Chapter 4

The private jet was a world away from the moldy basement.

I sat on a cream leather seat, a cashmere blanket over my lap, sipping a warm, honey-infused tea that soothed the raw fire in my throat. My voice was still gone, a silent prisoner in my own body, but the burning had subsided to a dull ache.

Harrison Vance, my grandfather, sat across from me. He hadn't said much since his security team brought me to the airfield. He just held my hand, his grip firm and steady, his eyes, which I remembered as being so sharp and commanding, now filled with a deep, sorrowful pain.

"Three years, Ava," he finally said, his voice thick with emotion. "We thought we had lost you."

I took the tablet offered by an aide and typed.

I lost myself, too. I had amnesia.

He read the words and nodded slowly, his jaw tight. "The skiing accident. We searched for months. The authorities found traces of a struggle, some of your gear missing. They assumed it was a robbery gone wrong, that you... that you were gone."

He looked away, out the window at the clouds below. "I never gave up hope."

My security chief, the man with the scar named Marcus, stepped forward. He placed a small digital audio recorder on the table between us.

"We retrieved this from the apartment, Miss Vance. As per the beacon's secondary instructions, it began recording all ambient sound in a ten-meter radius twenty-four hours before you activated it."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I had forgotten about the recorder I'd planted.

Marcus pressed a button.

Liam' s voice filled the quiet cabin, arrogant and boastful. He was talking to a friend on the phone, celebrating his funding.

"...yeah, it's finally happening. And the best part? I'm dumping the charity case. Chloe is everything Ava isn't: powerful, connected, rich..."

My grandfather's face hardened into a mask of cold fury.

The recording continued. Liam's friend asked him about his startup's seed money, where he got it.

Liam laughed. A cruel, ugly sound.

"You're not going to believe this. It's a story my mom loved to tell. She was working a seasonal job at that ski resort, you know, cleaning cabins. She saw this rich girl, decked out in all the best gear. My mom... she wasn't a good person. She followed the girl, waited until she was on a remote trail, and ran her off the path. Caused a nasty 'accident'."

I stopped breathing. My grandfather's hand tightened on mine until his knuckles were white.

"The girl was knocked out cold, had a bad head injury," Liam's voice continued, casual and unconcerned. "Mom figured she was dead or would die from the cold. So she stripped her. Took her watch, her designer ski suit, her wallet, everything. Pawned it all. That's what she used to pay for my first year of college. That's what I used for the initial server costs. In a way, that stupid rich bitch funded my entire future."

The cabin was silent except for the hum of the engines.

The world tilted on its axis. It wasn't just a robbery. It wasn't just an accident. His mother had tried to murder me. And he knew. He had known all along. He built his dream on my stolen life, on my near-death.

The woman who had "rescued" me, who had found me disoriented and injured on a roadside days later, claiming I was a hit-and-run victim... she was the one who had put me there. Her pity was a lie to cover her crime.

The love I thought I had shared with Liam wasn't just a lie, it was a sick, twisted joke. He hadn't just used me for three years, he had been using me from the very beginning.

I looked at my grandfather. The sorrow in his eyes was gone, replaced by something ancient and terrifying. It was the look that had made the Sterling-Vance corporation a global empire. It was pure, unadulterated rage.

He picked up a satellite phone and dialed a number.

"Find out everything about a tech founder named Liam. And a woman named Chloe, daughter of a Silicon Valley VC. I want to know where they are celebrating tonight," he said, his voice like chips of ice. "My granddaughter has an appearance to make."

He looked at me, a silent promise passing between us.

They thought they had silenced me. They had no idea they had just unleashed a storm.