Chapter 2

Ava hosted the memorial service at their palatial Montecito estate.

It was an opulent affair, tasteful in its somber grandeur, filled with white lilies and hushed whispers.

Ostensibly for grief, it was, for Ava, a theater.

She played her role flawlessly: the composed widow, her sorrow elegant, her black Givenchy dress understated.

She watched everyone. Eleanor, Ethan' s mother, a woman carved from ice, her disdain for Ava a palpable chill in the air. Richard, Ethan' s father, smoother, more dangerous, his eyes missing nothing.

And then, Chloe.

She made her entrance as the eulogies were winding down.

Dramatic, as expected.

Chloe, barely in her late twenties, a social media influencer with a practiced pout and tear-filled eyes, clutched a small boy to her side.

Leo, perhaps four years old, blond and bewildered.

"He has a right to be here," Chloe announced, her voice trembling for the assembled mourners. "To mourn his father."

A collective gasp. Cameras, discreetly present for "family memories," flashed.

Eleanor rushed to Chloe' s side, embracing her, glaring daggers at Ava.

"Of course, he does, you poor dear," Eleanor cooed, loud enough for all to hear. "This is Ethan' s son. His legacy."

Richard watched, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, before nodding curtly in Chloe' s direction. A public endorsement.

Ava remained still, her expression one of quiet dignity.

Inside, she cataloged their reactions, their alliances.

The game was afoot.

Later, as guests offered condolences, Eleanor cornered Ava near a towering floral arrangement.

"You may have his name for now, Ava," Eleanor hissed, her voice low and venomous, "but Chloe has his child. His blood. That' s what truly matters to this family."

Ava met her gaze, a hint of a sad smile playing on her lips.

"Grief makes us say such harsh things, Eleanor. I'm sure Ethan would want us all to find peace."

Eleanor recoiled as if struck.

Chloe, emboldened by Eleanor' s support, approached Ava later, Leo still clinging to her hand.

"Ethan loved me," Chloe said, a defiant tilt to her chin. "He was going to divorce you. Leo is his son. He deserves his share."

Ava looked down at the boy, then back at Chloe.

Her voice was soft, almost gentle.

"The estate will be handled according to the law, Chloe. As for Leo, if he is indeed Ethan' s son, that too will be addressed."

She was giving nothing away.

She was merely observing, calculating.

The memorial had served its purpose. The players had shown their hands.