Damien had a curious habit. He returned home late from work and disappeared early in the morning, often before she even stirred. It didn't take long for Ava to notice. She wasn't sure if he was trying to avoid her or if that was just his normal routine. Either way, his absence was a quiet, constant presence in the house.
She'd tried to ignore it at first, pretending it didn't bother her. But when she asked Emily about his schedule over tea one morning, the housekeeper confirmed her suspicion.
"Mr. Blackwood rarely eats meals, just coffee." Emily had said with a smile, resigned, folding a kitchen towel with practiced precision. "He mostly keeps to himself, work keeps him busy."
Ava had nodded with indifference, though it left her with a strange hollow feeling, it didn't surprise her. He didn't seem like the type who found comfort in routine or meals. He seemed... restless. Haunted.
Still, it worked. So when the butler, Harold, informed her that Damien had gone on a business trip, Ava didn't bat an eye. It was convenient, she'd thought, they didn't have to be in each other's face all the time. The less they saw each other, the easier the contract.
With Damien gone most of the time, they didn't have to act like a couple. No shared breakfasts, no awkward silences at dinner. There was no audience to convince, no pretending to be something they weren't. Their contract ran smoother that way.
And yet… something about the silence bothered her. As the days slipped by fast, Ava realized the convenience came with a price of loneliness.
The house was beautiful, no doubt, but it echoed. Without Damien or anyone really, it felt like living in a gallery. Perfect and untouched, but painfully still. Ava had no one. Lila was her only semi regular contact and even that felt more like a work connection than a true friendship. She was a colleague first and a friend second. Her mother, once her closest confidante was at a care center, battling dementia for three long years. Visits were often one sided, Ava talking and her mother staring out the window, humming something only she understood. Ava went to see her when she could, though each visit left her hollow.
Her father had vanished when she was thirteen. One moment, he'd been there, with his warm smile, bad jokes, the scent of aftershave lingering in the house. And the next… nothing, like he'd evaporated from her life. The search had stretched over months, then years, and eventually faded like an old bruise. She'd stopped believing he wanted to be found. So she buried herself in work for years, schedules, clients, deadlines. But now that work was gone too and she felt... displaced. As if her purpose had evaporated. She filled her days with little things. Grocery runs with Emily. Wandering the grand library. Endless scrolling on her phone. Sometimes, she cooked, though no one really ate what she made or simply staring out the large windows, watching the clouds roll across the hills.
She still hadn't ventured outside to explore the estate grounds, though Emily had once mentioned a horse ranch and a massive hedge maze tucked deep within the property. Ava had nodded at the time, vaguely interested, but hadn't made it past the back patio.
That evening, she stood barefoot in the kitchen, as she spread cream cheese on a slice of bread to make a sandwich, her phone rang.
It was Lila. Ava wiped her hands and answered.
"Hey, you alive?" Lila asked, her voice crackling through the line. "I've been texting."
"Sorry. I got lost in domestic paradise. What's up?" Ava muttered, biting into a corner of her sandwich.
Lila chuckled. "Well, just a heads-up. HQ wants to send you and Mr. Blackwood on a honeymoon. It's part of the premium couple package. All expenses paid, champagne and beaches, the works." It was just like the company did for every couple they matchmake.
Ava nearly choked on her snack. "Cancel it. No way I'm going on a fake honeymoon."
Lila exhaled heavily as if she had been expecting that reply. "You might want to talk to Damien first. He might actually…"
"He's busy and he's away on a business trip. He probably wouldn't care either way."
There was a pause. "You know, Ava... maybe this is exactly what you need. A break. An actual vacation. You've been burning out for years."
"I'm having all the breaks I can handle, thanks," she said dryly, eyeing the untouched books stacked on the counter. "I do nothing all day."
"Exactly," Lila said. "You're rusting. Go out. Travel. Dance a little, have fun. Live before the contract ends and you're buried in spreadsheets of work again."
Ava snorted. "What are you, my life coach?"
"I'll charge you later," Lila teased. "How about clubbing tonight? Just a drink, maybe some dancing. I'll drag you out myself if I have to or are you getting so comfortable in your husband's estate that you're so reluctant to leave?" She asked, her tone playful.
A small laugh escaped Ava's lips. The idea sounded foreign and freeing. "Alright. But just for a bit."
Ava hesitated. The estate did feel like it was wrapping around her tighter every day in a strange, unfamiliar way.
Lila squealed. "You won't regret it. I'll text you the club. I'll be there by 9. Dress hot but not too hot. I don't want to be overshadowed. Text me when you're on the way."
After hanging up, Ava tossed the rest of her sandwich in the trash. She climbed the stairs to her room, more excited than she wanted to admit. It had been a while since she'd gone out—not to attend a work function, not to impress a client, but just to feel like herself.
Later that evening, she stood in front of her wardrobe, biting her lower lip. She wasn't the clubbing type and hadn't packed for nights out.
Most of her clothes were modest, professional, or casual at best. Still, buried in the back was a black dress she'd impulsively bought but never worn.
It was sleek but tasteful, hugging her figure without being overly revealing. The neckline dipped just enough to be feminine, and the hem stopped mid-thigh, showing off her legs without feeling too exposed. She paired it with a black leather jacket, tousled her honey-brown hair into soft waves, and added a touch of mascara and gloss.
Downstairs, she headed for the drawer where Damien kept his ridiculous collection of car keys. She opened it slowly. Dozens of keys, each marked with minimal tags, lay in neat rows. It was like looking into the life of someone who could afford choices she'd never even imagined.
"Does he really drive all these?" She muttered. She had no idea was kind of cars they were but Damien had given the permission to drive whichever she was so she grabbed the first that caught her fingers.
She told Harold she'd be out for a bit and the butler nodded, surprised but polite. "Safe trip, ma'am."
Ava took the elevator down to the underground garage, her first time seeing it in person.
The doors slid open with a low hiss, and her jaw dropped.
The garage was bathed in soft, moody blue lights, giving it an almost futuristic glow. And parked beneath that glow were some of the most luxurious cars she'd ever seen in her life.
The cars gleamed like pieces of modern art. Rows of them lined the floor: Bugattis, Lamborghinis, a Rolls-Royce, a sleek Aston Martin, even a vintage Jaguar in deep emerald.
Her heels clicked softly against the pristine marble floor. She clicked the button on the key, and a sharp chirp echoed. A set of headlights blinked. The car that beeped in response to her key fob was a black McLaren 720S. It sat like a predator, glossy and purring low even before she touched the ignition.
"You've got to be kidding me," Ava muttered, running her hand lightly over the hood. This car probably cost more than everything she'd ever owned combined.
She slid into the driver's seat, the leather hugging her like it knew her name. The dashboard lit up like something out of a sci-fi film.
"I probably shouldn't drive this," she said aloud.
But she did.
She started the engine, the growl of it sending a thrill through her, and eased the car up the ramp and out of the estate's gates, city lights already twinkling in the distance.
For the first time in a while, Ava felt like she was in control.