His Cruelest Sunny

To save my family's vineyard and my sister, I, Ava Hayes, agreed to marry Ethan Reed, my childhood friend turned enemy.

I hid a terminal illness silently consuming me.

It wasn't a marriage; it was a public humiliation.

At a lavish gala, Ethan announced his engagement to another, introducing me as his "desperate offering," a mocking "trophy."

Trapped, I became his property, enduring relentless physical and emotional abuse, worsened by my secret illness and his fiancée Chloe's sadistic torments.

Yet, I heard Ethan's inner thoughts-conflicted, sometimes tender, a secret lifeline that broke when his accidental blow severed our connection.

Then came the crushing truth: my own family had conspired in my mother's murder and abandoned me to die by withholding funds for my treatment.

Critically ill and with my last hope gone, Chloe abducted me.

She revealed her family's involvement in my mother's death, then cruelly forced an abortion, ending my life and our unborn child's.

My body vanished, my memory erased.

But what will Ethan do when the horrifying truth of my death and the child lost, finally surfaces?

The foreclosure notice felt like ice in Ava' s hand.

Morning Sun Vineyards, her mother' s legacy, was dying.

Not from blight or drought, but from debt.

Her father, Richard Hayes, had bled it dry to prop up his own failing Hayes Family Wines.

Now, the wolves were at the door, and the biggest one was Ethan Reed.

"He's offered a way out," Richard said later that day, his voice weak, avoiding her eyes.

Ava clutched the worn wooden sign of the vineyard, its paint faded like her hopes.

"What way?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"A merger... of sorts," Richard mumbled. "He'll save Hayes Family Wines, and by extension, Morning Sun."

"The price?" Ava knew there was always a price with men like Ethan Reed.

"A marriage," Richard finally said, looking away towards the struggling vines of his own commercial winery. "To one of his daughters. He wants to unite our influence in wine country."

Ava felt a bitter laugh rise. Influence? They were bankrupt.

"He means you, Ava," Richard clarified, his gaze finally meeting hers, full of a desperate plea. "Or Maya."

Ava thought of Maya, her sweet, innocent younger sister.

She couldn't let Maya be thrown to Ethan, a man whose reputation was as cold and ruthless as the winter frost.

And then there was the secret, a cold knot in Ava' s own stomach.

The doctors had given her a name for the creeping weakness, the tremors she tried to hide.

A rare neurodegenerative disease. Aggressive. Expensive.

"I'll do it," Ava said, her voice surprisingly steady.

She had to save the vineyard. She had to save Maya.

"But the money," she stipulated, "it stabilizes Morning Sun Vineyards first. My mother' s vineyard."

Richard sagged with relief, a wave of gratitude washing over his weak features. "Of course, of course."

Later, Maya found Ava packing a small bag.

"Ava, no!" Maya cried, tears streaming down her face. "Don't go! They say he's a monster!"

Ava forced a reassuring smile, hiding the tremor in her hand, hiding the death sentence hanging over her.

It's okay, she thought. I don't have much time left anyway.

This was a sacrifice she could make. A final act to protect what she loved.

She still remembered Ethan from childhood, the boy who called her "Sunny."

That boy was long gone, replaced by a corporate raider.

But maybe, just maybe, a sliver of that boy remained, enough to make this bearable.

There was no wedding.

Instead, Ethan Reed hosted the annual Napa Valley Vintners' Gala.

Ava arrived in a simple, elegant dress her mother had once worn, a knot of anxiety tightening in her chest.

She expected a quiet announcement, a business arrangement.

Then Ethan entered.

Chloe Vance was on his arm, glittering in diamonds, a triumphant smile on her perfectly sculpted face.

He looked at Ava, his eyes cold, devoid of any recognition.

He took the stage.

"Tonight," Ethan announced, his voice amplified, reaching every corner of the hall, "I'm pleased to announce my engagement to the lovely Chloe Vance of Vance Industries."

A polite applause rippled through the crowd.

Then, his gaze found Ava, standing alone near the entrance.

"And as for Hayes Family Wines," he continued, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, "I've also acquired a rather... desperate offering. A trophy, if you will, from their failing legacy."

He gestured dismissively towards Ava.

The room fell silent, then erupted in hushed whispers, cameras flashing.

Ava stood frozen, the humiliation washing over her in a burning wave.

She wanted to run, to disappear.

