Chapter 3

Ava watched Ethan with Chloe. He doted on her. His eyes, when he looked at Chloe, held a genuine warmth Ava now realized had always been faked for her. The casual intimacy between them, the shared jokes, the easy laughter – it was all a performance for Ava' s benefit, a cruel show of what she could never truly have, and what Chloe possessed so effortlessly. The hypocrisy was a fresh stab of pain, deeper than any physical injury.

At dinner that night, Ethan personally made sure Chloe' s plate was filled with her favorite foods, things he' d "remembered" she loved from their childhood. He even cut her steak for her, a gesture of attentiveness he' d never once shown Ava.

Ava sat in her wheelchair, a silent observer at the lavish table, picking at her food. Each glance, each shared smile between Ethan and Chloe, was another twist of the knife in her already bleeding heart. She felt a profound sense of isolation.

After dinner, Ethan escorted Chloe to the conservatory, his arm lightly around her waist. "To show her the winter roses," he announced to the room, but his eyes were on Chloe.

Left alone, a sudden, reckless impulse took over Ava. Ethan' s study. It was always locked. He was obsessively private about it. Now, with everyone distracted, and a strange, desperate curiosity gnawing at her, Ava wheeled herself quietly down the hall. The key, she remembered, was sometimes left on the small ledge above the doorframe. Her fingers brushed against it. It was there.

Her heart pounded as she unlocked the door and slipped inside. The room was dark, smelling of old books and Ethan' s cologne. She fumbled for the light switch.

What she saw made her gasp. One entire wall was a collage of Chloe Vanderbilt. Photos of Chloe as a child, a teenager, a young woman. Chloe dancing, Chloe laughing, Chloe at parties, Chloe with Ethan. There were letters, too, stacks of them, tied with ribbons, in Chloe' s elegant script and Ethan' s familiar scrawl. Years of correspondence.

Then, on his desk, she saw it. A leather-bound journal. Ethan' s private journal. Her hands trembled as she opened it.

The entries were chilling.

"Sarah' s cooking is nauseating. Must pretend to enjoy it for David' s sake."

"Ava braved that blizzard to get me medicine when I faked a cold. Watching her trudge through the snow, so worried, so pathetic, was satisfying."

"She wore that cheap lingerie again tonight. Trying so hard. Just like her tramp mother, always desperate for a man' s approval."

"Faked that fight injury at school. She actually gave blood for me until she fainted. Pathetic fool. But her devotion is useful. Keeps her mother off guard."

Ava' s breath hitched. The words blurred. The room started to spin. This wasn't just revenge against her mother. This was a deep, personal hatred for Ava herself.

She felt a wave of nausea. The air in the room was suffocating.

The door opened. Ethan stood there, his expression darkening when he saw her, then shifting to a look of strained concern when he saw the journal in her lap.

"Ava? What are you doing in here?" He rushed to her side, trying to take the journal. "You shouldn't be upsetting yourself." He knelt, his voice soft, coaxing. "Are you jealous of Chloe? Don't be, baby. You're the one I want." He tried to kiss her.

Revulsion crawled up Ava' s throat. "Don't touch me," she choked out, pushing his face away. "Get away from me."

"Ava, what's wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowed in feigned confusion. "Is it your legs? Are you in pain?"

"Pain?" She laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "You have no idea."

"Don't worry," he said, his voice still gentle, still manipulative. "We'll get married. We can go to Europe, just like we planned. Somewhere beautiful. No one will judge us there. We can be happy."

Ava just stared at him, tears streaming down her face. He still didn't get it. Or he didn't care. The depth of his deception was bottomless.

She let her head fall back against the wheelchair, exhausted. He continued to murmur soothing lies, misinterpreting her tears as pain from her injuries, or perhaps, ridiculously, jealousy over Chloe. He eventually helped her back to her room, his touch making her skin crawl, and left her, promising to check on her later. She cried until she fell into a restless, nightmare-filled sleep.