Chapter 2

Professor Albright called the next morning.

"Ava, good news! The Royal College of Art. They loved your portfolio. They' re offering you the scholarship. A late acceptance, due to a last-minute withdrawal. You need to confirm by the end of the week."

London. A world away.

The words echoed in the sterile silence of Ethan' s penthouse.

Ava' s heart, bruised and battered, felt a tiny flicker.

"I... I' ll think about it, Professor," she managed, her voice hoarse.

"Think about it?" Albright sounded surprised. "Ava, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

She knew. But her mother. The medical bills Ethan was covering.

The gilded cage had strong bars.

Later that day, Ava found a small, beautifully wrapped gift she' d bought for Ethan. A vintage photography book she' d hunted down, thinking he' d appreciate its artistry.

Her fingers traced the cover.

With a surge of bitter resolve, she walked to the trash chute and dropped it in.

A small, symbolic act of letting go.

It didn' t make her feel better.

The emotional turmoil took its toll.

A wave of dizziness hit her as she was preparing to go to one of her part-time jobs.

She collapsed onto the plush sofa, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Her phone rang. It was Ethan' s driver, Mark.

"Ms. Miller? Mr. Reed asked me to pick you up. There' s a charity gala tonight. He expects you."

His voice was polite, impersonal.

Ava felt too weak to argue, too tired to fight.

"I' ll be ready," she said, the words tasting like ash.

She had to keep up appearances. For her mother.

The gala was a blur of diamonds and fake smiles.

Ava, pale and unsteady, clung to a glass of water.

She overheard snippets of conversation from a group of women nearby, their voices sharp and carrying.

"Isn' t that Ethan' s latest... project?" one sneered.

"Poor thing. She probably thinks she' s special."

"Doesn' t she know about Victoria? He' s been obsessed with Victoria Hayes for years. They were engaged, you know. Everyone knew he was devastated when she left for Asia."

"This one? Just a temporary distraction. A pretty face to keep him warm until Victoria decided to come back."

Their laughter was like needles.

Ava' s face burned.

She understood then. Fully.

She wasn' t just a substitute for Victoria' s past self. She was a tool. A pawn in Ethan' s long game to make Victoria jealous, to lure her back.

All his grand gestures, the attentiveness, the supposed affection – it was all a performance, not for her, but for an audience of one: Victoria Hayes.

She felt a desperate urge to flee, to disappear.

As she turned to leave, a hand clamped onto her arm.

Victoria.

Her smile was predatory. "Leaving so soon, Ava? The night is young. And Ethan is looking for you."

She steered Ava, despite her weak resistance, towards Ethan.

He was holding court, charming, powerful.

He saw them approach. His smile didn't falter.

"Ah, Ava. There you are," he said, as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn' t abandoned her the previous day, as if her terrified message meant nothing. "Come, join us."

He gestured to the group, his arm lightly touching her back.

A possessive, public claim.

Ava looked at him, at Victoria standing beside him, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

She suppressed the turmoil inside, the nausea, the heartbreak.

She was a pawn. She would play her part. For now.

A quiet, painful resignation settled over her. This was her role in their twisted drama.