Chapter 4

The slap from Martha had been bad, but the fight that followed was worse. When Ava returned from seeing Liam, her stepmother had been in a rage, screaming about the shame Ava brought upon the family. She had shoved Ava, and Ava, weak and dizzy, had fallen hard.

Now, lying on the floor of her grandmother' s tiny apartment, every part of her ached. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the worry gnawing at her. She hadn't been able to reach Grandma Rose for two days.

She forced herself up, ignoring the throbbing in her head, and made her way back to her grandmother's building. The door was unlocked. A cold dread washed over her.

She pushed it open and saw her. Grandma Rose was on the floor, a pool of dark blood spreading out from under her head.

"Grandma!" Ava screamed, rushing to her side.

Her grandmother's eyes fluttered open. She was trying to speak, but only a faint whisper came out.

The ambulance ride was a blur. Ava sat in the stark white waiting room of the ICU, her grandmother' s blood still on her clothes. The world felt silent and empty, except for the hatred that was starting to burn in her heart. Hatred for Martha, who the neighbors said had come by screaming for money the day before.

There was only one person who could help her now. Even after everything, a part of her still believed he would.

She found Liam at his office. He was on the phone, looking powerful and untouchable. When he saw her, his face clouded over. He finished his call and looked at her, his eyes raking over her bruised face and blood-stained shirt with disgust.

"What now, Ava?"

"I need a lawyer," she said, her voice hoarse. "My grandmother... she's in the ICU. I think my stepmother did it. Martha was there, screaming at her for money."

Liam leaned back in his chair, a cynical smile on his lips. "A lawyer? Can you afford my fees? I'm the best, and the best is expensive."

"I'll pay you," she said, her voice trembling. "I'll do anything."

"I don't represent family in these kinds of disputes," he said dismissively. "It's a conflict of interest."

Desperation made her reckless. "If it wasn't me," she asked, her eyes pleading with him. "If it was some stranger, someone who could pay you, would you help them get justice for their grandmother?"

He didn't hesitate. "Of course. That's my job."

His answer was a clean, brutal blow. It told her everything she needed to know. To him, she was less than a stranger. She was nothing.