The day after I broke off the engagement, the world felt… quieter.
For the first time in months, maybe years, I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I didn't have to fit into Liam's carefully curated mold of a "wife"—poised, submissive, diplomatic.I had endured so much for him. No, I didn't have to pretend anymore.
I stood in the mirror and looked at myself—truly looked.
Gone was the woman who wore beige to blend in. Gone was the girl who smiled when she wanted to scream. I saw now that Liam had never loved me. He loved my family's name, our wealth, the reputation I maintained like a crown I was told never to drop.
But not anymore.
Today, I picked the mask I would wear—but it was one of my choosing.
I pulled my hair into a sleek bun, my makeup sharp, unapologetic. My black suit hugged my figure like a second skin. Power looked good on me. Felt good on me.
I met Gregory at my father's private office tower just after noon.
He was already waiting—impeccably dressed in charcoal gray, holding a leather briefcase and a phone in his gloved hand. Gregory had served as our family's legal and corporate strategist for years. Discreet. Brilliant. Loyal to a fault.
"Miss Lorne," he said, rising to greet me.
"I want everything ready, the NDA. The statement. The asset reassessment. And the prenuptial revisions—burn them."
"Understood," he said with a nod. "And the footage?"
"I want it saved," I said. "But not released. Not yet."
I met his eyes. "No one gets to paint the narrative but me. I'll choose when and how the world sees the truth."
We spent the next hour going over paperwork, revoking shared accounts and withdrawing access Liam had to anything that bore my name.
I wasn't just erasing Liam.
I was rewriting myself.
The final step came when I opened my private vault and pulled out the portfolio I'd kept secret—even from my family.
The Mask.
That was the name of the startup I had built in silence for over a year—an anonymous luxury fashion and lifestyle brand powered by AI stylists, digital identity protection, and female-led investments.
No one knew I was behind it. And now? I would take it public—with my face on it.
"I'm ready to step forward," I told Gregory, my fingers dancing over the polished silver logo on the folder.
Gregory closed his briefcase. "Then it's time to introduce Ava Lorne to the world. Not as my father's daughter. But as something far more dangerous."