Ethan approached her, his smile gone, replaced by a chilling intensity.

"Dare to leave, cause a scene," he whispered, his breath cold against her ear, "and Morning Sun Vineyards will be dust by morning. Your father will be ruined. Your sister on the street."

Ava' s heart hammered. She was trapped.

She looked at him, searching for any sign of the boy she knew.

Nothing.

Then, a strange thing happened.

As her devastation peaked, a voice, his voice, echoed in her mind, clear as day, yet unheard by anyone else.

[This is too much for Sunny... She looks like she's about to shatter.]

Ava blinked, shocked. Sunny. He hadn't called her that in years.

Then, another thought, harsher, cutting through the first.

[No, I can't soften. Remember what they did to Mom and Dad!]

Ava swayed, putting a hand to her head.

It had to be the stress. Auditory hallucinations. That' s what Dr. Ramirez had warned could happen.

She straightened, her face a mask of composure, even as her world crumbled.

The press hounded her, their questions like barbs.

"Miss Hayes, what is your relationship with Mr. Reed?"

"Is this a hostile takeover?"

Ava said nothing, her dignity a fragile shield.

Her father and Olivia, her stepmother, stood across the room, avoiding her gaze, already celebrating their narrow escape from financial ruin.

Maya was nowhere to be seen, probably hidden away by Olivia.

Later, as they were forced to leave in the same car, Richard had the gall to hiss, "You made a fool of yourself, Ava! Standing there like a statue!"

Olivia chimed in, her voice dripping with malice, "You should have shown some gratitude. Ethan Reed saved us."

Ava didn't respond.

A cough rattled her chest, a familiar, dreaded sensation.

She pressed a handkerchief to her lips, hiding the flecks of blood.

It doesn't matter, she thought, leaning her head against the cold window.

The Reeds and the Hayes.

A feud that had started before she was born, something about Ethan's parents' tech company, a betrayal, financial ruin.

Ethan blamed her father.

Now, she was the price. The payment for sins that weren't hers.

Let it end, she prayed silently. Let this all just end.

Ethan' s estate was a monument to his success, sprawling and opulent.

Ava was not taken to the main house.

Mr. Henderson, Ethan' s stern, gray-haired butler, led her to a small, dilapidated guesthouse at the far edge of the property.

It was cold, sparsely furnished, and smelled of disuse.

"Miss Vance will reside in the main house with Mr. Reed," Henderson informed her, his tone devoid of warmth. "Your duties will be... outlined."

Ava understood. She was less than a guest, more like a prisoner.

Or a servant.

The chill in the guesthouse seeped into her bones, aggravating the ache that was a constant companion.

Her medication was losing its fight against the disease.

The next morning, her new life began.

"Mr. Reed requests you prepare his breakfast," Henderson announced, his face impassive.

Ava, once an aspiring winemaker, found herself in the vast, gleaming kitchen of the main house.

Chloe Vance swept in, dressed in silk, a condescending smile on her lips.

"Oh, you're making breakfast? How... quaint," Chloe said, watching Ava struggle with the unfamiliar stove.

Ethan arrived, his presence filling the room with a cold authority.

He didn' t even look at Ava.

He sat, and Chloe served him the eggs Ava had prepared.

Chloe took one bite, then recoiled dramatically.

"Ethan, darling, this is... inedible. It' s pure salt!"

Ethan' s eyes, cold and hard, finally landed on Ava.

He picked up the plate.

With a sudden, violent movement, he smashed it on the floor.

Eggs and shattered porcelain skittered across the polished stone.

Food splattered Ava' s worn jeans.

"Incompetent," Ethan snarled. "You will kneel there and reflect on your incompetence. For the rest of the morning."

Ava stared at him, defiance flickering in her eyes. "No."

His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Your father's company, your sister's comfort... they hang by a thread, Ava. My thread. Kneel."

The fight drained out of her. Her family's well-being was the chain around her neck.

As she slowly sank to her knees on the cold floor, she heard it again.

His inner voice, a stark contrast to his spoken venom.

[I shouldn't have agreed to let Sunny come here... This is wrong.]

Then, a wave of self-recrimination.

[Why is she so stubborn... doesn't she know how to cut corners? Is pride worth this?]

Ava knelt, the shards of porcelain digging into her knees through her jeans, the humiliation a burning fire.

Ethan and Chloe left the kitchen, their laughter echoing.

Hours later, Henderson told her she could rise.

