Chapter 2

Hours later, the house quieted.

The lock clicked. My father, David, entered.

He carried a tray with a glass of water and two small pills.

"You need to calm down, Ava," he said, his voice low, avoiding my gaze.

"Calm down?" I stood up. "You helped them. You let them steal my life, my work, even Julian."

"Julian was never right for you," he said, placing the tray on a small table. "He's superficial."

"That's not the point! Chloe is living my life, and you're all acting like I'm insane."

"Eleanor is... determined," he said. "She believes this is best for the family image. For Chloe."

"And for you? What do you believe, Father?"

He sighed, a deep, weary sound. "It's complicated, Ava. Take these. Get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow."

He gestured to the pills. Sedatives, I assumed.

"I'm not taking anything," I said. "Not until you tell me what's really going on."

His face hardened slightly. "Eleanor insists. She's worried you'll cause another scene. The wedding is tomorrow."

Chloe and Julian's wedding. So soon.

"She's worried I'll tell the truth," I countered.

"Ava, please. For your own sake." His eyes flickered with something I couldn't decipher. Pain? Fear?

He seemed under immense pressure.

"No," I said.

He looked at the door, then back at me. "If you don't take them willingly, Eleanor has... made other arrangements."

The implication was clear. Force.

I stared at him, my own father. How could he be part of this?

But then, a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head. A flicker in his eyes.

Was it a warning? Or something else?

My mind raced. If I refused, they'd force me. If I took them...

A sudden, wild thought. A desperate gamble.

If I was "gone," what then?

What if this was a test?

I remembered the plan then. Not all of it, just fragments.

David's hushed phone calls weeks ago, before I left the facility. Mention of Ethan Thorne.

A new life. Freedom.

It was a crazy, desperate idea that had formed in hushed tones, a contingency.

Could this be it?

My "death" faked by David, allied with Ethan Thorne.

The pills. Harmless.

A way out.

I looked at my father, really looked.

The strain was there, but also a hidden resolve.

This was it. The plan was in motion.

I had to play my part.

I walked to the table. Picked up the pills.

"Fine," I said, my voice flat. "If it will make Eleanor happy."

I met his eyes. He gave the slightest nod.

Relief washed over me, so potent it almost buckled my knees.

The day of the wedding dawned. I knew what I had to do.

They let me out of the room for the ceremony, under guard.

Eleanor, radiant as the mother of the bride, ignored me.

Chloe, in a white gown that should have been mine, looked like a predatory angel.

During a quiet moment, before the guests arrived in full force, I confronted them in the main hall.

"You won't get away with this," I told Eleanor and Chloe.

Eleanor laughed. "My dear Ava, it's already done. You have nothing."

"She's clearly distraught," Chloe said to the few early guests, shaking her head sadly.

David watched, his face a mask.

"You're right," I said, my voice ringing with a conviction that startled them. "I have nothing left here."

I turned to my father. "I can't live like this."

I saw the small vial he discreetly held. The "fatal" overdose.

He looked at me, a silent question in his eyes.

I nodded.

Under Eleanor's watchful, triumphant gaze, David stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, Ava," he said, his voice thick with feigned regret. "It's for the best."

He handed me the vial. "This will help you rest. Permanently."

Eleanor's eyes gleamed. Chloe looked away, a flicker of something – fear? – on her face.

I uncorked the vial. The liquid was clear.

"Thank you, Father," I said. "For finally setting me free."

I drank it down in one gulp.

Then, I crumpled to the floor, a convincing portrayal of death.