Chapter 4

Liam' s shock quickly curdled into anger. "What do you think you' re doing, Ava? This isn' t a game. You have a responsibility here." He gestured vaguely around the pristine, lifeless house.

"My only responsibility is to myself and to my son. And I will not raise him to believe a woman' s only value is in serving her husband," she retorted, her voice steady despite the furious pounding in her chest.

"That' s ridiculous," he scoffed. "I fully support women having careers. Look at Chloe. I' ve been her biggest champion since college."

The irony was so thick she could have sliced it with a chef' s knife. "You supported Chloe because her success reflects well on you. You want me at home because my independence doesn' t serve your narrative."

Before he could reply, her phone rang. It was her father, David Miller. She steeled herself and answered.

"Ava, what' s this I hear from Liam? You' re trying to go back to work already?" His voice was wheedling, laced with disappointment. "The baby is just a few days old. A mother' s place is with her child."

Ava closed her eyes for a second. Her father owned a small, struggling restaurant. Liam had become his primary investor, his lifeline. David' s concern wasn' t for her or Leo; it was for his financial stability, which depended entirely on Liam' s goodwill.

"My place is where I decide it is, Dad," she said, her voice hard.

"Don' t be difficult, Ava. You have a good husband, a beautiful home. Liam is a very important man. You need to support him. Don' t ruin this for our family."

Our family. He meant his restaurant. He meant the easy money he got from his wealthy son-in-law.

"Is that what this is about?" Ava' s voice was dangerously quiet. "Your restaurant? Are you afraid Liam will pull his funding if his wife stops being a perfect little homemaker?"

There was a sputtering silence on the other end of the line. "How can you say that? I' m your father! I' m worried about you!"

"No, you' re not," she said, the words falling like chips of ice. "You' re worried about yourself. You have been my whole life. So let me be very clear. My marriage and my career are not your business. Don' t call me about this again."

She hung up before he could respond, her hand shaking. She looked up to see Liam watching her, a smug, knowing look on his face. He thought her own family would force her back in line. He was wrong.

He must have seen the unshakable resolve in her eyes, because his apathetic demeanor shifted. He gave her a calculated, charming smile, the one he used to close deals.

"Alright, Ava. Alright," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "If you really want to do this, I won' t stop you. Go back to the kitchen. See how you feel."

Ava was suspicious. This sudden turnaround was completely out of character. What was his angle? She didn' t trust him for a second, but she nodded curtly. "I will."

The next day, she went to her old culinary academy. Chef Dubois gave her a stern lecture about the demands of the job but offered her a chance to get back in the game: a sous-chef position for an upcoming local food festival. It was a trial.

She spent the afternoon in the academy' s kitchen, a place that felt more like home than her own house. The familiar weight of a knife in her hand, the smell of garlic and herbs, the heat of the stove-it was invigorating. She was rusty, her stamina low after pregnancy, but the muscle memory was there.

When she got home, drained but exhilarated, Liam was in the kitchen, watching the nanny feed Leo.

"How was it?" he asked, his tone casual.

"It was good," she said, not elaborating.

"Chef Dubois is a good mentor," Liam said, leaning against the counter. "I remember when you won that award under his guidance. You were so passionate. You had this... fire in your eyes."

She looked at him, surprised. He had never mentioned that night before.

"Chloe' s also competing in that festival, you know," he added, as if it were an afterthought. "She' s on the judging panel. As a food critic, her opinion carries a lot of weight. She got her start because I believed in her, you know. I helped fund her first food blog. It' s important to support the people you care about."

And there it was. The other shoe. It wasn' t about supporting Ava. It was another comparison, another reminder of Chloe' s success, a success he had personally engineered. He was telling her, in his own way, that Chloe' s place in this world was one he had built, while Ava' s was one she was foolishly trying to reclaim on her own. The flicker of warmth she' d felt died instantly, replaced by a cold, familiar ache.