CHAPTER NINE

# The Return

Ava heard Ethan call out her name, but she didn't look back. Her heart clenched in pain as she walked toward the main gates, struggling to hold back tears.

'I must not cry! They are not worth it!' she thought to herself as she marched on.

Ethan had sounded so distraught that she almost ran back into his arms, but she had had enough. She wasn't going back, not this time. Five years of broken promises and quiet disappointments had finally crystallized into resolve.

She reached into her purse and took out her cell phone to hail a taxi. When it arrived, she boarded and took one last look at the place she had called home for five years, letting out a long sigh.

The colonial-style house with its perfect lawn and manicured hedges had once represented everything she thought she wanted: stability, security, belonging. Now it felt like a beautiful prison she was finally escaping.

"Take me to Oakwood Cemetery, please," she told the driver, her voice steadier than she expected.

The driver nodded, pulling away from the curb.

***

Oakwood Cemetery was just as Ava remembered it from three years ago: high wrought iron gates framing rows of headstones, some weathered by time, others gleaming with newly inlaid marble. The wide expanse was dotted with towering oak trees that cast long shadows across the quiet grounds. A gentle spring breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and distant wildflowers.

The taxi drove along a winding path, following Ava's quiet directions until they reached a modest corner of the cemetery. After paying the driver, she made her way through ankle-high grass, the path to her mother's grave overgrown from neglect.

'I really am a bad daughter', Ava sighed, slowly making her way despite the discomfort, her designer flats quickly dampening with dew.

The polished granite headstone that came into view read "Sarah Grace Reynolds, Beloved mother, 1965-2018." Ava knelt on the soft earth, not caring about the grass staining her clothes.

"Hi, Mom..." she whispered, tracing the headstone with her fingertips. "I know it's been a while. How have you been?" The familiar ritual of speaking to her mother settled her racing heart. "Things have been...complicated."

"Ethan and I are getting a divorce." The words hung in the air, making them real in a way they hadn't been before. "I know how you felt about him. You always knew he wasn't right for me, you always knew he wasn't right for me." She paused, wiping away tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. "I guess I was too afraid of what would come with you not by my side anymore."

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves overhead. Ava closed her eyes, imagining for a moment that it was her mother's gentle touch.

"I thought all I needed was somewhere I could feel wanted. I was afraid of being alone." Her voice strengthened. "But no matter how afraid I am now, I no longer want to escape. I'm ready to face the truth."

Ava's gaze drifted to the inscription on the headstone.

Sarah Grace Reynolds.

Reynolds.

A name she had borne most of her life.

A name her mother claimed belonged to her dead father. But Ava had never quite believed her.

There were no pictures of this father of hers, and though they had been happy without him, Ava could sense that her mother was hiding something.

It seems she had finally discovered what that was—or rather, it had found her.

Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a manila envelope, Inside was a photograph: her mother as a teenager, young and radiant, standing beside a man. The younger version of that person was unmistakable—the same piercing eyes, the same proud stance. The man whose blood ran in her veins.

"From now on, I will make things right, for both of us, no matter what it takes," she promised the silent stone.

Replacing the envelope in her bag, she stood slowly, brushing grass from her knees. Her legs felt stronger now, as if her decision had physically fortified her.

"You don't have to worry about me anymore," she said to the headstone. "I'll find my own way now, our way." Pressing her fingers to her lips and then to the top of the headstone, she whispered, "I love you, Mom. Always."

With a quiet nod, she turned to leave, finding the grass somehow easier to walk through now. The weight of indecision had lifted from her shoulders.

A few steps from the gravestone, she fished out a black embossed business card and, after hesitating briefly, punched the numbers etched in gold into her phone. After several rings, Ava heard the voice that confirmed she had not been dreaming.

Tears streamed down her face, not of sorrow now, but of relief and perhaps a hint of hope. She realized she had been trembling, the phone shaking in her hand.

"Hello, Ava? Is it really you, Ava?" The baritone voice on the other end asked, shaking slightly with emotion.

