Chapter 4

Olivia' s smile widened. She was enjoying this.

"Why should I leave?" she asked, her voice a condescending purr. "Mark and I are married now. What's his is mine. And honestly, this place is much bigger than my downtown condo. We'll be very happy here."

She ran a hand down Mark' s arm. "You know, he told me all about you. The quiet, boring little coder who was so easy to manage. He said you were devoted. Like a pet."

Mark looked uncomfortable. "Olivia, that's not necessary."

"Oh, but it is," she said, her eyes locked on mine. "I want her to know. I want her to know that you were never going to marry her. The promise about the patent? That was my idea. We needed it, and we knew you were foolish enough to believe him."

The confession hung in the air, thick and toxic. It wasn't just a betrayal by Mark. It was a calculated, long-term conspiracy.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. A strange, cold calm washed over me. When you only have a few days left to exist, things like this lose their power to wound you. They just become... data points. Information to be processed.

"You're a monster," I said, the words simple and factual.

Olivia laughed. "No, darling. I'm a winner. There's a difference."

Then, her entire demeanor changed in a split second. Her eyes widened in pretend fear. She let out a piercing shriek and threw herself backwards, away from me, crashing into a small end table. A lamp wobbled and fell to the floor with a smash.

"Ava, no! Don't push me!" she screamed, clutching her arm as if I had struck her.

I hadn't moved a muscle.

Mark spun around, his face instantly contorted with rage. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't need to. He saw Olivia on the floor, crying, and he saw me standing there. The verdict was already in.

"You're out of control!" he yelled at me. "First my things, now you're attacking my wife?"

"I didn't touch her, Mark. She's lying."

"Lying? She's on the floor, for God's sake! I knew I couldn't trust you. I knew you'd do something like this." He knelt beside Olivia, helping her up, cooing at her like she was a frightened child.

"I want her out of this apartment," Olivia sobbed into his chest. "I don't feel safe here, Mark. I want her gone. Today."

"Of course, honey. Of course," he murmured. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with pure hatred. "You heard her. Get your things and get out. I'm taking the apartment back. You have one hour."

One hour. To pack up the ashes of my life.

I just stood there, staring at him. At the man I had given everything to. He was choosing to believe this manipulative theatrical performance over a decade of my loyalty.

A cold fury, so pure and so intense it felt like ice, filled my veins.

Fine.

If he wanted me to be the monster, I would be the monster.

I walked forward calmly. Olivia flinched, but I ignored her. I walked right up to them. Then I drew my hand back and slapped Olivia across the face. Hard.

It wasn't a performance. It was real. The crack of my hand against her cheek was loud and satisfying.

Olivia gasped, her eyes wide with genuine shock this time. A red mark started to bloom on her perfect skin.

For a moment, everyone was frozen.

Then Mark exploded.

"You bitch!" he roared. He grabbed me by the hair and threw me to the ground. My head hit the floor, and the room swam.

"You want to play rough?" he snarled, standing over me. "Fine." He pulled out his phone. "Security! Get up to my apartment. Now. And bring restraints."

He wasn't just kicking me out. He was punishing me.

The two guards from the wedding reception arrived moments later. They were big, impassive men. This time, they didn't just escort me out. They pinned my arms behind my back and cuffed my wrists with zip ties.

"Mark, what are you doing?" I asked, a real tremor of fear finally cutting through my anger.

"Teaching you a lesson," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "You're a liability, Ava. And I don't tolerate liabilities." He nodded to the guards. "Take her down to the sub-level storage unit. The one with the broken heater. Lock her in."

They dragged me out of my own apartment, past my neighbors who stared with wide, curious eyes. They took me down in the service elevator, to the cold, damp basement of the building.

They shoved me into a dark, concrete room. It was empty except for dust and a single, bare lightbulb. The air was frigid.

"Let me out!" I screamed as the heavy steel door slammed shut. The lock clicked, a sound of finality.

I was alone in the dark and the cold.

Hours passed. Or maybe it was a day. Time blurred. My wrists were raw from the zip ties. The cold seeped into my bones.

[System Warning: Four days remaining until digital erasure.]

The door creaked open. It wasn't Mark. It was Olivia.

She was holding a tray with a bottle of water and a piece of bread. She smiled, setting it down on the floor just outside my reach.

"Thirsty?" she asked. "Hungry?"

I didn't answer. I just glared at her.

She laughed and kicked the tray over. The water bottle rolled away, and the bread skittered into a dusty corner.

"You look pathetic," she said, circling me like a predator. "You know, Mark was so easy to convince. All I had to do was cry a little. He's always had a weakness for damsels in distress. You were never a damsel, were you, Ava? You were always the one fixing things. Men don't want a fixer. They want a pretty, helpless thing to rescue."

She nudged my side with the toe of her expensive shoe. "He gave me permission to handle you. He said to do whatever I thought was necessary to make you... compliant."

She uncoiled a thin leather whip from her belt. It was a riding crop, elegant and cruel.

"He won't know the details," she said, her smile turning vicious. "He just wants the problem to go away. And you, Ava, are a very big problem."

She raised the whip. The first lash cut through the air with a sharp whistle.