Chapter 3

Vivienne decided to visit the hospital the next day. She arrived carrying a bouquet of expensive, fragrant lilies, the very flowers Ava was allergic to.

She swept into the room with an air of practiced concern, her beautiful face arranged in a perfect mask of sympathy. "Oh, Ava, you poor thing," she cooed, placing the flowers on the bedside table, far too close to Ava' s face. "I heard what happened. You must be more careful."

Ava could already feel her sinuses starting to itch, her throat tightening. She subtly tried to shift away from the overwhelming scent.

Vivienne noticed. A small, cruel smile touched her lips for a fraction of a second before disappearing. "Ethan is so worried about you," she said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "He wanted to come, but he had a very important meeting with the gallery board. He sent me instead."

She sat down on the chair next to the bed, crossing her elegant legs. "You know, it must be so hard for him. He has to take care of his career, and then he has to worry about you and your... accidents." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He told me he feels so suffocated sometimes. He said he just wants to be with someone who understands him, someone on his level."

The meaning was clear. Someone like Vivienne. Not someone like Ava.

Ava just looked at her, her expression unreadable. The itching in her nose was getting worse. She needed to get away from the flowers.

Vivienne saw the discomfort on Ava's face and interpreted it as sadness. "Don't look so down," she said, patting Ava's hand with a condescending touch. "I'm sure Ethan still cares for you, in his own way. Like one cares for a pet."

The insult was deliberate, designed to wound. Ava pulled her hand away.

This small act of defiance seemed to annoy Vivienne. Her demeanor shifted. She stood up and "accidentally" knocked over the glass of water on the bedside table, soaking the sheets and Ava's gown.

"Oh, clumsy me!" she exclaimed, though her eyes showed no remorse. She then let out a small, sharp cry of pain. "Oh! The glass, it cut me!"

She held up her hand, where a tiny, almost invisible scratch was welling with a single drop of blood. It was a masterful performance.

Right on cue, Ethan walked in. He took in the scene at a glance: the spilled water, Vivienne holding her "injured" hand, and Ava sitting silently in the wet bed.

"Vivienne! Are you alright?" he rushed to her side, completely ignoring Ava. He examined Vivienne's hand with frantic concern.

"I-I'm fine, Ethan," Vivienne said, her voice trembling slightly. "I was just trying to help Ava, and I slipped. I think... I think she might have pushed my hand away."

Ethan' s head snapped toward Ava. His face was dark with rage. "You pushed her?"

Ava shook her head desperately, reaching for her notepad. But Ethan was too angry to notice.

"Look at her, she's bleeding because of you!" he snarled. "You're nothing but trouble. First, you injure yourself, and now you're hurting Vivienne. Is this how you get my attention? By hurting the people I care about?"

He didn't give her a chance to defend herself. He grabbed her by the arm, his grip painfully tight. "Get up. You're going to apologize to her."

He dragged her out of the bed. The wet hospital gown clung to her unpleasantly. The pain in her head throbbed. He forced her to stand in front of Vivienne.

"Apologize," he commanded.

Ava stared at him, her heart a block of ice. She would not. She could not.

Her silence only fueled his anger. "Fine. If you won't use words you don't have, you'll use actions." He pushed her down, forcing her to her knees in front of Vivienne. "Stay there until you learn some humility."

`[System Alert: User has been subjected to extreme humiliation. Do you require intervention? Mission parameters can be adjusted.]`

No, Ava thought, her resolve hardening. I will finish this. On my own terms.

Ethan turned his back on her, his full attention now on Vivienne. He led her out of the room, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, murmuring words of comfort. "Let's get that hand looked at by a proper doctor. I'll take you to dinner afterward, anywhere you want."

They left Ava kneeling on the cold hospital floor, alone.

A few hours later, a nurse found her and helped her back into bed. Later that evening, Ethan's driver arrived. Not Ethan himself.

"Mr. Blackwood has instructed me to take you home," the driver said, his tone professional but devoid of warmth.

The ride back to the mansion was silent. When she arrived, she found Ethan and Vivienne in the main living room, laughing together over a bottle of wine. Vivienne was wearing one of Ethan's expensive silk shirts, looking perfectly at home.

Ethan saw Ava standing in the doorway and scowled. "Vivienne is staying the night," he announced, his voice cold. "She's feeling unwell because of the shock you gave her. Go prepare the guest room for her. And make her some of that herbal tea she likes."

He was ordering her around like a servant, in front of the woman he clearly preferred. Ava simply turned and walked away to do as he asked, her movements stiff and robotic. She was a muse, a servant, a ghost in her own home. But not for much longer.