CHAPTER SIX

{Adrian’s POV}

Why did she agree so easily?

The question gnawed at me as I walked away from the library, my footsteps echoing through the empty hallway. I’d expected resistance. Arguments. Tears and pleading. That’s what manipulative women did, wasn’t it? They clung to whatever power they had, used every tool at their disposal to maintain their position.

But Ava had just… agreed.

No fight. No negotiation. Just those simple hand movements: I agree to the divorce.

It didn’t make sense.

I loosened my tie, trying to shake off the unsettled feeling in my chest. This was what I wanted. What I’d been working toward for months. The divorce papers had been ready for weeks, just waiting for the right moment. And now that she’d agreed, I should feel relieved. Victorious, even.

So why did I feel like something was wrong?

The image of her in that library kept replaying in my mind. The way her hands had moved so frantically, so desperately, as she tried to convince me she could support Nova on her own. The trembling in her fingers. The tears streaming down her face.

I can get a job. I’ll work hard. I’ll give her everything she needs.

What a joke.

What job could she possibly get? She couldn’t speak. She had no degree, no work experience, no marketable skills whatsoever. She’d been dependent on me—on her family—her entire life. And now she thought she could just walk out into the world and provide for a child?

She was delusional. Selfish. She wanted to use Nova as leverage, to keep some hold over me even after the divorce. That had to be it. This was just another manipulation, another scheme cooked up by her and that bastard brother of hers.

I can’t even give her a voice.

I pushed the memory of my own words away. They’d been harsh, yes, but they were true. Nova deserved better than a mother who couldn’t provide for her. Better than a mother who’d drugged and trapped her father into a loveless marriage.

I made my way back to the main parlor where the party was still in full swing. Eleanor had outdone herself, as always—crystal champagne flutes, elaborate flower arrangements, a string quartet playing softly in the corner. All to celebrate a granddaughter she clearly saw as second-best to the grandson she’d wanted.

Vivian spotted me immediately and glided over, her smile warm and welcoming. Everything about her was perfect—the way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she fit seamlessly into this world of old money and older expectations.

“There you are,” she said, linking her arm through mine. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost. Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” I said automatically. “Just… handling some business with Ava.”

Vivian’s expression didn’t change, but I felt her grip on my arm tighten slightly. “The divorce?”

“She agreed to it.”

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” Vivian’s voice was carefully neutral, but I could hear the pleasure underneath. “One step closer to putting this whole mess behind you.”

I nodded, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Vivian was right. This was good news. This was what I wanted.

Vivian leaned in closer, her perfume—expensive and subtle—washing over me. “You know, Adrian, once this is all finalized, we can finally stop hiding. Finally be together the way we should have been from the start.”

She was beautiful. Sophisticated. Everything Ava wasn’t.

“Your mother was just telling me about the charity gala next month,” Vivian continued, her voice bright. “She thinks it would be the perfect opportunity to make our relationship public. Show everyone that you’ve moved on from… well, from the mistake.”

The mistake. That’s what everyone called my marriage to Ava. A mistake. An unfortunate detour from the life I was supposed to have.

And they were right, weren’t they?

I looked across the room at Eleanor, who was holding Nova with surprising gentleness despite her earlier comments. My daughter. The one good thing to come from this disaster of a marriage.

“Adrian?” Vivian’s voice pulled me back. “You seem distracted.”

“Sorry, I—”

A commotion near the entrance cut me off. Raised voices. The sound of something—or someone—being shoved.

I turned to see Daniel storming through the parlor, his face flushed with rage. He grabbed Ava by the arm—she’d been standing quietly near the window, trying to stay invisible—and yanked her toward the hallway.

Ava stumbled, nearly falling. Her hand flew out to catch herself against the wall.

She’d just given birth three days ago. She was still weak, still recovering from nearly bleeding to death.

And her brother was dragging her around like she was nothing.

“Excuse me,” I said to Vivian, setting down my champagne glass.

“Adrian, wait—”

But I was already moving, following them down the hallway. I told myself it was just curiosity. That I wanted to make sure Daniel wasn’t causing a scene at my mother’s party.

It had nothing to do with the way Ava had looked when she stumbled. Nothing to do with the flash of pain I’d seen cross her face.

I caught up to them just outside the library—the same room I’d left Ava in not twenty minutes ago. Daniel had her backed against the wall, his voice a vicious snarl.

“What the fuck did you do?”

I stayed in the shadows of the doorway, watching.

“Adrian just pulled his investment. Every single dollar. Carter Group is going under, Ava. We’re going to lose everything. Father’s company, our family’s reputation, all of it—gone. Because of you.”

Ava’s hands moved frantically. I didn’t understand all of it, but I caught enough: I didn’t mean… had no choice… going to divorce me anyway…

“You selfish bitch.”

The slap echoed like a gunshot.

I saw Ava’s head snap to the side, saw her stumble backward, her hand flying to her cheek. She looked so small in that moment. So fragile.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Daniel advanced on her, and I saw his hand rising again. “Father’s company employed over two hundred people. Two hundred families who are going to lose their livelihoods because you couldn’t keep your husband happy for one goddamn year.”

Ava was signing something, backing away, but Daniel wasn’t paying attention.

“Shut up with your fucking hands! I’m so sick of watching you wave them around like that’s going to fix anything. You can’t talk. You can’t keep a husband. You can’t do anything useful. You’re completely worthless.”

Worthless.

The word hit me like a physical blow. I’d called her selfish. Delusional. Manipulative. But worthless?

Is this how her own family treated her?

I watched Daniel raise his hand again, watched Ava flinch and throw her arms up to protect her face, and something in me snapped.

My body moved before my mind caught up. I crossed the distance in three strides and caught Daniel’s wrist mid-swing, my grip iron-tight.

“Touch her again,” I said, my voice deadly quiet, “and I’ll break every bone in your hand.”