Chapter 2

The locket landed with a soft thud, a sound that echoed the breaking inside me. Shattered. That' s what I was. He' d talked for years about our children, the ones who would attend Phillips Exeter or Choate, the ones who would carry on the Bradford name. Now, he stood there, casually planning a life with another woman, with her children, while offering me a consolation prize of a marriage built on lies and public perception.

He' d even spun a tale once, about a "tragic miscarriage" Sophia had supposedly suffered years ago, blaming his parents' initial disapproval of her. It was all part of his romanticized narrative of their great, thwarted love. Now, that story felt like another layer of his casual deceit.

Liam had already moved Sophia into the penthouse that evening, her presence erasing me before I' d even fully processed my dismissal. The air, once familiar, now smelled of her expensive, cloying perfume. I stood in the guest room, the one I' d been relegated to, and felt a cold, hard knot form in my chest. This wasn't just betrayal, it was annihilation.

My hand went to my phone, my fingers trembling as I scrolled to a name I hadn' t contacted in years. Jax Cole. Liam' s old university roommate. The one who always looked at me with a kindness Liam never bothered to feign. The one who had, years ago, after witnessing one too many of Liam' s casual cruelties, made an offer.

"If you ever want to leave them, Ava," he' d said, his voice serious, "if you want to start over, I' ll help you. Hell, I' ll marry you myself if that' s what it takes to get you away from him."

I' d dismissed it then, caught in the web of obligation and a foolish hope that Liam would change. Now, his words were a lifeline.

My thumb hovered over the call button. Then I pressed it.

He answered on the second ring.

"Ava?" His voice was deeper than I remembered, but still warm, concerned.

"Jax," I managed, my own voice a choked whisper. "Is that offer... does it still stand?"

Silence for a beat, then, "Always, Ava. For you, always. What happened?"

I couldn' t bring myself to say it all, not yet. "I need to leave. I need to get out."

"Boston City Hall," he said, his tone firm, decisive. "Three days. Nine AM. Can you make it?"

"Yes," I breathed, a tiny spark of something igniting within the wreckage. Hope, maybe. Or just the will to survive.

"Good. I'll be there."

After I hung up, I walked back into the living room. The waste bin was still there. I reached in, my fingers closing around the cool metal of the locket. I pulled it out, wiping away a smear of what looked like champagne with a newfound, steely resolve. This wasn't over. My story wasn't over.