CHAPTER NINE: THE FIRST CRACK
AVA MONROE'S POV
I didn't sleep that night.
The envelope sat on my bedside table like a loaded gun,daring me to pretend everything was normal.
But everything had shifted. Someone knew about Jake. About
the meeting. About me.
I stared at the ceiling, counting seconds. By morning, I had made a decision.
I needed to find out who was behind it, before Ethan did.
Breakfast was a silent war.
Ethan read the Financial Times. I sipped my coffee and tried not to choke on the anxiety rising in my throat.
He didn't speak. Neither did I.
But I could feel it, his eyes flicking up to observe me between paragraphs.
Was he testing me?.
Or just waiting for me to crack?.
Later that afternoon, I slipped away.
This time, I didn't go to Jake.
I went to her.
To her.
The woman in the photo with Ethan.
It had taken two weeks, several fake calls, and more social engineering than I care to admit, but I'd found her.
Her name was Natalia March.
A former model. Now a public relations consultant with
exclusive contracts in Europe.
And she was in New York for one week only.
I waited outside the art gallery where she was attending a private preview.
When she stepped outside, I approached her.
"Excuse me. Natalia March?"
She looked at me, guarded.
"Yes?"
"I'm Ava Kingsley."
Her expression shifted. From surprise to recognition, then
to something harder.
"Of course you are," she said. "You look like the headlines."
I ignored the barb. "I think we should talk."
She tilted her head. "And why would I talk to the woman who
married the man I was supposed to?" "Ah".
So that's what this was.
We sat on a quiet bench in Central Park.
The fall air was crisp. Leaves crunched beneath our feet.
"Let me guess," she said, crossing one leg over the other. "You want to know if I'm a threat."
"Are you?".
"No. Ethan ended it before your marriage. Cold. Without
warning."
I studied her. "But you were engaged?".
"Not officially. But in every way that counted, yes. We lived together. We planned a future. Then he disappeared for two months. When
he returned, he was different."
"What changed?"
"You, apparently."
That startled me.
Natalia leaned in slightly. "He never mentioned you before. Not once.
Then suddenly, he was marrying you. Publicly. Proudly. I thought maybe you'd put a spell on him."
"If I did, I'm still waiting for it to work."
She smiled, sad, bitter. "He's a master at pushing people out. At keeping things buried. But if he's watching you like you say…, maybe it means you matter."
I stood. "Or maybe it means he's scared."
She nodded. "And scared men make dangerous enemies."
When I returned home, the lights were off.
Too quiet.
I walked through the penthouse, tense, every step echoing louder than it should.
Then I saw it.
The photo.
Not the one from the envelope.
A new one.
On Ethan's desk.
Of me and Jake, again. But closer this time. Clearer.
I turned to find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Want to explain?," he asked.
I didn't lie.
"I have a brother. His name is Jake. We were close. Until everything fell apart."
"And now?."
"He's trying to help me survive this life."
"Or destroy mine?."
Silence stretched.
Ethan walked closer. Slowly. Measured. "You should've told me," he said.
"And you should've told me about Natalia."
That made him pause.
"She told you?."
"She told me everything. About your disappearance.
Your silence. Your habit of cutting people out without a word."
He rubbed a hand through his hair. "It wasn't personal."
"It always is."
We stood there, staring at each other across a space thick with unspoken truths.
Finally, he asked, "So what now?."
Now.
Now, I had leverage.
Now, I had a decision to make.
"Now," I said, "we either start trusting each other…, or we prepare for war."
He didn't respond.
But for the first time, he didn't walk away.
And maybe that meant the game had finally changed.