Chapter 2

Roman paused with his back to her. He did not turn around, and his voice revealed nothing. "Lia has anemia. The doctor said she needs sunlight. The master bedroom faces the morning sun, so she has been using it." He turned then, meeting Ava's gaze with a tone that carried a faint sense of inevitability. "And you just came back. You need absolute quiet to recover. This room is better for that." This room is better—four simple, offhand words. However, they jolted loose a memory. When they had first moved in after their wedding, Ava had complained that the villa was too vast and too cold. She had wanted to return to Harborcrest, so Rowan had summoned a designer that very night, had torn down the adjoining wall, and built her a sun-filled glass conservatory. He had held her tightly as he whispered against her ear, "My Ava deserves the best in the world. I want you to wake up every morning to sunlight and the flowers you love." And now, this same man was calmly telling her that Lia needed the sunlight more. Ava stood at the edge of her own memory when Lia approached with a trembling cup of milk, shattering the moment. "Ava," she said, offering the cup with wide eyes that held no trace of fear. "Have some warm milk. It will help you relax." Ava was about to refuse when Lia's wrist snapped downward without warning, and a sharp cry broke out. The entire cup of scalding milk splashed across the back of Ava's hand, the skin blistering red at once. Lia, meanwhile, stumbled backward and struck her forehead against the sharp corner of the doorframe, blood welling immediately. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, pitiful and aggrieved. "Rowan, I'm sorry. I didn't hold it steady. Please don't blame Ava." Rowan's expression darkened. He swept Lia into his arms and fixed Ava with a stare cold enough to pierce bone. It was a look of disappointment she had never seen before. "Ava, it's only been three years. How have you become so different?" he said. Ava tilted her head, studying them both. Then, she reached for the remaining glass of milk, lifted it, and poured it directly over Lia's hair. "That first spill wasn't mine. This one is," she said. Rowan froze. His gaze flicked to the raw redness on Ava's hand, but he still could not harden his heart. "I know you're upset, but don't take it out on Lia. Her heart is weak." His voice cooled. "But this is the first and last time. If it happens again, I won't take your side." With that, he carried the weeping Lia downstairs without another glance at Ava. Watching Rowan's retreating back, Ava began to laugh softly. The sound echoed down the empty corridor, hollow and bleak. Once, a tiny cut on her hand had sent Rowan summoning every doctor in the hospital. Now her skin was burned raw, and he left her behind without hesitation, holding another woman in his arms. How fitting. Rowan, she thought, this was the price for me dragging myself out of hell to save you. Her phone rang sharply, slicing through her thoughts. A message flashed on the screen from an unknown number. "I told you Rowan never deserved you. Come back to me, Ava." Ava deleted the texts without expression and returned to the guest room. … The next evening, Rowan hosted the welcome-home banquet for her as planned. Cloudcrest Pavilion, the most extravagant venue in Westhaven, blazed with light. Guests filled the hall, eager to glimpse the woman the city's heir had recovered after three lost years. However, what should have been a stage for two suddenly became a stage for three. Ava arrived in a black dress, cold and regal. Rowan stood beside her with Lia wrapped tightly around his arm. "Rowan, this seared foie gras is amazing. Try it?" Lia lifted a silver fork and raised it directly toward Rowan's lips. Curiosity flickered through the watching crowd. Rowan's gaze passed, quick as a shadow, across Ava's impassive face. Then, after a brief hesitation, he opened his mouth and accepted the bite. A tiny, needling sting pierced Ava's chest. Not sharp, not overwhelming, but persistent. She remembered how he used to refuse being fed in public, insisting it was beneath his image. "Mm." Rowan swallowed, his tone neutral, betraying nothing. Lia's smile spread like a victory she had expected. She pressed herself closer to him and let out a plaintive sigh. "Rowan, my feet hurt. I've been standing too long."