The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Smith mansion, casting long beams across the polished floors. Ann sat in the living room, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the family photographs lining the mantel. The memories stared back at her: her parents' warm smiles, Davis' mischievous grin, moments of love that could never return. Oliver approached quietly, carrying a tray with a cup of tea and a small plate of toast. "Ann," he said softly, placing it beside her, "I've made breakfast for you. Just something light." She looked at him but did not move. Her lips pressed together, and her eyes were hollow, yet calm. "Thank you," she murmured. "But I'm not hungry." "I know," Oliver said gently, taking the seat across from her. "I just… I want you to have something. Even a sip of tea. For strength. For yourself." Ann remained silent, her fingers brushing over the edge of the cup. Finally, she spoke, her voice low but steady. "Oliver… I think it's time." He paused, looking up, concern flickering in his eyes. "Time? Time for what?" "To go somewhere quiet," she said. "Somewhere I can think. Somewhere I can… rest my mind. For a while." Oliver leaned forward, his expression softening. "Ann… you know you don't have to do this. You can stay here. We can handle it together." "I know," she replied. "But staying here… it doesn't help. I need a place where I'm not reminded of everything I've lost. Where I can be alone with my thoughts… without interruption." He reached out, taking her hand gently. "I'll come with you," he said. "I'll be there. I promise." Ann finally lifted her eyes, meeting his. There was no suspicion in her gaze, no doubt. Only a quiet, fragile trust. "I know," she whispered. "That's why I'll go. But I want to do it on my terms." Oliver nodded slowly. "Of course," he said. "I'll respect that. You're not being forced." The decision had taken weeks to form, though she had not told anyone else. Ann had observed herself, measured her grief, and realized she needed silence more than anything else. The idea of leaving the mansion, leaving the memories, even temporarily, felt like the only way to gather her thoughts without the constant ache pressing against her chest. Later that afternoon, a sleek black car pulled into the driveway. The driver stepped out, opening the rear door. Oliver walked beside Ann, guiding her gently toward it. She paused at the top of the steps, taking a deep breath.
"I'll be back," she said quietly, more to herself than to Oliver. "I know," he replied softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "I'll be waiting for you. Every day, if that's what it takes." She gave a faint nod and stepped into the car. The leather seat was cold beneath her, and she pressed her hands together in her lap, holding them tightly as the door closed. Oliver walked around to the driver's side, sliding into the passenger seat beside her. "Ready?" he asked. She exhaled slowly, her chest tight with a mixture of relief and unease. "As I'll ever be," she said. The car rolled smoothly down the driveway and out onto the quiet street. Rain began to fall lightly, tapping against the windows. The rhythm matched her pulse , slow, steady, and unyielding. She stared out at the world passing by, watching the trees bend under the gentle wind, the houses lining the road. Everything looked normal, untouched. But for Ann, the world was irreparably broken. "I trust you," she said softly, turning to Oliver. "I trust you completely." "I know," he said, placing his hand over hers for a brief moment. "And I'll always be here. You'll see me every day."
She nodded, allowing herself a small measure of comfort in his words. Though grief had hollowed her out, she still found solace in his presence. She leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the car's movement lull her.
The hospital came into view, its tall white walls shining in the afternoon rain. Ann's grip on her hands tightened. She didn't feel fear, exactly, but a strange, tense anticipation — the feeling of stepping into a new world, a new chapter of her life. As the car stopped, Oliver took her hand once more. "This is temporary," he said gently. "Just until you feel ready. I promise." "Yes," she whispered. "Temporary. That's all I need." The doors opened, and she stepped out, the rain soaking lightly through the hem of her dress. Nurses and staff awaited her, polite and professional, ready to assist. She walked with calm determination, each step measured, deliberate. She did not stumble. She did not cry. She walked as though she owned the moment, even though inside, her heart was a storm of pain, loss, and simmering grief. Oliver followed closely, guiding her through the admissions process. "You're strong," he said quietly. "Stronger than anyone realizes." I have to be," she replied softly. "I have no other choice." The final step came as the doors closed behind her. She paused for a moment, turning back to see Oliver standing just outside, the rain running down his coat. He gave her a reassuring smile and a small nod. Ann let herself be guided into the quiet halls of the ward. She was still in control. She had chosen this. It was temporary. Safe. But as the doors clicked shut, the weight of her world pressing against her chest, she realized something that terrified her: the silence around her might be exactly what she needed and yet, it was also exactly where the seeds of her revenge could begin to grow. She whispered under her breath, almost to herself, almost a vow: "They are gone. But I am still here. And when the time comes… they will pay." Ann stands in the room, the window showing the gray sky outside, the rain falling steadily, her fists clenched at her sides. A calm, controlled resolve had settled over her grief , quiet, patient, unyielding. Ann had entered the ward voluntarily, but she had also entered the first stage of revenge in her heart.