2

Ava stepped forward, her voice steady, her expression calm despite the storm breaking loose in their living room.

“I don’t know what you heard, but I would never do that,” she said quietly, looking directly at Deirdre. “I’ve never touched your accounts. I don’t even know how I would. I’ve always respected you, even if you don’t like me.”

Deirdre scoffed, arms crossed tightly. “Oh, stop playing the saint. You think I don’t see what you’re doing? Acting all sweet and innocent, clinging to my son, using that poor-teacher act to make him feel like a hero.”

Ava’s throat tightened. She clenched her fingers behind her back but didn’t break eye contact. “I love your son, ma’am. That’s all I’ve ever done.”

“Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ You’re not my equal.” Deirdre’s voice cracked like a whip. “You came from nothing, and you think marrying into wealth makes you something. It doesn’t. You’re still the same low-class girl who probably practiced how to snag a rich man in front of the mirror.”

“That’s enough,” Alexander said sharply.

Deirdre turned to him, rage painted across her face. “No. No, it’s not. You’re blind, Alexander. You think this is love? She’s using you.”

“She’s not,” he shot back. “You’re wrong.”

“She’s not your type! You need a woman who belongs in your world! Not one who’s too busy writing on blackboards and gluing paper crafts with kids.”

Ava winced, and Alexander’s jaw clenched.

“She’s smart,” he said firmly. “She’s talented. She helps me with work sometimes and comes up with ideas even my team wouldn’t think of. She makes me better.”

Deirdre rolled her eyes. “Of course she does. She’s feeding your ego. That’s how women like her work. Say the right things, smile at the right time. Next thing you know, your accounts are empty, and your reputation’s gone.”

“I know my wife,” Alexander said, stepping between them. “If something happened, there’s a mistake somewhere. But I’m not going to stand here and let you insult her like this.”

Ava stood behind him, her lips pressed together, fighting the burn in her eyes. She didn’t deserve this. She never asked for any of this drama. All she wanted was a simple, happy life with the man she loved. And now, his mother was tearing it down piece by piece.

“You’re defending her over your own mother?” Deirdre asked, voice sharp with disbelief.

“You barged into my home, threw accusations, and called my wife a liar,” Alexander said, his voice cool but stern. “You want respect? Then act like someone who deserves it.”

Deirdre’s face tightened, but her eyes never left Ava. “This isn’t over,” she hissed. “You may have fooled him for now, but I’ll be watching. One wrong step, and I’ll bury you.”

Then she turned, her heels tapping as she stormed out, bodyguards falling into step behind her.

Silence returned to the apartment, thick and heavy.

Ava swallowed hard, still standing behind the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on the table. Alexander turned around and walked to her. He touched her face gently, brushing a tear away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he murmured.

Ava shook her head, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay…”

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

She leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. “You believe me, right?”

“Always.”

And in that moment, even with everything crashing around them, they held on a little tighter.

-

-

-

It was past midnight.

The city outside their penthouse was quiet, lights twinkling faintly through the tall glass windows. Inside their bedroom, the soft hum of the AC and Alexander’s steady breathing were the only sounds.

Ava lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

She should have been fast asleep. Especially with her husband’s arms wrapped tightly around her, his bare chest warm against her back, his leg slung over hers, claiming her in the way he always did when they slept. At one point, he had kissed her cheek in his sleep, murmuring something incoherent but soft…gentle. His lips had lingered against her skin, and she’d felt her heart flutter like a schoolgirl’s.

But the warmth in her chest couldn’t drown out the weight sitting there.

Deirdre.

Every word the woman had said replayed in her mind, loud and cruel. It wasn’t just the accusations. It was the hate. The way she looked at her…as though Ava had stolen something.

She hadn’t married Alexander for his wealth. She never even imagined someone like him would love her. But he did. And she loved him just as deeply, maybe even more.

Still, Deirdre’s disapproval burned.

Ava turned carefully, trying not to wake him. She looked at his face…peaceful, slightly scruffy, hair a little messy. Even in sleep, he looked every bit the man who made her feel safe. His hand tightened around her waist unconsciously, pulling her closer. She smiled faintly.

“You always hold me like you’re afraid I’ll vanish,” she whispered.

He didn’t respond. Just shifted again, pressing a soft kiss to her neck this time.

Ava closed her eyes. She should just enjoy this moment. But her heart wouldn’t let her.

She had to do something. She couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t bother her. Because it did. It tore at her, knowing she was the reason Alexander had argued with his mother.

She knew Deirdre wouldn’t change overnight. Maybe never. But she had to try. For Alexander. For their future.

Ava placed her hand over his and let herself breathe him in.

Tomorrow, she’d talk to his mother. No matter how hard it was. She’d try to fix things.

Even if it broke her pride a little.

Because loving Alexander meant loving every part of his life. And somehow… she had to find a place in his mother’s world too.