Chapter 3 3

The penthouse felt hollowed out, stripped bare of my presence.

I had systematically erased myself.

Clothes, books, personal items – all gone.

Only Ethan's things remained, stark and masculine against the minimalist decor he favored.

I found the small, unopened velvet box from the disastrous Hamptons proposal on his nightstand.

I picked it up, opened it.

The diamond was indeed large, flawless, and utterly cold.

It represented nothing.

I dropped it into the wastebasket.

My resignation from Reed Innovate had sent shockwaves through the company.

My team, the people I'd mentored and led, called, begging me to reconsider.

"Ava, the company needs you. Ethan needs you."

"I need rest," I told them, my voice gentle but firm. "And independence."

The liberation in those words was a heady sensation.

Ethan finally called, his voice a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"Ava, what the hell is going on? First the resignation, now your assistant says you've cleared out your office. Are you seriously still upset about the Hamptons? The fire alarm was just faulty wiring. Chloe was genuinely unwell."

"I'm preparing for my wedding, Ethan," I said, the lie slipping out easily. Let him believe what he wanted.

"Oh. Right." He sounded distracted. "Well, don't take too long. Listen, Chloe gave me this small paperweight for my desk years ago. It's nothing special, just a polished river stone, but I like it. I can't find it anywhere. Have you seen it?"

The irony was a bitter, suffocating blanket. He cherished her meaningless trinket while I had purged a decade of my life from his home.

I disconnected the call.

His obliviousness was a shield I no longer needed to penetrate.

A few days later, my phone rang. It was Ethan again, his voice tight with urgency.

"Ava. Lenox Hill. Now."

"What happened?" I asked, my voice flat.

"It's Chloe," he snapped. "A pack of paparazzi swarmed her car. She fell. She's bleeding internally, losing a lot of it. The hospital is low on O-neg. They need your blood. Again."

Before I could refuse, he added, his tone a clear threat, "I still have your career in a briefcase, Ava. Don't make me open it. Get down here."

When I arrived at the hospital, the scene was a painful replica of the last. Ethan was there, his face a mask of anxious concern, focused entirely on the room where Chloe was being treated. He saw me, his expression hardening with impatience.

"What took you so long?" he demanded, his voice low and furious, completely ignoring the fact that I was still recovering myself.

He didn't care about my health, only about how I could be used to serve Chloe's.

This time, I was determined. This would be the final severing. The last drop of myself I would ever give him.

As I sat in the chair, the familiar needle in my arm, I saw her. Chloe, propped up on pillows, looking fragile. She caught my eye when Ethan was conferring with a doctor. Her mask of weakness slipped, replaced by a smug, victorious smile. I looked away, my gaze landing on Ethan. He was leaning in, listening intently to the doctor, his brow furrowed with concern for Chloe's condition, his posture protective.

A memory, sharp and painful, surfaced. Me, by his bedside after his Aspen accident, holding his hand through the night. Him, looking up at me, his voice weak but sincere, "You're my rock, Ava. Promise you'll never leave me." I closed my eyes, a single tear of grief for the woman I used to be, for the love I thought we had, escaping and tracing a cold path down my cheek.

I left the room feeling lightheaded and hollowed out, a ghost drifting through the busy corridor. As I passed the nurses' station, their hushed chatter reached my ears.

"Mr. Reed is so wonderful to her. You can see how much he loves her."

"I know! They make such a handsome couple. I hope she recovers quickly."

No one noticed me. The invisible woman whose lifeblood was sustaining their perfect picture.

This time, the break was absolute. Irreversible.