Chapter 4

The rumors spread through the police department and the news agency like wildfire. Ava Miller, the cold, ambitious journalist, had publicly humiliated the grieving widow of a fallen hero, driving the poor woman to collapse.

The next day, Mark cornered her in the office parking lot. His face was tight with rage.

"You're going to go to the hospital and you're going to apologize to Sarah," he ordered, his voice low and menacing.

Ava looked at him, at the stranger he had become. "I have nothing to apologize for."

"She's in the hospital because of you! Because of your jealousy and your cruelty!"

"She's in the hospital because she's a manipulative actress who fainted when her lies were exposed," Ava shot back.

"Damn it, Ava, I'm not asking you, I'm telling you! You are my wife. You will do as I say."

Ava laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "Your wife? Is that what I am? I seem to have forgotten."

His hand moved so fast she didn't see it coming. The slap was sharp and loud, the force of it snapping her head to the side. The sting on her cheek was nothing compared to the shock that jolted through her.

He had hit her.

Mark Johnson, the man who had sworn to protect her, had hit her.

He seemed as shocked as she was, his hand dropping to his side, his eyes wide with a flicker of regret. But it was too late.

"You... you heartless bitch," he stammered, trying to justify his action. "Look what you made me do."

Ava slowly turned her head back to face him, her eyes burning with a cold fire he had never seen before. She remembered him holding her after her miscarriage, promising to always be there. She remembered him on their wedding day, vowing to be her partner. All lies.

"What I made you do?" she whispered.

Then, with all the strength she possessed, she swung her own hand and slapped him across the face, hard. The sound cracked through the quiet garage.

Mark stumbled back, a hand flying to his cheek, his expression one of utter disbelief. He had never been challenged like this, never been met with anything but her love and patience.

Ava looked at him, at his shocked face, and felt a profound and final sense of release. The last embers of love she had held for him died in that moment, leaving behind only the cold ashes of disgust.

"We're done, Mark," she said, her voice clear and steady. "I'm filing for divorce."

She turned, her back straight, and walked away without a second glance. She didn't look back to see the stunned, broken man she was leaving behind. She just kept walking, towards her future.

A few days passed in a strange, silent truce. He didn't call. She didn't reach out. The divorce papers were with her lawyer.

Then, an email landed in her inbox from David, her editor.

"Ava, I need you on a story. It's a hero piece. Detective Mark Johnson. He single-handedly stopped a bank robbery last night. The department is putting him up for a commendation. They want a feature, a human-interest piece."

Ava stared at the screen, a cynical smile touching her lips. Of course. Mark the hero.

The brief attached to the email detailed his "heroic" act. He had been off-duty, driving home, when he saw the robbery in progress. He'd intervened, disarming one of the suspects. And what was the reason he was in that part of town, so far from their apartment, so late at night?

He had been on his way home from visiting Sarah Hayes, to check on her recovery after her "unfortunate collapse."

Ava let out a dry laugh. She typed her reply.

"I'll take it."

She would do the interview. She would be professional. She would write the story. And it would be the last thing she ever did for him.

She found him at the hospital, not in a press conference room, but in a private one. Sarah Hayes was there, sitting up in bed, looking pale but pleased. Mark was by her side, peeling an apple for her.

He looked up as Ava entered, a flicker of hope in his eyes. He thought she was there for him, to reconcile.

"Ava," he began.

"Detective Johnson," she said, her voice crisp and professional. She held up her press badge. "I'm Ava Miller, from the City News. I'm here to interview you about the bank robbery."

His face fell. Sarah, however, beamed.

"Oh, an interview! How wonderful! Mark was so brave."

Ava ignored her, her eyes fixed on Mark. She took out her recorder and placed it on the small table between them.

"Let's start from the beginning, Detective. Can you walk me through the events of that night?"

He answered her questions mechanically, his voice flat. He recounted the details of the robbery, the chase, the arrest. But when she asked for the small, humanizing details the feature piece required, he faltered.

"What were you thinking when you saw the gun?" she asked.

"Just... training kicked in," he mumbled.

"The report says you used a specific disarming technique, one that's quite risky. What gave you the confidence to do that?"

He hesitated, looking lost. "I... I don't remember."

Sarah jumped in, her voice bright. "Oh, I can tell you! He told me all about it. He was thinking about how he couldn't let anyone else get hurt, how he had to protect the innocent. Just like he protects me."