CHAPTER EIGHT

Victoria's nails dug crescents into her palm as Ethan's taillights winked out of sight. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth -she'd been biting the inside of her cheek without realizing.

She forced her facial muscles into what she hoped resembled a smile as Phoebe held the car door open for her.

The leather seat squeaked beneath her trembling body. Her gaze fixed on the spot where Ethan's car had disappeared, following Ava of all people.

The same Ava she had claimed had tried to have her kidnapped. The same Ava who should be beneath contempt in his eyes.

Three years ago flashed before her eyes. The fake rope burns on her wrists. The blindfold. Ethan bursting through the door, his face contorted with fury. Yet even then, even after hearing that Ava had orchestrated, he'd hesitated. "Grandfather wouldn't allow it," he'd said, when she'd suggested divorce.

But Grandfather was cold in the ground now. What was Ethan's excuse?

Ice crystallized in her veins. An image surfaced: Ethan's fingers lingering on Ava's arm. The softness in his eyes when he thought no one was watching.

Victoria's knuckles whitened against the black upholstery. Sweat trickled down her spine despite the frigid blast of air conditioning.

"No, that's impossible," she whispered, her voice a rasp against the car's quiet hum.

"What's that?" Phoebe's head swiveled, her perfectly penciled eyebrows drawing together.

"Nothing." Victoria gave a light laugh that sounded hollow even to her own ears. "Just thinking out loud."

Her gaze drifted to the window, while her mind calculated. Ava with her chin tilted upward, demanding a divorce—as if she were the wronged party. Perfect. Let Ava play the villain. Meanwhile, Victoria would continue her performance: the fragile victim, still haunted by nightmares of her captivity. She would make Ethan feel responsible. Make him vow to protect her.

This divorce would happen. And Ava would vanish from their lives forever.

***

Gravel crunched beneath the car tires as they pulled into the circular driveway.

Victoria's heels clicked a staccato rhythm beside Phoebe's as they approached the mansion's imposing structure.

Inside, Ava perched on the edge of the sofa like a queen on her throne, spine ramrod straight, one leg crossed elegantly over the other.

Her red-lacquered fingernails tapped against her knee as she watched Ethan scrutinize the papers, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Beside Ava sat a woman with steel-rimmed glasses and an equally steely expression.

She didn't acknowledge Victoria and Phoebe's entrance, her attention fixed on Ethan's silent assessment of the documents.

"Mr. McQueen," the woman finally broke the silence, "if you've finished examining the papers and have objections, please state them."

Her tone carried the faintest edge of impatience. "You're welcome to request legal representation if anything requires clarification."

"He doesn't need one, Claire." Ava's voice cut through the room like a blade. "You drafted an impeccable agreement."

Her eyes locked with Ethan's. "Sign the papers, Ethan. I have better places to be."

"Better places?" Phoebe's laugh was jagged glass. She lunged forward, snatching the papers from Ethan's grasp. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

Spittle flew from her lips as she waved the documents inches from Ava's face. "You have nothing. No money, no connections. You should be on your knees thanking us for not throwing you into the gutter where you belong."

"Mom, enough." Ethan wrestled the papers from her grip, his gaze flicking between the legal document and Ava's face.

The arctic chill in Ava's eyes sent a tremor through his chest. Something essential was slipping through his fingers-he could feel it. His lungs constricted as he struggled to draw a full breath.

"What's your angle, Ava?" His voice dropped to a near-whisper. "I know you. You're planning something. So name your price." He leaned forward. "Ten million? Fifty? Company shares?"

A bark of laughter escaped Ava's throat. "Company shares? After I've sacrificed my career, my reputation, my very identity for your precious company? After years without recognition or compensation?" Her eyes blazed, the only crack in her composed expression

"How very generous of you, Ethan."

"You can always decline if it's not enough for your greedy appetite," Phoebe hissed, her neck mottling red. "Working for the company was your obligation as a McQueen! You've lived in luxury, spending my son's money, basking in our family's reputation, and now you have the audacity to complain?"

"Mother, for God's sake, STOP!" Ethan roared, surging to his feet.

Phoebe recoiled momentarily before her face twisted with renewed venom. "This is why she's become so insufferable! You've allowed her to trample all over you, and now look at what we're dealing with!"

A slow, deliberate clap cut through their shouting. Ava rose to her feet, arms crossing over her chest, lips curving into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Since I'm apparently so unbearable, it's in everyone's best interest that I leave with nothing from your 'precious family.'" The smile evaporated like morning dew. "Sign the damn papers, Ethan."

"You're certain about this?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "You agree to walk away with nothing?"

"Oh, come on, Ava." Victoria inserted herself into the conversation, her voice dripping with saccharine concern. "Just take the money. Drop this righteous act."

Ava's gaze never wavered from Ethan's face. "Sign. Now."

"Fine." Fury erupted through him as he snatched the pen, scrawling his signature with such force the paper nearly tore. He shoved the document back toward her.

The transformation in her expression stopped his breath. Her features softened, shoulders dropping millimeters from their rigid position. Relief. Unmistakable relief flooded her face.

Relief? The incongruity struck him like a physical blow. She should be furious at leaving empty-handed. She should be bitter, vindictive. Not... liberated.

Was this another of her mind games? Another manipulation?

With methodical precision, she added her signature beside his and handed the papers to her lawyer. The woman tucked them into her briefcase without comment and strode from the room.

"Well, that's it." Ava's voice was winter frost. "Have a nice life. I hope we never cross paths again."

"Same to you!" Phoebe called after her retreating form. "Don't come crawling back when reality hits!"

"Congratulations, Ethan." Victoria slid onto the couch beside him, her hand resting on his arm. "Thank you." She leaned in, intending to rest her head on his shoulder, but found herself pitching forward as he abruptly stood.

He strode to the doorway, watching Ava's figure grow smaller as she walked toward the gates, carrying nothing but her phone and a small handbag.

"Ava!" His voice echoed across the manicured grounds. She didn't break stride. "Damn it!"

His foot connected with a decorative vase. It exploded against the marble floor, shards scattering across the room like the fragments of something irreplaceable that had just slipped through his fingers.