Chapter 2

The ballroom of The Grand Astoria hotel was overflowing with money and champagne. I walked in, my own wedding dress a ghostly spectacle amidst the sea of black-tie guests. A few people turned and stared, whispering behind their hands. I ignored them, my eyes fixed on the couple of the hour.

Mark saw me first. His smile tightened, and a flash of irritation crossed his face before he masked it with a practiced calm. He excused himself from a conversation with an elderly investor and strode towards me, his steps quick and angry.

"Ava, what the hell are you doing here?" he hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards a secluded alcove. "I told you not to make a scene."

"This was supposed to be our wedding, Mark," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I think I have a right to be here."

He actually rubbed his forehead, a gesture of pure annoyance. "For God's sake, can you think about someone other than yourself for once? This is a very important night for me. For the company. Olivia's father is right over there. Just be happy for me. Be generous."

Generous. The word was a slap.

A memory flooded my mind, sharp and clear. Us, three years ago, in our small apartment, surrounded by takeout boxes. I had just solved a critical bug that saved a multi-million-dollar deal. He had kissed me, telling me I was a genius.

"Just a little longer, babe," he'd whispered. "Once we launch the AI, once we're truly on top, I'm going to give you the wedding of your dreams. Everything you've ever wanted. I promise."

I believed him. I always believed him.

I looked at him now, at this stranger in a suit who demanded my generosity after stealing my life's work and my future.

"I have a gift for you," I said, pulling my hand away from his grasp.

I walked past him, directly towards the main table where Olivia was holding court, laughing with her friends. I approached them, and the chatter died down. All eyes were on me.

I held out a small, framed piece of glass. It wasn't expensive. Inside, printed on archival paper, was a single line of code.

`// hello, world`

It was the first thing we ever wrote together, ten years ago, on a beat-up laptop in my college dorm room. It was the beginning of everything. My gift to him. A reminder.

Mark' s face went pale. For a second, I saw a flicker of the man I used to know.

But Olivia just laughed, a high, tinkling sound. "Oh, how sweet. Is this some kind of nerd inside joke? Mark, honey, what is it?"

She took it from my hands, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the glass.

"It's nothing," Mark said quickly, his voice tight. "Just some old work stuff."

"It looks cheap," Olivia said, turning it over. "Honestly, Ava, you came all the way here to bring this? It feels a little desperate."

She "accidentally" let it slip from her fingers. It hit the marble floor and shattered. The glass sprayed across the ground like crystallized tears.

"Oops," she said, her eyes wide with fake innocence. "My hand just slipped. I'm so clumsy."

She looked up at me, a triumphant little smirk playing on her lips. She had won. She had not only taken my future, she was now happily destroying my past right in front of me.

"You did that on purpose," I said, my voice low.

Olivia' s eyes welled up with tears instantly. She shrank back against Mark, her lower lip trembling. "Mark, she's scaring me. I didn't mean to. Why is she being so mean?"

The entire room was watching. I was the crazy ex-girlfriend in a wedding dress, harassing the beautiful, innocent bride. Olivia, the master manipulator, had framed the scene perfectly.

"Ava, that's enough," Mark snarled. He stepped in front of Olivia, shielding her. "Apologize to her."

"Apologize?" I laughed, a raw, humorless sound. "You want me to apologize?"

"You're making a fool of yourself," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You're embarrassing me."

And then he did something he'd never done before. He raised his hand and slapped me.

The sound echoed in the suddenly silent ballroom. The sting on my cheek was sharp, electric. It was nothing compared to the cold shock in my heart.

He looked at his own hand for a moment, as if surprised by his own action. But then his face hardened again, his loyalty snapping back to the woman beside him.

"Security!" he yelled. "Get her out of here."

Two large men grabbed my arms. They were rough, their grips tight. They started dragging me towards the exit, my beautiful, pointless dress getting snagged and torn.

As they pulled me away, Mark walked up to me. He took out his checkbook and a gold pen. He scribbled something quickly, tore out the check, and tried to stuff it into my hand.

"Here," he said, his voice cold. "Five million. For the patent and for your trouble. Now get out of my life and don't ever contact me again."

I looked at the check. Five million dollars. The price of my soul.

I took it from him. And then, I tore it into tiny pieces. I let the confetti of my betrayal flutter to the floor at his feet.

"I don't want your money, Mark," I said, my voice clear and loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I have seven days to live. I'm going to spend them living for myself."

The security guards shoved me out the main doors and into the cold night air. The heavy doors slammed shut behind me, cutting off the light and the laughter, leaving me alone in the dark.