The Golden Canary Flies Away

"Ava, it's a decision from the top. There was nothing I could do."

My team lead handed me a box of tissues as I was summarily dismissed, the official reason being a fabricated error. Everyone knew the real reason: my boyfriend, Nathan Hayes, was making room for Chloe Davis, his high school sweetheart and the company' s co-founder, back from abroad.

Just then, Nathan' s black Maybach pulled up, and Chloe emerged, linking her arm through his. He walked past me as if I didn' t exist, guiding Chloe into the building. My heart tightened. I went to our penthouse, cooked his favorite ribs, and sent him a picture: "Coming home for dinner? Made your favorite honey-glazed ribs." The message was read, but no reply came. Of course not. He was with Chloe.

Days later, Nathan finally came home. He saw my pharmacy bag: "You went to the hospital?" I lied, saying it was just a cold. He pulled me into an embrace: "You're not mad I fired you, are you?" I said no. I couldn't be. Three years ago, he saved me from my mother' s gambling debts, and I became his. His kept woman.

Then, Chloe's friend, Brenda Smith, found me. She showed me texts of my messages to Nathan, saying he and Chloe laughed about how pathetic I was. She slapped me, slammed my head against the table. I woke up in the hospital, Nathan by my side. He didn' t care about my pain; only about Chloe' s reputation.

A part of me had died that day. Nathan wanted his "white knight" and his obedient canary in a cage. But he didn't know his "golden canary" had started digging her own way out.

"Ava, it's a decision from the top. There was nothing I could do."

My team lead looked at me, his face full of apology. He slid a box of tissues across the table, but I didn't take one.

The official reason for my dismissal was a supposed error in a recent case, a mistake that made the entire legal department look bad. I was the scapegoat.

Everyone in the company knew about my relationship with Nathan Hayes. I was his girlfriend, the unofficial lady of the house. No one here would have the guts to fire me.

If someone had to do it, it could only be him.

I understood. He was making room. Chloe Davis, his high school sweetheart and the company' s co-founder, was back. She was his saving grace, the one he never got over. Firing me was his way of showing her she was his priority now.

I nodded at my lead. "I get it. It's not your fault."

My voice was steady, calmer than I expected. A year ago, he had moved my desk himself, placing it right by the window. "This way, I can see you whenever I look out my office," he had said, his voice a low murmur against my ear.

Now, the blinds on his office window were pulled shut.

I didn't bother looking up. I walked back to my desk, packed my few personal belongings into a cardboard box, and left without a second glance. The building's automatic doors slid open, and the city air hit my face.

Just then, Nathan' s black Maybach pulled up to the curb.

He got out, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door. He held his hand over the doorframe, a protective gesture to shield the woman's head as she stepped out.

It was Chloe.

She was a socialite, the daughter of a wealthy family, and Nathan' s first love. She linked her arm through his, her smile bright and easy. Nathan looked down at her, his eyes full of a doting affection I hadn't seen in a long time.

He saw me standing there with my box. His gaze met mine for a second, then flickered away as if he hadn't seen me at all. He walked right past me, guiding Chloe into the building.

A sharp pain tightened in my chest. I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address to Nathan's penthouse.

Our penthouse.

I let myself in, the silence of the apartment feeling heavier than usual. I went to the kitchen and started cooking, following the familiar routine. I made his favorite honey-glazed ribs, the scent filling the empty space.

I arranged the food on a plate, took a picture, and sent it to him.

"Coming home for dinner? Made your favorite honey-glazed ribs."

I waited. The message showed as delivered, then read. But no reply came.

Of course not. He was with Chloe.

The news about Nathan and Chloe was everywhere. Tech blogs, society pages, even mainstream news sites. They were the golden couple, reunited at last.

He hadn't come home or contacted me in days. During that time, I'd been to the hospital more than once.

"Are you sure you're okay, Ava?" my friend, Dr. Ethan Miller, asked, his brow furrowed as he looked at my chart. "These results are not good."

I clutched the test results in my hand, the paper crinkling in my fist. "I'm fine, Ethan. Just need to rest."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. He just gave me a sad, knowing look.

I went back to the penthouse. When I opened the door, I saw Nathan's shoes by the entrance. He was home.

My heart did a strange little jump. I quickly hid the medical reports in my purse and took out a small bag of cold medicine I' d bought on the way.

Nathan came out of the bedroom, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his hair slightly damp. He looked tired but impossibly handsome.

"You went to the hospital?" he asked, his eyes landing on the pharmacy bag in my hand.

I nodded, holding it up for him to see. "Just a cold. The doctor gave me some shots and meds."

He visibly relaxed. He walked over, took my hand, and pressed it to his cheek. The familiar warmth of his skin was a fragile comfort.

"I've been so busy, I didn't even notice you were sick. How did you catch a cold?"

I stayed silent. His tenderness was a well-practiced performance, so easy to mistake for real affection.

He pulled me into an embrace, his chin resting on top of my head. "Stay home and rest. I'll stay with you tonight."

That night, after he made love to me with a desperate, almost possessive energy, he held me in the dark.

"Ava," he whispered, his voice rough. "You're not mad I fired you, are you?"

I paused, my body stiffening in his arms. Then I forced myself to relax. "No," I said softly. "I'm not mad."

I had no right to be.

Three years ago, my mother was drowning in gambling debt. Creditors were showing up at my door, threatening me. I was working at a high-end bar to make ends meet, and one night, they cornered me in the alley.

Nathan found me there. He was drinking away his sorrows because Chloe had just left him to go abroad. He saw what was happening, stepped in, and paid off everything I owed with a single wire transfer.

Our fates became intertwined that night. I became his. His kept woman.

For three years, I played my part. I was the dutiful, obedient, and supportive partner. All I wanted was to take care of him. I asked for nothing more.

He found my compliance endearing. He held me tighter.

"Ava, you're my golden canary," he murmured into my hair. "The one who can never, ever leave me."