Chapter 3

“Make it clear, Aveline.”

Cillian’s grip on my wrist was tight.

His hot breath was on my ear. An invasion.

That dangerous closeness used to make my heart race.

Now, it just made me sick.

I laughed. A bitter sound.

“Make what clear?” I looked at him. “What, you want me to clarify the part about Jenna being pregnant?”

Cillian went rigid.

His grip on my wrist vanished.

I didn’t look at his stunned face. I rubbed the red marks he’d left and walked downstairs.

In the main hall, movers were clumsily pushing an antique Steinway piano.

It was the last thing my mother left me before she fell from that cliff.

“Careful! Don’t scratch the floor,” Jenna ordered from the sofa. “Hurry up and move it to the basement. This area needs to be padded. For a children’s play area.”

I stopped on the stairs, my eyes cold.

Jenna met my gaze. No shame. She just lifted her chin. “What are you looking at? Cillian approved it. The baby will need space to play.”

I scanned the room. This house I didn't even recognize. I heard heavy footsteps behind me.

Cillian was coming down the stairs.

I stood my ground. I turned my head and looked at the man on his throne.

“Tell your men to be careful, Cillian,” I said, a smile pulling at my lips. “After all, this is the first of your children in the Donovan family that might actually make it to birth.”

The air behind me went dead silent.

I didn’t turn around. But I could feel his eyes on me. Burning. Complicated. A gaze full of a pain he was trying to choke down. It was nailed to my back.

I walked out the door without a backward glance and got in the car.

The window rolled up, shutting out the madness in that house.

I leaned back, exhausted. My left hand went to my flat stomach.

The first year of our marriage, I was pregnant.

It happened one night when Cillian was drunk.

I was naive. I thought a baby would melt the ice around his heart.

I was crying with joy, holding the test. He walked in.

He looked at the plastic stick. Then at my tears.

He sneered.

“Having my baby makes you cry? Get rid of it, Aveline. The thought of it disgusts me, too.”

I froze.

All my happiness turned to ash.

“You don’t want him?”

He turned his back, answering a call from some model. “I’m on my way.”

He walked out. Didn’t even look at me.

I ran after him like a madwoman. I slipped and fell hard on the icy front steps.

Blood stained the snow. The child who never got to see the world became a pool of blood.

Chicago was colder that day than the day my father died.

And my husband never even came back to check on me.

I took a deep breath, pushing the burn from my eyes.

The car stopped at the Chicago Symphony Center.

My final solo concert before Vienna.

Every piece was for my mother. To finish what she started before she died.

For five years, it was the only thing that kept me sane.

I opened the car door and looked up.

My breath caught.

The giant digital billboard outside—the one that was supposed to have my name on it—was lit up with Jenna’s perfectly made-up face.

【A DONOVAN CHARITY GALA — HOSTED BY JENNA】

My head exploded.

I ran into the lobby, shaking. The symphony setup was gone. Replaced by tacky champagne towers and banquet tables.

“What’s going on…”

I grabbed the manager, my voice trembling. “My concert… who gave you permission to cancel my concert for a party?”

Everyone turned to look.

The manager looked torn.

“I’m sorry, Miss Aveline. Mr. Donovan booked the entire venue for tonight. He changed the event last minute. We were just following orders.”

“This is theft!” I was shaking with rage. My voice was shrill.

“It’s not theft. It’s power.”

A low, cold voice cut through my anger.

Cillian walked out of the VIP entrance, holding Jenna’s hand.

“I cancelled it,” he said, his tone casual. “Jenna needs a formal introduction to Chicago society. Your little concert that no one cares about was a waste of time. Better to use the space for something valuable.”

“A waste of time?” My eyes were bloodshot. I stared at him. “Cillian, you know what this concert meant to me! It was for my mother!”

Cillian let go of Jenna. He strode toward me until he was right in my face.

“Don’t use your dead mother as a shield, Aveline,” he hissed, his voice low and full of payback. “You’re not angry about the concert. You’re angry because Finn loved to hear you play.”

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up. “You planned all this for him, didn’t you? To play for the coward who left you at the altar.”

I couldn’t listen anymore.

Smack.

My palm cracked against his jaw. The sound echoed through the hall.

He turned his head to the side. A flash of shock in his eyes. Then, a storm of pure rage.

Jenna shoved me. “Are you crazy? How could you hit him!”

I stood my ground.

I gave him one last, long look. Then I turned and walked away.