"I told myself it was just business. So why couldn't I look away?"
– Dylan Reed
---
Dylan's Point of View
"I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Andre said, leaning across and stretching out his hand toward Ava, who sat opposite us.
"I'm Andre."
"Hi, I'm Ava," she replied, her voice softer, almost shy. What happened to the fire from earlier?
We were seated in a beauty lounge, staff scurrying around, preparing everything for her transformation. If she was going to play Mrs. Reed, she had to look the part. One of the attendants approached me with a polite bow.
"We're ready for her, sir."
I nodded in Ava's direction, signaling for her to follow. Without sparing me another glance, she rose and walked away.
"I see you've met your match," Andre remarked, eyes following her.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked sharply.
For a moment, his gaze was serious, searching my face as if he were reading the truth I refused to acknowledge.
"What if… remember I said 'what if," he began carefully, "you end up falling for her?"
I stared at him, caught between annoyance and disbelief. "That's not going to happen. It can 'never' happen."
He tilted his head, unimpressed.
"It's just business," I added, harsher this time. "Besides, she's not my kind of girl. Too aggressive."
Andre said nothing, but disbelief was written all over his face.
When Ava returned, I caught my breath before I could stop myself.
Her velvet gown, slim-fitted, clinged to her figure with daring slits on both sides. Her hair fell in soft waves, her makeup subtle but luminous. They hadn't changed her much at all, just polished what was already there. And God help me, she didn't look bad at all.
Andre whistled softly. "You look different. In a good way."
Ava smoothed her gown nervously. "Different, yes," she admitted. "But I don't feel like me."
I couldn't take my eyes off her. My gaze lingered longer than it should, and for a dangerous second, I let myself think she belonged here, next to me. I forced myself to blink, to look away, and stood abruptly.
"Let's go. We're late."
The gala was a spectacle of gold and crystal, chandeliers casting light across a sea of gowns and tuxedos. Cameras flashed, reporters whispered, and all eyes turned when I walked in, hand in hand with Ava.
"Not a word," I'd told her earlier in the car. "Just smile."
And she obeyed, though the tension in her body was clear. Every smile she gave was tight, strained, her discomfort evident only to someone watching closely. Her steps were careful, her heels seemed like a brutal punishment to her, but she didn't complain.
Questions rose like a tide. "Mr. Reed, who is she?" "Your date?" "Is she the real deal?"
I didn't falter. My grip on her hand tightened as I looked the press dead in the eye.
"She's my girl, soon to be Mrs. Reed."
Gasps followed. Flashes exploded. Ava's smile wavered, but she held it.
And then, I saw her.
Asher.
She stood across the hall, her gown shimmering like liquid silver under the chandelier, her eyes locked on mine with a look that stripped me bare.
For a second, the noise of the gala dimmed. It was just her, Asher. My ghost.
She moved closer, weaving through the crowd until she stopped just a breath away. Her lips trembled before her voice did.
"Dylan," she whispered, my name breaking on her tongue. "It's been so long" she started, "the last time we didn't get to talk, there's something I need to tell you."
My chest tightened painfully. I had no words, only the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
Her gaze flicked to Ava's hand in mine, then back to me. Hurt swam in her eyes, but not anger, ache. "Why can't I move on like you have?," she muttered softly, almost broken. "Even when I tried to forget, I couldn't. Not for a single day."
The room felt smaller, her closeness suffocating. She inched forward again, as though pulled by something she couldn't fight.
Then it happened.
Her heel snapped against the polished marble floor. With a sharp gasp, she pitched forward, stumbling straight into me. Her ankle twisted badly under her weight, and before she could hit the ground, she clutched at me, collapsing against my chest.
The crowd erupted in whispers. Cameras flashed, catching every second.
"Asher," I muttered, steadying her as her body trembled in my arms.
"It hurts," she whispered, her fingers gripping the fabric of my jacket like a lifeline. "Don't let go. Please."
I couldn't. Not here. Not now.
I looked back just once. Ava stood frozen, her face unreadable, but I felt the weight of her silence cut deeper than the noise around us.
"Andre," I said, my voice clipped. "Take Ava home."
Then, without another word, I swept Asher into my arms, carrying her out through the crowd. Her head dropped against my shoulder, her perfume pulling me into memories I swore I had buried.
Every step I took felt like betrayal.
---
"They dressed me like his queen, but I still felt like a pawn."
– Ava Carter
Ava's Point of View
I stood frozen, my chest hollow as I watched Dylan carry her away.
The man who had ordered me to smile, to play his perfect role of Mrs. Reed, had just abandoned me, for a woman who clearly still owned a part of him.
Andre touched my arm gently. "Ava, come on. Let's get you out of here...." But his voice cut off mid-sentence. His entire posture shifted, eyes widening as if he'd seen a ghost of his own.
"Elena?" he breathed.
And then he was gone, swallowed into the crowd without another word.
I was left standing alone, velvet gown glinting under the lights, the whispers of strangers swirling around me like smoke.
Confused. Humiliated. Abandoned.
I turned, desperate to escape, when a voice slid through the chaos, smooth, unsettlingly familiar.
"Ava Carter. It's been forever."
My breath caught. My heart slammed against my ribs.
I knew that voice.