Chapter 4

My official exit interview was scheduled for the next morning.

I hoped to be in and out quickly.

Cole Innovations HR was a sterile, impersonal department.

But Tiffany found me first.

She cornered me in an empty corridor near the HR offices.

"Well, well, look who it is," she sneered, her sweet facade gone. "The little doormat finally found some spine, did she? Or did Ethan finally get tired of your mousy face?"

I said nothing. I just wanted to leave.

"Don't think you're getting away with anything," she hissed, stepping closer. "Ethan is mine. His money is mine. You're nothing."

Her voice was low, venomous.

My hand instinctively went to my phone in my pocket. I pressed record.

"You think your little divorce stunt will get you a payout? Dream on. I'll make sure you walk away with less than you came with, you pathetic charity case."

Suddenly, Ethan' s voice boomed down the hallway. "Tiffany? Ava? What' s going on here?"

Tiffany' s demeanor changed in an instant.

Her eyes widened with fake fear. She let out a small sob.

Then, she slapped herself. Hard. A red mark bloomed on her cheek.

"Ethan! Oh, thank god!" she cried, rushing to him. "Ava... she... she threatened me! She said she' d ruin me!"

Ethan' s face darkened with rage. He looked from Tiffany' s tear-streaked face to me.

"You bitch," he snarled, advancing on me.

Before I could react, he shoved me. Hard.

My head slammed against the sharp corner of a large, steel abstract sculpture in the corridor.

Pain exploded behind my eyes. Stars.

I felt a warm trickle of blood run down my temple.

Tiffany gasped dramatically. "Oh, my award! Ava, you clumsy fool!"

She' d "accidentally" knocked over a glass award from a nearby pedestal. It shattered on the marble floor.

Ethan grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like vices.

He dragged me towards the shards of glass.

"Apologize to her," he seethed, his face inches from mine.

"Ethan, I didn't-"

He cut me off, his voice dangerously low. "Mrs. Gable, your beloved foster home director. Such a saint, wasn't she? It would be a shame if certain... financial irregularities from her time at the home came to light, wouldn't it? Tarnish that precious legacy."

My blood ran cold. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

But the look in his eyes told me he would. He would do anything.

He forced my hand down, pressing my palm onto the sharp edges of the broken award.

Pain, sharp and sickening, shot up my arm.

"Apologize," he repeated, his voice a venomous whisper.

Blood welled from the cuts on my palm.

Defeated, bleeding, I looked at Tiffany' s triumphant smirk.

"I... I' m sorry, Tiffany," I choked out.

Ethan released my hand. He immediately turned to Tiffany, all concern. "Are you alright, darling? Let's get you away from this lunatic."

He didn' t even glance at my bleeding head, my bleeding hand.