Her legs were stiff, her body aching.

That evening, at dinner, a new torment.

The staff served Ethan and Chloe a lavish meal.

Ava was made to stand by the wall.

When they were finished, Ethan gestured to Chloe' s half-eaten plate.

"You will eat that," he commanded Ava, his voice flat. "In front of the staff. Penance for your mother's sins."

Chloe giggled, a cruel, sharp sound. "Oh, Ethan, you're terrible."

Ava' s stomach churned.

[Her mother's actions... they weren't her fault...] Ethan' s thought was a fleeting whisper of doubt in his mind, quickly crushed.

[No, Ethan, don't forget your parents... they were innocent too!]

Ava picked up the fork, her hand shaking.

She was beginning to understand. She wasn't hallucinating.

She was hearing his real thoughts, the conflict raging beneath his icy exterior.

It didn't make the humiliation any less, but it added a strange, painful layer of complexity.

She ate the cold leftovers, each bite a new degradation.

A week later, Ethan hosted a business party.

Ava was handed a maid' s uniform. Black, starched, ill-fitting.

"You will serve the guests," Henderson instructed.

She moved through the crowded rooms, a ghost in her own life, offering canapés and drinks.

She saw the pitying glances, heard the whispered gossip.

Chloe, resplendent in a red gown, "accidentally" bumped into Ava, spilling a tureen of hot soup down Ava' s arm.

Ava gasped, biting back a cry of pain as the scalding liquid seared her skin.

She didn't make a sound, just set the tureen down and fled to the kitchen to run cold water over the burn.

Later that night, huddled in the cold guesthouse, she saw a silhouette outside her door.

Ethan. He placed a small tube of burn cream on her doorstep, then hesitated, and walked away.

Ava' s heart gave a strange flutter.

Before she could reach it, another figure darted out from the shadows – Chloe.

Chloe snatched the cream, a malicious glint in her eyes, and disappeared.

The small gesture of kindness, stolen.

The next day, Chloe was by the pool, a picture of leisurely elegance.

Ava was ordered to clean the already spotless patio tiles.

As Ava scrubbed near the pool's edge, Chloe "tripped," her arm "flailing," and shoved Ava hard.

Ava lost her footing and fell into the ice-cold early autumn swimming pool.

The shock of the cold water stole her breath.

She surfaced, gasping, a violent cough racking her body.

She tasted blood, warm and metallic, and quickly turned her head, coughing it into the pool water, hoping no one saw.

Ethan appeared at the edge of the pool, looking down at her.

"The patio isn't clean enough," he said, his voice like chips of ice. "Get out and do it again."

He hadn't seen the blood. Or if he had, he didn't care.

Her illness was progressing. The cold, the stress, the constant humiliation – they were a potent, deadly cocktail.

She hid it, though.

She applied makeup carefully each morning to hide the dark circles under her eyes, the sallowness of her skin.

She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

This is a game to you, Ethan, she thought, scrubbing the tiles with numb fingers. Let's see how long I can play.

He found a new torment.

The rose garden. His mother' s prized collection.

Ava was ordered to prune the thorny bushes. Without gloves.

Her hands were soon scratched and bleeding.

Ethan strolled by with Chloe.

"Look, darling," Chloe said, pointing at Ava's hands. "Blood roses. How very dramatic."

Ethan' s lips curved into a cruel smile. "Fitting, wouldn't you say?"

One afternoon, Henderson ordered her to clean Ethan' s private study.

It was a room filled with books, success, and the lingering scent of his expensive cologne.

Tucked away on a high shelf, almost hidden, she found it.

A small, hand-carved wooden finch.

Delicate. Perfect.

A bird they used to watch together in the vineyards, long ago, when they were children.

A tiny, faded tag was tied to its leg. "E for Sunny."

The "Sunny" was smudged, as if by a tear.

Her breath hitched.

He had made this. For her.

When Ethan returned, she held it out, her hand trembling.

"Did you... did you make this for me?"

His face hardened, his eyes unreadable. "That's an old trinket. Means nothing. Put it back."

He turned away.

But she heard his thoughts, raw and agonizing.

[I carved this for your 16th birthday, Sunny. The day I came home to find Dad had collapsed... Why, Sunny, why did your family have to destroy mine?]

Tears welled in Ava' s eyes. He snatched the finch from her, his fingers brushing hers, a spark of unintended warmth.

