Chapter 4

The chief of staff, Dr. Evans, looked at me with sympathetic eyes after Ethan and Chloe had rushed out of the office. "Ava," he said softly, "that was ugly. I'm sorry you had to go through that." He handed me an ice pack for my head. "The fellowship committee called me for a reference last week. I told them they'd be insane not to take you. The offer is still on the table. They said you can start whenever you're ready."

A wave of relief washed over me. "Thank you, Robert. That means a lot."

"Go home. Get some rest. And get out of this city," he advised. "You deserve better."

I walked out of the hospital into the cool night air, feeling lighter than I had in years. The decision was made. I was leaving. I would pack my things, get on a plane, and start over.

As I reached my apartment door, fumbling for my keys, it was pulled open from the inside. Ethan stood there, his face a mask of turmoil.

"Ava, we need to talk," he said, blocking my way.

"No, we don't. Get out of my apartment, Ethan."

He ignored me, stepping forward and pulling me into a hug. His embrace, which once felt like home, now felt like a cage. "I'm sorry about what happened at the hospital. Chloe is just... she's not herself. The stress is getting to her."

"The stress?" I pushed him away, my voice dripping with disbelief. "You think this is about stress?"

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," he pleaded, his eyes searching mine for a sign of the old Ava, the one who always forgave him. "Once Lily is better, we can go away, just the two of us. We'll get married. We'll be happy. I know we can."

I looked at him, at his handsome, earnest face, and felt nothing but an immense, bone-deep weariness. "I'm tired, Ethan," I said, the words coming from a place of complete exhaustion. "I am so tired of this. Of you, of her, of all of it."

He didn't seem to hear me. He was lost in his own fantasy. "Just give me a little more time. That's all I ask."

"There is no more time," I said, walking past him into my own apartment. "I'm leaving."

I spent the next two days in a blur of activity. I booked a one-way ticket. I packed the few personal belongings I wanted to keep. I arranged for the rest to be donated. With every box I taped shut, I felt a layer of my old life peel away. I had 48 hours until my flight. 47. 46. The countdown was a silent drumbeat in my head, getting louder with every hour.

On the morning of my flight, my phone rang. It was the hospital. An emergency. Not for Lily, but for a structural issue. A water pipe had burst on the top floor of the new wing I had designed, and water was threatening to flood the neonatal intensive care unit on the floor below.

"We need you, Ava," the head of facilities said, his voice frantic. "No one else knows these schematics like you do."

My duty as an architect, my responsibility to the lives in that building, kicked in. My flight wasn't for another six hours. I could go, fix the problem, and still make it. "I'm on my way," I said, grabbing my keys.

I was in the sub-basement, directing the maintenance crew to the correct water main shutoff valve, when the heavy steel door slammed shut behind me. The lock clicked. I spun around. Ethan stood on the other side of the small, barred window in the door, his face dark with a terrifying rage.

"What are you doing, Ethan? Open the door!" I yelled, rattling the handle.

"Where were you going, Ava?" he asked, his voice low and menacing. "I went to the apartment. It's empty. Your ticket to Paris was on the counter."

"It's none of your business. Let me out of here!"

"Lily is dying," he said, his voice breaking with a terrible, misplaced grief. "The doctors say the poison is aggressive. They said it was something she ate a few days ago. At our house. With you."

The accusation was insane, baseless. "Ethan, that's crazy! I would never..."

"You're not going anywhere," he snarled, his face contorted. "You're not leaving this city until she is better. Or until you confess." He turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the dark, damp basement.