Chapter 3

The first few days of my marriage were a blur of quiet efficiency. Liam Hayes was, if nothing else, a man of his word. We were married in a swift, impersonal ceremony at City Hall. He slid a simple, elegant platinum band onto my finger, his touch brief and professional. There was no kiss, just a firm handshake afterward.

He then took me to a stunning penthouse apartment that overlooked the entire city. It was modern, minimalist, and felt more like a luxury hotel than a home.

"This is your home now," he said, gesturing around the vast living space. "My work requires me to travel frequently. I leave for an extended trip to Asia tomorrow, so you will have the place to yourself to settle in. My credit card is on the kitchen counter. Get whatever you need to make it feel like your own."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone in the silent, sprawling apartment. It was a strange sort of freedom. I spent the next day just walking through the rooms, the new weight of the ring on my finger a constant, unfamiliar presence. My heart still ached for Ethan, a dull, persistent throb of pain. But every time the grief threatened to overwhelm me, I would look out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city below and remember why I had done this. I chose this. I chose to escape.

I decided to take Liam at his word. I needed a project, something to pour my energy into. I found a spare room with perfect natural light and, using the credit card he'd left, began ordering everything I needed to set up a new jewelry workshop. Benches, tools, torches, raw silver and gold, a selection of precious and semi-precious stones. The process was a balm to my wounded soul. Designing, creating-it was the only thing that was truly mine.

A week after my hasty wedding, I forced myself to go to a major industry gala. It was a networking event for jewelry designers and retailers, and I knew I needed to be there to start building my brand, separate from the Vance name.

I chose a simple black dress and wore one of my own designs-a silver necklace with a single, tear-drop-shaped moonstone. As I walked into the crowded ballroom, a wave of anxiety hit me. These events were always Ethan's territory. He would navigate the room with effortless charisma, introducing me as his brilliant ward.

Tonight, I was alone.

I was making my way towards a potential buyer I recognized when a voice dripped like poison into my ear.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

I turned. Brittany Lane stood there, draped in a glittering red gown, a glass of champagne in her hand. Ethan was at her side, his expression unreadable as he looked at me. It was the first time I'd seen him since I left. My heart gave a painful lurch.

"Brittany. Ethan," I said, my voice tight.

"I have to say, I'm surprised to see you out," Brittany said, her smile all teeth. "I heard you'd run off. We were so worried." The lie was so blatant it was almost impressive.

"I didn't run off. I moved out," I corrected her, my eyes flicking to Ethan. He remained silent, just watching me.

"Right," she said with a disbelieving laugh. "Listen, Ava, a piece of friendly advice. This look... it's not going to work. Pining after your guardian? It's a little pathetic. Ethan has moved on. We're getting married. You need to accept that."

Her words were for the benefit of the people starting to listen in around us. She was painting me as a lovesick child, a home-wrecker. I could feel the heat of humiliation creeping up my neck.

"My life has nothing to do with you, Brittany," I said, trying to keep my composure.

"Oh, but it does, honey," she cooed, stepping closer. "Because as long as you're hanging around, trying to get his attention, you're embarrassing him. You're embarrassing me." She looked at Ethan, pouting. "Tell her, baby."

Ethan finally spoke, his voice cold and public. "Brittany's right, Ava. You're making a scene. You should go home."

'Go home.' He didn't even realize I didn't have a home to go to, not the one he meant. The casual cruelty of it stole my breath.

I looked at him, at the man who had promised to protect me, now standing by as his fiancée publicly humiliated me. Something inside me snapped. The hurt and grief receded, replaced by a surge of cold, hard anger.

"No," I said, my voice clear and steady. The people around us fell silent.

I met Ethan's shocked gaze. "I'm not going anywhere. And for the record, I'm not pining after anyone."

I lifted my left hand, letting the simple platinum band on my finger catch the light.

"I've moved on too," I announced, my voice ringing with a conviction I didn't entirely feel. "I'm married."

The shock on Ethan's face was instantaneous and profound. His jaw tightened, and his eyes, for just a second, blazed with an emotion that looked terrifyingly like rage. Brittany just stared, her mouth slightly agape. I had thrown a grenade into their perfectly curated scene, and it felt, for a fleeting moment, like a victory.