

"Still," Jess continued, "it's brave of you to show your face in a place like this. After everything."

The implication hung heavy in the air.

Ava simply nodded again and walked away.

Later, as she cleared a nearby table, she heard Liam talking to Jess, his voice carrying.

"The wedding plans are moving forward. The St. Regis, as we discussed. Father is handling the guest list."

Ava's breath caught. St. Regis. That had been *their* place.

The place she and Liam had talked about for their own wedding, years ago, in hushed, excited whispers.

He was erasing her, piece by piece, memory by memory.

The shift finally ended.

Ava collected her meager tips, her body aching, her spirit bruised.

As she was leaving, Liam stopped her by the service exit. Jess was not with him.

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

"You need money, don't you?" he stated, not a question.

Ava met his gaze, her chin up. "I have a job."

"This?" He gestured dismissively at the club. "This won't be enough for whatever hole you've crawled out of."

His words were like ice.

"I have a proposition for you," he continued, his voice dangerously soft.

Ava waited, her heart thudding.

"I need a personal attendant for Jess and myself. Various social events. Parties. You'll be... visible."

He wanted to parade her shame. To make her a public spectacle of his "forgiveness" or his power.

"The pay will be substantial," he added, watching her reaction. "Enough to solve your problems, I imagine."

Ava thought of the Redwoods. The cost of the plane.

This was a deal with the devil, but a devil who held the keys to her final wish.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Consider it... an opportunity for you to atone. Or perhaps I just enjoy the irony."

He wanted to punish her. To control her. To keep her close, a constant reminder of his pain.

Ava looked at his handsome face, once so full of love for her, now twisted by bitterness.

"I'll do it," she said.

A dark satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

He reached into his wallet, pulled out a thick wad of cash, and pressed it into her hand.

"Your first payment. Be at my office tomorrow. Nine a.m. Marcus will brief you."

Marcus Vance. Liam's head of security, his loyal shadow.

Ava clutched the money, the paper crinkling in her palm.

It felt like blood money. Her blood.

Liam turned and walked away without another word.

Ava watched him go, a profound weariness settling over her.

She was selling her dignity, her peace, for a scattering of ashes in a forest.

It seemed a fair trade. She had nothing else left to lose.

She walked out into the cool night air, the city lights blurring around her.

Her final wish. That was all that mattered.

She would endure.