Chapter 3

The days at her grandmother' s house passed in a quiet rhythm. Ava slept, ate Mrs. Reed' s nourishing food, and spent hours in the garden, feeling the sun on her skin. The frantic, hollow life she' d left behind began to feel like a distant dream. She felt herself slowly coming back to life, piece by piece.

One afternoon, she sat on the porch swing, sketching in a new notebook. Her best friend, Sarah Jenkins, sat beside her, sipping iced tea.

"Are you sure about this, Ava?" Sarah asked, her voice gentle but firm. "Leaving the country? Starting over completely?"

Ava looked up from her drawing, her eyes clear and determined. "I' ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Sarah. I spent twenty years building Mark' s dream. Now it' s time to build my own." Her hand didn' t tremble as she drew the clean, bold line of a new design.

Her phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID. It was Mark. She let it ring a few times before answering, her voice cool and professional. "Hello?"

"Ava? It' s me," Mark' s voice was strained, impatient. "We need to talk. This divorce thing is ridiculous. You' re making a scene."

"There' s nothing to talk about, Mark. My lawyer will handle everything."

"My mother is insisting you come to my parents' anniversary dinner on Saturday," he commanded, not asked. "You have to be there. We have to keep up appearances."

Ava was about to refuse, but a new, calculating thought entered her mind. "Fine," she said. "I' ll be there."

Before he could respond, she hung up. Sarah looked at her, confused. "Why would you agree to that?"

"Because," Ava said, a small, hard smile on her face, "it' s time they all see that the woman they knew is gone."

On Saturday evening, Ava walked into the Thompsons' formal dining room. The whole family was there. Mark' s parents greeted her with a strained politeness. Mark stood stiffly by the fireplace, while Liam refused to even look at her. Instead of taking her usual seat next to Mark, Ava chose a chair at the far end of the table, next to Mark' s mother.

The dinner was an excruciating affair, filled with tense silences and forced small talk. Halfway through the main course, Mark' s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, a smile touching his lips.

"I have to go," he announced, standing up abruptly. "A last-minute business emergency."

Ava knew it was a lie. She remained silent, watching him.

"Mark, you can' t leave in the middle of our anniversary dinner!" his mother protested.

"It' s important," he said, already heading for the door. A moment later, they all heard the sound of a car pulling up outside, the passenger door opening and closing, and then Chloe' s distinct, high-pitched laugh echoing in the driveway before the car sped away.

The humiliation was thick in the air. Mark' s father looked furious, his mother looked heartbroken. Ava simply continued to eat her food, her expression unreadable.

The dinner ended quickly after that. As Ava was getting her coat to leave, Liam blocked her path. His face was twisted with rage.

"This is all your fault," he hissed, his voice low and vicious. "You drove him away! You' re ruining everything!"

"Get out of my way, Liam," Ava said calmly.

Suddenly, his anger boiled over. He shoved her, hard. Ava stumbled backward, her injured ribs screaming in protest, and crashed against a small table, sending a vase of flowers shattering to the floor.

She gasped in pain, clutching her side. The shock on everyone' s faces was absolute. But what shocked them more was what happened next. Ava didn' t cry. She didn' t scream. She slowly pushed herself upright, looked directly into her son' s furious eyes, and let out a cold, chilling laugh.

"Is that all you' ve got?" she said, her voice dripping with contempt. She then turned to Mark' s horrified parents. "I believe you are witnesses to an assault. I wonder what the police would have to say about that."

The power dynamic in the room had shifted, completely and irrevocably. Ava was no longer the victim. She was in control.