Ava Vitiello POV
The restaurant was a cavern of shadows, illuminated only by the flicker of candlelight and the distant, electric glow of the city skyline.
It was the kind of establishment where deals were struck in hushed tones and enemies were buried under polite smiles.
I was there for a critical meeting with the Commission regarding the waterfront construction projects. My father occupied the head of the table like a king on a throne. I sat at his right hand.
Liam arrived twenty minutes late.
And he wasn't alone.
He had Sarah with him.
My father’s jaw tightened visibly. Bringing a civilian mistress to a Commission dinner was an insult. Bringing the woman who had single-handedly detonated our wedding was a death wish.
Liam looked desperate, his eyes darting around the room. He needed this contract. I had already strangled his other income streams, leaving him gasping for air.
They took their seats at the far end of the table.
I watched them.
Sarah was wearing a dress cut dangerously low. And there, marred against the pale skin of her neck, was a bruise. A hickey.
It was trashy. It was a mark of possession, displayed like a tawdry trophy.
I felt a surge of cold disgust rising in my throat.
I excused myself quietly and made my way to the restroom.
I was washing my hands when the door opened. Sarah walked in.
She saw me in the mirror. She smiled. It was a cruel, sharp thing.
"Still following him around?" she asked.
I dried my hands on a paper towel, taking my time.
"You have something on your neck," I said.
She touched the hickey. She smirked.
"He can't keep his hands off me," she said. "He says I have a fire you never had."
I turned to face her fully.
She leaned against the sink, crossing her arms defensively.
"Face it, Ava. He never loved you. You were just a ticket to the top. But he chose love. He chose me."
I looked at her. I saw the trembling insecurity beneath the bravado.
"I know about the escort service in Chicago, Sarah," I said, my voice deadly quiet.
Her face went pale.
"I know about the NDA you signed with the senator," I continued. "I know you violated it."
She uncrossed her arms. Her hands were trembling.
"You're lying," she whispered.
I took a step closer.
"I have the file, Sarah. I have the photos. I have the client list."
She backed up until she hit the wall.
"Stay away from us," she hissed.
The door swung open. Liam burst in.
He looked between us. He saw Sarah's pale face.
"What did you do to her?" he shouted.
Sarah immediately burst into tears. She threw herself into his arms.
"She threatened me, Liam! She said she's going to hurt Chloe!"
It was a lie. A pathetic, desperate lie.
Liam looked at me with pure hatred.
"You stay away from my family, Ava," he spat. "Or I swear to God—"
"Or what?" I asked.
I walked past them to the door. I put my hand on the handle.
"By the way, Liam," I said.
I looked back at him.
"The Board met this morning. We pulled the funding for your tech startup."
He froze.
"What?" he breathed.
"The Vitiello family is no longer investing in high-risk ventures," I said. "Especially ones run by incompetent managers."
His face crumbled. That startup was his baby. It was his ticket to legitimacy. Without our money, it was dead in the water.
"You can't do that," he said.
"I just did."
I opened the door.
"Enjoy your dinner," I said. "I hear the calamari is excellent."
I walked out, leaving him standing in the bathroom with a crying woman and a dead career.
