Chapter 4

The next few days were a special kind of hell. Vivienne was a permanent fixture in the house, playing the part of the delicate, recovering victim. She wandered the halls in Ethan' s clothes, offering unsolicited advice on the decor and openly criticizing Ava' s presence.

Lily called every day, not to ask about Ava' s health, but to berate her. "Vivienne told me what you did! How could you be so cruel? You need to take better care of her, Ava. She's been through so much. Make her feel welcome!"

Ava just listened, the phone pressed to her ear, until Lily ran out of venom and hung up.

This morning, Vivienne had requested a specific, complicated brunch. Ava spent hours in the kitchen preparing it, carefully arranging the food on the finest china. She made enough for three, but when she set the table, she found only two place settings. Ethan and Vivienne. None for her.

She stood in the kitchen doorway, watching them eat.

"This is delicious, Ethan," Vivienne said, taking a delicate bite of a croissant. "But the coffee is a bit weak. A.N. used to make it perfectly. I wonder what's wrong with her lately."

Ethan shot a dark look in Ava' s direction. "She' s been useless," he said loudly, making sure Ava could hear. "Go make another pot. And make it right this time."

Ava turned and went back to the kitchen, her hands moving mechanically as she ground the coffee beans.

She was bringing the fresh pot of coffee to the table when it happened. Vivienne, with a theatrical sigh, stood up to "help" her. As Ava passed, Vivienne' s foot shot out, just slightly. It was a subtle, calculated move.

Ava tripped.

The heavy ceramic pot flew from her hands. Scalding hot coffee splashed across her chest and arms. The pain was instantaneous and blinding. It felt like her skin was on fire. The pot shattered on the floor, sending sharp fragments of ceramic flying.

Ava crumpled to the ground, biting her tongue to keep from screaming. The agony was overwhelming.

"Oh my god!" Vivienne shrieked, clutching her chest as if in shock.

Ethan leaped to his feet, but he didn't run to Ava. He ran to Vivienne. "Vivienne, are you okay? Did any of it get on you?" He frantically checked her over, his hands gentle and full of concern.

"I-I'm fine," Vivienne stammered, pointing a trembling finger at Ava. "But look at her! She' s so clumsy!"

Ethan finally looked down at Ava, who was curled on the floor, shaking from the pain, her skin already blistering. His expression was not one of concern, but of pure annoyance. "You idiot. Look at the mess you've made. And you've probably ruined the rug."

He made no move to help her. He just stood there, glaring down at her as if she were an inconvenience. The servants, taking their cue from their master, also stood back, not daring to intervene.

Ava knew no one would help her. She had to help herself.

With a monumental effort, she pushed herself up. Each movement sent fresh waves of agony through her body. She could feel the hot fabric of her shirt sticking to her burned skin. Ignoring the broken ceramic and the condescending stares, she stumbled out of the dining room and towards the bathroom.

She managed to get to the guest bathroom downstairs, running cool water over the burns, the relief so intense it made her dizzy. She peeled the wet fabric away from her skin, revealing angry red welts and blisters.

She knew she needed to go to the hospital.

She wrapped a towel around her torso and limped to her room to find something loose to wear. When she came back downstairs, her car keys in hand, she saw Ethan and Vivienne still in the dining room. A servant was cleaning up the mess while Vivienne, fully recovered from her "shock," was now being hand-fed a piece of fruit by Ethan. They were laughing about something.

They didn't even notice her leave.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of pain. At the emergency room, the triage nurse' s eyes widened when she saw the extent of the burns.

"My god, what happened to you?" the nurse asked, her voice full of genuine sympathy.

Ava couldn't answer. She could only point to the burns, her eyes pleading for help.

They treated her quickly, applying soothing balms and wrapping her chest and arms in sterile bandages. The doctor who saw her was grim. "These are second-degree burns. You're lucky they weren't worse. How did this happen?"

Ava wrote on her notepad: An accident in the kitchen.

The doctor looked at her, then at the old, faded bruise on her temple from her family' s "dinner." He didn't look like he believed her. "You need to be very careful with these," he said, his voice gentle. "And you should report this if... if it wasn't an accident."

When Ava finally got back to the mansion late that night, the house was dark and quiet. She let herself in and walked into the living room.

The sight that greeted her made her stop dead.

Ethan was on the sofa. Vivienne was curled up against him, her head on his chest, fast asleep. He was stroking her hair, a look of tender affection on his face that Ava had never, ever seen him direct at her.

He looked up and saw Ava standing there, wrapped in bandages. For a moment, a flicker of something-guilt, perhaps-crossed his face.

"You're back," he said, his voice a low murmur, careful not to wake Vivienne. "How are... how are your arms?"

It was the first time he had asked. It was a weak, late, and utterly meaningless gesture.