Marrying His Rival: The Heiress's Sweet Revenge

Ava Carlisle POV:

The knife slid through the crust of the baguette with a satisfying crunch. I hummed along to the song playing softly from my phone.

Tonight was a celebration.

Julian Sterling, my boy friend, had done it again. As the star forward for the New York Mavericks, he'd scored the winning goal in the final seconds of the game.

I opened the wine fridge, my eyes scanning the collection. I pulled out a bottle of Romanée-Conti, its dark glass cool against my fingertips. This was our tradition. A major win meant Kobe beef and the best wine I could get my hands on.

A soft smile touched my lips as I remembered. To fund his first elite training camp, I'd sold the jewelry my grandmother left me. I, Ava Carlisle, sole heir to the Carlisle Holdings fortune, had hidden my name and opened a small bakery in Brooklyn to support him through the lean years. He thought it was my quaint little hobby. He had no idea it was all a test. A seven-year test of love.

I pulled out my phone, opening the banking app. It was time to move some money from our joint investment account-the one I'd seeded with millions as our "family fund"-to cover a few upcoming expenses.

I typed in the password.

The screen loaded.

My smile froze.

Account Balance: $1.37.

A cold fist clenched in my stomach. I hit the refresh button. Once. Twice. Three times.

$1.37.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I gripped the cold marble countertop to steady myself. It had to be a system error. It had to be. Or maybe Julian had moved the money into a new investment and forgotten to tell me.

My fingers felt like ice as I tried to call him. The phone rang and rang, then went straight to voicemail. A knot of dread tightened in my chest.

My gaze swept across the living room and landed on his laptop, left open on the coffee table. The screen was still on.

I walked over, my bare feet silent on the polished floor. My intention was to log into the online banking portal, to see the transaction history. To find a logical explanation.

But that's not what I saw.

A chat window was open, a messaging app I'd never seen before.

The contact name at the top read "My little wildcat S."

My breath caught in my throat.

The last message, sent thirty minutes ago, glowed on the screen: "Baby, the money came through. You're amazing! Cody and I will be waiting for you at home, my hero."

My fingers, cold and numb, moved the cursor and clicked on the profile picture. A woman with strawberry blonde hair and a full face of makeup smiled sweetly at the camera.

I started to scroll up, my body trembling. The pet names and explicit messages were a blur. Each word was a physical blow.

"Ava the fool has no idea."

"I'll marry you as soon as I handle her."

"She's just a stepping stone."

Then I saw it. A screenshot of a bank transfer confirmation. The recipient was Scarlett Hicks. The amount was the exact sum missing from my account. The memo line read: "For my favorite girl and my son."

Son?

My mind went blank. I couldn't process the word.

I kept scrolling, my movements jerky, until I found a link to a social media profile. I clicked it.

The account was private, but Julian's laptop was logged in. The profile belonged to the woman, Scarlett.

The pinned post was a picture of her nestled in Julian's arms, her stomach slightly rounded. The caption: "Waiting for our little prince to arrive." The date was from four years ago.

I kept scrolling.

Photo after photo of their "family." Julian holding a little boy with blond hair, a boy whose eyes were a perfect copy of his.

The latest picture showed the boy, Cody, playing in a room I knew intimately.

It was the nursery. The one I had designed, piece by piece, dreaming of the day it would hold my child with Julian.

In the background of the photo, hanging on the wall, was a painting I'd given Julian as a graduation gift from college.

I stared at their happy, smiling faces-a perfect family of three. Then I looked down at my own hands, dusted with flour from the bread I was making for his celebration dinner.

The absurdity of it all, the sheer, crushing weight of the lie, churned in my stomach.

A violent wave of nausea sent me running to the bathroom. I retched over the toilet, but nothing came up. Only dry, heaving sobs that tore from my throat, hot tears streaming down my face.

I pushed myself up, my hands braced against the wall. In the mirror, a woman with a chalk-white face and bloodshot eyes stared back.

Slowly, I spoke to my reflection, each word a shard of glass. "Aveline Carlisle, you are a complete and utter fool."

I walked back into the living room. I didn't close the laptop. I didn't touch the half-prepared dinner on the counter.

I picked up my phone and deleted every text, every call, every photo of him.

Then, with a strange sense of calm, I walked back to the kitchen and took the bottle of Romanée-Conti from the counter.

I didn't bother with a glass.

I tilted the bottle to my lips and took a long, hard swallow. The expensive wine burned my throat, but it brought a shocking clarity to my shattered mind.

Julian .

You will pay for this.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed from the front door. He was back.