Then he strode to the fireplace, and without a word, tossed the finch into the flames.

Ava cried out, a small, wounded sound.

He watched it burn, his face a mask of stone.

She felt the heat on her face, the smell of burning wood, the death of a memory.

The pain was a physical thing, twisting inside her.

She stumbled out of the study, back to the guesthouse, clutching a small, charred feather she' d snatched from the hearth when he wasn' t looking.

She found an old photo album her mother had kept. Pictures of her and Ethan, young, laughing, inseparable.

Sunny and E.

The contrast between then and now was a fresh wave of agony.

She hid the feather inside the album. A secret relic of a love that had turned to ash.

The next week, Chloe' s diamond necklace went "missing."

A frantic search ensued.

Of course, it was "found" tucked under Ava' s thin mattress in the guesthouse.

Chloe feigned shock and outrage. "I knew it! That little thief!"

Ethan dragged Ava into the main hall.

"Did you steal this?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low.

"No," Ava said, meeting his gaze. "I didn't."

He didn't believe her. No one would.

[Sunny wouldn't steal. Chloe's games are childish. Fine, I'll punish her 5 more times like this, then let her go.]

His internal calculation. Five more.

Ava almost sagged with a twisted kind of relief. An end. A quantifiable amount of suffering.

"Five more times, Ethan," she whispered to herself later, alone in her cold room, the accusation of "thief" ringing in the house. "I don't know if I can make it."

She was so tired.

She imagined letting go, not of life, but of the bitterness, the resentment.

Ethan passed her door, paused. He must have overheard her whisper.

Later, she found a bottle of strong pain medication outside her door.

Chloe found it first. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion and a deeper, possessive jealousy. She took the pills.

Chloe had a prized orchid, a rare, delicate bloom.

Ethan, in a new fit of calculated cruelty, ordered Ava to care for it.

Ava, weak from her illness, her hands still raw from the roses, accidentally broke a single, fragile petal while watering it.

Chloe discovered it and shrieked as if Ava had committed murder.

She dragged Ethan to see.

"She destroyed it! My beautiful orchid! She did it on purpose!"

Ethan' s face was thunderous. He grabbed Ava by the throat, his fingers tightening.

Ava gasped, her vision swimming.

[Only 2 more times...] His thought, a chilling countdown.

Chloe, seeing her advantage, added fuel to the fire.

"She's just like her mother, isn't she? Always using underhanded tactics. I heard her mother wasn't as pure as everyone thought."

The mention of Ava's mother, whom Ethan's parents had once trusted, ignited a fresh inferno in his eyes.

He squeezed harder.

[Stop! Don't lose control! Two more times... two more...]

He released her just as black spots danced before Ava' s eyes. She crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.

"You are nothing," he spat. "Less than nothing."

She lay there, her body trembling, the ghost of his fingers on her skin.

Two more.

The next day, Chloe had a new idea.

"For the memorial of Ethan' s parents," Chloe announced brightly at breakfast, "we should do a charity hike. Up Mount St. Helena."

Ethan looked at her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"And Ava," Chloe continued, her smile saccharine, "to show her true remorse for her family's sins, should do it barefoot. Carrying a heavy memorial plaque."

Ethan didn't object. His silence was consent.

Ava looked from Chloe' s triumphant face to Ethan' s impassive one.

Barefoot. Up a mountain.

The plaque was marble, heavy, its edges sharp.

The hike was agony.

The trail was rocky, uneven. Her bare feet were quickly cut, bruised, then bloodied and raw.

Each step was a fresh wave of pain.

Her lungs burned. Her vision blurred.

She stumbled, fell, picked herself up, and continued.

The weight of the plaque pressed down on her, a physical manifestation of the guilt Ethan had heaped upon her.

She reached the summit, the view a dizzying panorama she barely registered.

She placed the plaque on the designated memorial spot.

Then, she collapsed, unconscious.

Ethan, who had arrived by a less strenuous route with Chloe, saw her crumpled form.

For a fleeting second, a pang of unprecedented fear, sharp and cold, pierced through his anger.

Chloe, ever watchful, quickly diverted his attention. "Darling, look at the view! Isn't it breathtaking?"

He turned away from Ava.

Lying there, on the cold stone, Ava didn't hear his thought, but it hung in the air around him.

[Sunny, you must hate me now, don't you?]

She was bleeding, broken, and utterly alone.