Chapter 4

I didn't go to the terrace.

Instead, I hurried down a corridor, looking for a quiet place to breathe.

And then I saw him.

Ethan Vance.

He was working, dressed in a waiter's uniform, collecting empty glasses.

From my old high school, before Marcus pulled me out, isolated me.

Ethan, who used to look at me with a kind of shy warmth in his eyes.

He looked up, saw me, and his jaw dropped.

"Ava?" he said, his voice full of disbelief. "Ava Thorne?"

He still used Marcus's surname for me, though it wasn't legally mine.

He looked shocked by how I appeared, gaunt and pale, my eyes probably wide with a hunted look I couldn't erase.

"Ethan," I breathed, a sudden, desperate hope flaring in my chest. "You remember me?"

"Of course, I remember you," he said, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you... are you okay? You look..."

"I need help," I blurted out, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

My desperation was a raw, open wound.

"Ethan, if you could... if you could just get me away from him. If you'd stand up to him."

It was a crazy, impulsive plea, born of sheer terror and a sliver of hope that someone, anyone, might care.

His eyes widened, a flicker of fear in them. He knew who Marcus Thorne was, everyone did.

"Ava, what are you talking about?" he started, looking around nervously.

"There you are, Ava."

Marcus's voice, cold and smooth, cut through the air.

He appeared beside me, his smile fixed and icy, his hand landing on my arm, fingers gripping like steel.

Ethan visibly tensed, intimidated.

"Mr. Thorne," Ethan stammered. "Ava and I... we were just catching up. We went to school together."

He tried to sound brave, but his voice wavered. "We were thinking of... seeing each other."

Marcus's smile didn't falter, but his eyes were like chips of ice.

"That's kind of you, Ethan," Marcus said, his tone dismissive. "But Ava needs her rest. She's been unwell."

He pulled me closer, his grip tightening. "We were just leaving."

He steered me away, leaving Ethan standing there, looking helpless and worried.

The brief spark of hope died, leaving only a cold, familiar dread.