I didn't move. I leaned against the kitchen doorway, the heavy bottle in my hand, and watched the entrance.

The door swung open. Julian walked in, a tired but satisfied smile on his face. He hadn't seen me yet.

"Honey, I'm home!" he called out. "Guess what surprise I have for you tonight?"

Ava Carlisle POV:

I watched as Julian pulled a jewelry box from a designer shopping bag. His smile was the one he always used, the one he thought was deeply romantic. "To celebrate seven years together. A little something for you."

He opened the box. A diamond necklace lay inside, its sparkle feeling cheap and insulting compared to the millions he had just wired to another woman.

I didn't reach for it. I just lifted my chin, my eyes flicking toward the open laptop on the coffee table.

Julian's smile froze. He followed my gaze, and the color drained from his face. He saw Scarlett's chat window.

He lunged for the laptop, fumbling to close it, but it was too late. "Ava, listen to me, it's not what you think!" he stammered, his words a jumbled mess.

"What do I think?" My voice was dead calm, a frozen lake. "Do I think you transferred our entire joint account to your mistress, or do I think you have a three-year-old son with her?"

Julian's body jerked as if I'd struck him. He knew. He knew I'd seen everything. The panic on his face dissolved, replaced by the ugly irritation of being caught.

"Since you saw it all, I won't hide it," he said, his tone shifting to defiance. "Scarlett and I are in love. When I was injured and nearly lost my career, she was the one who stayed by my side, who encouraged me. She's my savior!"

The words "my savior" almost made me laugh out loud. I was the one who had anonymously funded his recovery, who had pulled strings to get him the best doctors in the country. He had given that credit to another woman.

"So?" I stared at him, my face a mask. "So you feel justified spending my money to support your mistress and your illegitimate child?"

"I can pay you back for the money!" Julian waved his hand dismissively. "Ava, let's just part on good terms. Name your price. How much do you want?"

I looked at his face, at the condescending expression of a man trying to pay off an inconvenience. Seven years of my life, and to him, it was just a transaction. My heart, which had been cracking all evening, finally turned to dust.

"I don't want a single cent from you," I said, turning and walking toward the bedroom. "Now take your things and get out of my house."

"Your house?" Julian laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "Ava, don't forget, this penthouse is in my name! Who are you to tell me to get out? A broke baker?"

The contempt in his eyes was so familiar. For seven years, he had seen me as this dependent, background-less girl.

I didn't argue. I walked into the closet and pulled out a suitcase I'd kept in storage. It was small. I only packed a few of my own clothes and personal items.

When I dragged the suitcase out, Julian stared, stunned. He must have expected tears, screaming, begging. He never expected me to just leave.

"Ava, where are you going? Stop this nonsense!" He reached for my arm, but I stepped aside, his hand grabbing at empty air.

"To a place without you." I pulled the suitcase behind me, walking toward the door without a backward glance.

The cold night air hit my face as I stepped out of the building. I realized I was shaking. I found a quiet corner away from the entrance and dialed a number I knew by heart.

The call was answered almost immediately. A calm, authoritative female voice came through the line. "Ava, my daughter. Have you finally come to your senses?"

"Mom," my voice trembled, but it was laced with a new, steely resolve. "I agree. I'll agree to the marriage with the Montgomery family."

My mother was silent for a few seconds. Then, her voice was all business. "Good. Beckett Montgomery, captain of the Boston Blades, the sole heir to the Montgomery family. He will be your most powerful ally. I've already made the arrangements. You'll meet him tomorrow."

"I understand." I hung up the phone and took a deep, cold breath.

I thought of the past seven years. Dropping out of an Ivy League school, giving up my entire world, just to be with him. I thought it was love. Now I saw it was just a one-woman show.

Tears blurred my vision again, but I forced them back.

From this day forward, Ava Carlisle was no longer a fool who humbled herself for love.

I would take back everything that was mine. I would make the people who hurt and belittled me pay a thousand times over.

A black Rolls-Royce glided silently to the curb in front of me. The driver got out and respectfully opened the rear door. "Miss Carlisle. Your mother sent me to pick you up."

I slid into the car, the soft leather seat enveloping me. Through the window, the apartment building where I had spent seven years of my life grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared completely.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

I took out my phone and sent a message to my mother. "Mom, the 'Starlight' project at Sterling Group. I want it stopped. Immediately."

Her reply was swift. "Consider it done. Enjoy the show, my daughter."

Julian, you thought I was just a weak little baker? You're about to find out exactly who you've crossed.

The car moved smoothly into the darkness.

Ava Carlisle POV:

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows of the presidential suite, looking down at the glittering expanse of New York City.

