Chapter 4

"You'll get nothing, Ava," Mark said, his voice laced with contempt. "You signed away your rights to the company assets when you pled guilty. It was part of the arrangement to protect it."

Another lie, another manipulation I' d been too blind or too desperate to see at the time.

"We'll see about that in court," I said, my resolve hardening.

My father, Carlos, suddenly lunged forward.

"Ungrateful girl!" he yelled, his face contorted with anger.

His hand cracked across my cheek.

The sting was sharp, shocking.

But it was the betrayal in his eyes that cut deeper. My own father, hitting me to protect his financial lifeline.

I stumbled back, my hand flying to my face.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of them.

Eleanor Bishop tutted. "Really, Ava. Such drama. After all Mark has done."

Tiffany smirked, pulling one of her children closer as if to shield them from my toxicity.

Leo finally spoke, his voice strained. "Ava, Dad' s right. Just... let it go. Mark' s taking care of us."

"Taking care of you with money stolen through my sacrifice," I bit out.

I felt utterly alone. Surrounded by people who were once my world, now united against me.

Mark watched, a smug, satisfied look on his face. He had them all on his side.

He thought he had won.

"I'm leaving," I said, turning towards the door.

"And where will you go, Ava?" Mark called after me. "Back to your cell?"

His laughter echoed in the cavernous hall.

I didn't look back.

Outside, the sun felt less harsh. The world seemed a little clearer.

My cheek throbbed. My heart ached. But my mind was surprisingly calm.

The decision was made. There was no going back, no reconciliation possible.

I pulled out my cheap, pre-paid phone, the one I' d bought with the gate money.

My fingers fumbled with the buttons.

There was only one person I could call.

"Queenie?" I said, when she answered on the second ring.

"Ava. I was wondering when you'd call. You okay, girl? You sound... rough."

Her voice, strong and steady, was an anchor.

"Not really, Queenie," I admitted, the dam of my composure finally cracking a little. "He... Mark... he has a whole new family. Six kids. He wants me to just accept it."

"Told you," Queenie said, no hint of 'I told you so' in her tone, just grim understanding. "Men are dogs, most of 'em. Especially the rich ones."

"His parents, my parents, even my brother... they' re all on his side. My father slapped me."

A sharp intake of breath on Queenie' s end. "He did what?"

"Queenie, I told him I want a divorce."

"Good for you," she said firmly. "Don't let that bastard walk all over you."

"I need help, Queenie. I don't know what to do."

"First thing, where are you?"

I gave her the address.

"Stay put if you can, or get to a public place. I'm sending a car. We'll figure this out, Ava. You're not alone in this. Not anymore."

Her words were a lifeline.

Validation. Support.

The first I' d felt in a decade, apart from her friendship in the harsh confines of prison.

A new future. It was a terrifying thought, but for the first time, it didn't feel entirely impossible.

Justice. The word tasted foreign, but good, on my tongue.