"Yes, Chairman..." she began, then corrected herself. "No... Grandfather. Please come take me home."

A sleek black car appeared at the cemetery gates within twenty minutes. And as it approached, Ava squared her shoulders, ready to meet her past and her future in one moment.

***

*Two weeks ago after the accident.

"Someone is here to see you" The nurse had said nervously gripping her notepad.

"The police?" Andrew asked and flinched when Ava looked at him sharply.

"No." The nurse shifted uncomfortably. "A man. Says he's your grandfather."

Ava's brow furrowed in confusion "That's not right, I don't have a grandfather. Both died before I was born."

"He's been here since yesterday. Wouldn't leave." The nurse continued hesitantly. "He's not just anyone, Mrs McQueen ,It's David Cardwell."

The billionaire whose face graced business magazines. The man whose conglomerate controlled everything from tech to global shipping.

"That's impossible," Ava whispered.

"He has documentation. Photos. Showed them to administration, Do you want me to tell him to leave?"

Ava's mother had never spoken of her family. After her death five years ago, Ava found nothing, no photographs, letters, or clues to a past apparently including one of the wealthiest men in the country.

"No, I'd meet him" she said,turning to Andrew before walking back to her hospital room "Get a taxi here before I'm done"

David Cardwell wasn't as tall as in photographs. His silver hair was combed back, and his tailored suit couldn't hide his slight stoop. His presence filled the small hospital room.

He froze at the threshold, his eyes—the exact shade of green as Ava's—widening. The briefcase in his hand slipped to the floor.

"Eleanor" he whispered.

"My name is Ava," she corrected.

Cardwell blinked rapidly. "Of course. Forgive me. You look so much like her—my daughter. Your mother."

"Mr. Cardwell, I believe there's been a mistake."

"No mistake." He sat, opening his briefcase. He extracted a photograph and passed it to her.

A young woman in graduation robes, laughing. Her eyes—Ava's eyes—crinkled at the corners. Her hair fell in the same waves Ava fought with a straightener.

"My Eleanor," Cardwell said. "This was taken when she graduated from Highschool. Three months before she disappeared."

"My mother's name was Sarah," Ava said uncertainly.

"She changed it. Along with everything else." He showed another photograph of a sprawling coastal estate. "This was her home. Should have been yours."

The landscape from the painting...

Ava smoothed her hand over the picture 'So it was real'

"Eleanor vanished one August night," Cardwell continued. "No note. No warning. She was nineteen." His voice cracked. "The police found her car at the bottom of the Chad overhead bridge, but she was not in it. We feared the worst."

"If this is true, why didn't she tell me about you?"

"I've asked myself that every day for twenty six years."

"I never stopped looking. Five years ago, an investigator found her obituary as Sarah Reynolds. By then, it was too late."

The truth crashed over Ava. Her mother's insistence on moving frequently. The cash-only policy. No family photographs. Tensing whenever Ava asked about relatives.

"She was running from something," Ava whispered.

"Or someone," Cardwell agreed. "I've spent years trying to understand what drove her away."

"How did you find me?"

"Through your employment records.That painting of your mother's...When I heard about your accident on the police scanner, I couldn't lose you too."

Ava closed her eyes. Why had her mother fled? What secrets had she carried to her grave?

"This is overwhelming," she said finally.

"I understand. You need time."

He left a black embossed business card with just a name and number. "When you're ready...if you're ever ready...call me. Day or night. The house on the Cape is still there. Your mother's room is exactly as she left it."

He moved toward the door, then paused. "I hope you'll come home, Ava. When you're well enough."

Ava had watched him go, his confident stride somehow diminished in the hospital corridor, her mind reeling from the revelation.

As the car hummed quietly bringing her closer and closer to the uncertain path she was about to take, she reached for the business card, running her thumb over the embossed letters. David Cardwell.

Outside the tinted car window, rain streaked the glass, distorting the world beyond. Ava clutched the photograph of her mother, of Eleanor, and wondered which version of reality was the true one.