Ava’s POV:
Saying yes felt like betrayal.
Not just of who I wanted to be, or who I’d fought to become—but of the fire in me that, for the first time in years, had actually believed in something. In a job that was mine. In a life I’d carved with my own name—even if that name was borrowed. In Liam.
But there were no good choices left. No satisfying endings. No righteous defiance or final speeches that would set me free this time.
There was only the reality: that my life had caught fire, that my mother still held the extinguisher. And that I was too tired to keep burning.
“It’s not an easy decision,” I said quietly.
My mother looked at me like she’d already won. Like she’d known I’d cave from the moment she stepped through the door. She probably had.
“I know,” she said, gently brushing non-existent lint off her coat sleeve. “But you’ve made the right one.”
Of course I had. The right decision, in her world, was the one that put her back in control.
“You’ll need to lay low for a while,” she added, tone almost motherly now. “We’ve already arranged for some time away—somewhere quiet, civilized. Discreet. Sweden, perhaps. You always said you liked the winter.”
“I said I liked the snow once when I was seven.”
She ignored me. “There’s a wonderful graduate program in Uppsala. Or if that feels too formal, you can stay with the Van Lier family in Brussels. They have a guest wing.”
“So exile, then,” I said.
Her lips twitched. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s an intermission. A sabbatical. A rebrand.”
And just like that, my voice vanished again.
Because I’d known this woman my entire life. I’d been raised by her, sculpted by her. I knew exactly how she worked—how she never raised her voice, how she never slammed doors. How she could devastate a person with three perfectly chosen words and a smile so polished it sparkled.
She didn’t scream to get her way.
She just made it so there was no other way.
So I nodded.
Because what else was there to do?
“Wonderful,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet like we’d just finished a pleasant brunch. “Now that that’s settled, let’s not waste any more time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve already made the call,” she said, glancing at her phone. “The staff will take care of packing your things. We’ll head straight to the airport.”
I blinked. “Wait—now?”
“Darling, the media cycle moves fast. The longer you linger, the harder it becomes to erase you from it. We don’t have time for a farewell tour.”
Before I could protest, she was already ushering me to the door. Her driver stood waiting. The black Bentley idled at the curb, doors open like the jaws of a well-fed beast.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Isabella.
Didn’t get to double-check that I’d grabbed everything.
Didn’t get to breathe.
By the time the car pulled away from the apartment, I was still trying to process how a single “yes” had unraveled my entire life again. My knees pressed tightly together, my hands curled in my lap, my phone muted and stashed deep in my coat pocket. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to see what else the world was taking from me today.
My mother sat beside me in silence, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable.
And as the Bentley rounded the corner at the end of the street, I turned my head slightly.
Out the window, in the rearview mirror—
A flash of movement. A man.
Black coat. Familiar stride. Hands clenched at his sides like he was ready to tear something apart.
Liam.
My heart slammed so hard I almost pressed my hand to my chest. But we were already gone. Already disappearing around the bend.
And he—
He had just missed me.