Chapter 2

That night, sleep offered no escape. My dreams were a chaotic replay of my life, a highlight reel of loss and misplaced hope. I was eight again, standing between two fresh graves, the scent of damp earth and lilies thick in the air. My small hand was lost in Ethan's much larger one. He was my father's best friend, a towering figure of strength who knelt down and promised, "I'll take care of you, Ava. I'll never let anything happen to you."

The dream shifted. I saw him teaching me how to solder silver for my first jewelry piece, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he guided mine. I saw him presenting me with my own fully equipped workshop on my eighteenth birthday, his eyes shining with what I thought was pride, with what I mistook for a special kind of love.

Then the dream soured. The warm memories dissolved, replaced by the cold, cutting words from just hours before. 'Don't be ridiculous.' 'A schoolgirl crush.' The images twisted, his proud smile turning into a sneer, his fiancée Brittany laughing beside him. I woke up with a gasp, my cheeks wet with tears, the phantom pain of his rejection as real as the silk sheets tangled around me.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across my room-my former room. I felt like a ghost, haunting a place where I no longer belonged. I had to get out.

I finished packing my remaining essentials, moving with a quiet urgency. As I dragged my suitcase to the door, it swung open. Ethan stood there, already dressed in a sharp suit, his face a thundercloud.

"And where do you think you're going?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. He blocked the doorway, his sheer size intimidating.

"I'm moving out," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I refused to let him see me cry again.

"Don't be absurd, Ava. We had an argument. You were emotional. You're not going anywhere," he stated, as if my feelings were a temporary illness he could dismiss.

"It wasn't an argument, Ethan. It was you telling me how things are. I heard you. Now I'm leaving."

"This is your home," he insisted, a flicker of something-was it panic?-in his eyes. His control was slipping, and he didn't like it.

"No," I said, my voice gaining strength. "This is your home. I was just a guest. A ward. And now that I'm twenty-two, your guardianship is over. I'm legally an adult. You can't stop me."

I met his gaze, and for the first time in my life, I didn't back down. I saw the flash of anger, the tightening of his jaw. He wanted to command me, to order me back into my box, but he knew I was right. The power dynamic had shifted, and it infuriated him.

He finally stepped aside, his body rigid with fury. "Fine. Run away. You'll come crawling back when you realize the world isn't as kind as I've been to you."

His words were meant to hurt, to make me feel small and incapable. But they only fueled my resolve. I pulled my suitcase past him without another word and walked down the stairs and out the front door, not looking back. The heavy door shutting behind me sounded like a final, definitive end.

As the taxi pulled away from the grand gates of the Vance estate, my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

'Good morning, Ms. Miller. I'm glad to hear from you. My offer stands. Shall we meet for coffee to finalize the details? My assistant can send a car. Liam Hayes.'

A wave of relief washed over me, so potent it almost made me dizzy. His message was professional, direct, and blessedly free of emotion. It was exactly what I needed. He wasn't offering pity or complicated feelings. He was offering an escape. A clean break.

I typed back a quick reply. 'Yes. Thank you.'

A few hours later, I was sitting in a quiet, upscale café downtown. Liam Hayes walked in, and he was just as I remembered-tall, impeccably dressed in a simple but expensive-looking black sweater and slacks, with an air of quiet confidence. He wasn't classically handsome like Ethan, but his features were striking, with intelligent eyes that seemed to see more than he let on.

"Ms. Miller," he said, his voice calm and even as he sat down opposite me. "Thank you for coming."

"Ava, please," I said. "And thank you for responding so quickly."

"I meant what I said at the conference," he began, getting straight to the point. "I am in need of a wife for business and personal reasons. A partnership. In return, I can offer you financial security, a home, and complete freedom to pursue your career. It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. No emotional entanglements required."

It sounded so cold, so transactional. But after the emotional inferno I had just escaped, 'transactional' sounded like a paradise. It sounded safe.

"And me?" I asked. "What do you get out of it?"

A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "You are talented, respectable, and you have no interest in my fortune. That makes you the perfect candidate. You need an escape, I need a wife. It's simple."

"Okay," I said, a sense of surreal calm washing over me. "I'll do it. I'll marry you."

He simply nodded, as if I had just agreed to a simple business proposal. "Good. We can go to City Hall this afternoon. My lawyer has the prenuptial agreement ready. It's very generous."

And just like that, my life took a sharp, ninety-degree turn. In the span of twenty-four hours, I had lost the only home I'd ever known, been rejected by the man I loved, and agreed to marry a man I barely knew. It was insane. It was terrifying. But as I looked at Liam Hayes, with his calm demeanor and straightforward offer, I didn't feel scared. I felt a flicker of something I hadn't felt in a long time. Hope.