I took a sip of champagne, listening to the frantic voice of Robert Knight on the other end of the phone. He was the lead representative for the biggest investor in the 'Starlight' project.

"Miss Carlisle," Robert's voice was strained. "We've executed your mother's instructions. But are you certain you want to pull all investments now? The project is at a critical stage. A withdrawal of this magnitude will send Sterling Group directly into bankruptcy!"

"I'm certain," I said, my voice flat and emotionless. "Mr. Knight, this is a decision from the Carlisle family, is it not? As for the fate of Sterling Group, it is of no concern to me."

I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa. Julian, you looked down on me, the "baker"? You'll soon learn that the career you're so proud of is nothing but a sandcastle I can destroy with a single word.

I slipped off my heels and walked barefoot across the plush carpet to the bathroom, sinking into a tub filled with hot water and rose petals. I needed to wash away the cheap scent of the last seven years.

The water was warm, but a chill remained deep inside me. An image flashed in my mind: Julian and Scarlett, smiling in their "family photo," taken in the nursery I had built with my own hands.

I closed my eyes, forcing the image away.

After my bath, I changed into a simple black silk gown and sat at the vanity, applying my makeup with a steady hand.

My phone began to ring incessantly. Julian's name flashed on the screen. I let it ring until it went to voicemail.

A flood of text messages followed, his tone shifting from questioning to rage, and finally to begging.

"Ava, what did you do? Why are you trying to ruin me?"

"Answer the phone! You crazy bitch!"

"I was wrong, Ava. Please, can we just talk?"

A contemptuous smile touched my lips as I dragged his number to the block list.

As I expected, half an hour later, the doorbell of my suite began to ring frantically.

I looked through the peephole. Julian's face was a mask of anxiety and fury. He must have learned my location from Robert, as well as the fact that I was the one who ordered the withdrawal of funds.

I walked slowly to the door and opened it.

"Ava!" Julian burst in, grabbing my wrist. "Why would you do this? The 'Starlight' project is my entire life's work!"

Before I could answer, a delicate voice came from behind him. "Julian, please don't be like this. Let's talk things out. Don't scare Ava."

I saw Scarlett standing in the doorway, clutching her son, Cody, looking fragile and pitiful. She actually had the nerve to follow him here.

Scarlett's eyes darted around the opulent suite, a flash of envy in their depths before she masked it with her usual look of meekness.

"Ava," she began, her eyes welling with tears as she held the child tighter, "I know you're angry because of Julian and me. But the project is innocent. You can't destroy Julian's future over our personal issues."

Her son, Cody, must have been coached. He looked at me with wide, fearful eyes and whispered, "Auntie, please don't bully my daddy."

Seeing his mother and son's performance, Julian seemed to feel he had the moral high ground. He released my wrist and stepped in front of Scarlett, shielding her as he glared at me. "Ava, look what you've done to them! How can your heart be so cruel?"

I laughed. A real, genuine laugh at the sheer audacity. They had stolen my money and destroyed my life, and now they were ganging up to call me cruel?

"My heart is cruel?" I took a step forward, my cold gaze sweeping over the three of them. "Julian, when you were using my money to support your mistress and your illegitimate child, was your heart not cruel then?"

I turned to Scarlett, my smile growing colder. "And you, Miss Hicks. You come here wearing designer clothes bought with my money, living in an apartment paid for with my money, and now you stand before me pretending to be a saint. Don't you find that ridiculous?"

Scarlett's face went white. She never imagined I would know the details, let alone say them out loud.

Julian's face was a mess of ugly colors. He tried to argue, "I'll pay you back for the money..."

"Don't bother," I cut him off, my voice filled with disgust. "I'd feel dirty taking it."

I pulled a checkbook from my clutch. It was already prepared. In front of them, I wrote out a number, then tore the check out and threw it at Julian's face.

"Here's one million dollars," I said, my voice low but clear enough for everyone to hear. "Consider it payment for your services these past seven years. Now, take your mistress and your illegitimate son, and disappear from my sight."

Julian was completely enraged by my action. He snatched the check from the air, tore it into tiny pieces, and screamed, "Ava! Don't you go too far!"

"Too far?" I let out a cold laugh. "This is just the beginning."

I turned away from them and pressed the service button on the wall.

Within moments, two large hotel security guards appeared at the door. "Please escort these 'guests' out. From now on, they, and any dogs they might own, are not permitted to set foot in this hotel again."

Under Julian and Scarlett's shocked and humiliated gazes, they were forcibly "escorted" out. The closing door cut off their curses and the sound of the child's crying.