chapter 4

AVA’S POV continued

My Father’s hand struck the table again. The sound echoed through the room.

“You will remember this shame,” he said, his voice cold and final. “From today, you are no longer a daughter in this house. You will live as a servant until you learn your place.”

My lips trembled. “Father—please, I didn’t—”

“Silence!” His voice cut through my words like a whip. “You have no defense.”

I froze where I stood. Across the room, Stepmother watched with her silk robe wrapped around her, eyes wide in practiced sorrow. Beside her, Beatrice stood smiling, the corners of her mouth lifting in quiet triumph.

I bowed my head. There was no use speaking. No one would believe me.

That night, they took my bed away. My clothes, my books, even my small mirror—all gone. I was sent to the storage room at the back of the house, a narrow space with no window. My meals became scraps. My work doubled.

Every morning, I rose before dawn. I scrubbed the floors until my knees burned. I washed clothes until my fingers split. When I slowed, Beatrice whispered to Father, and punishment followed.

The pendant was the only thing I kept. It stayed hidden inside my pocket. At night, when the house was silent, I held it in my palm. The metal was warm against my skin, as if it still carried his life. It reminded me that what I did had meaning, even if the world thought it shameful.

Stepmother’s whispers grew sharper. Beatrice’s laughter followed me through every hallway. Father’s cold eyes hurt more than anything they said.

But I endured.

When shame pressed heavy against my chest, I reminded myself of the man I saved. When despair came, I clutched the pendant and told myself that life would not always stay this way.

No one knew what else I carried.

Inside me, something small and fragile was growing—his child.

I dared not speak of it. To Father, it would be another disgrace. To James, who had once promised to marry me, it would be a chain he would never accept.

So I kept my silence.

Days blurred together. I was no longer the daughter of the house. I became its shadow—moving quietly through rooms that used to be mine, obeying orders, swallowing pain.

But every night, when I lay on the hard floor, I pressed the pendant to my chest and remembered that once, I had been brave. Once, I had saved a man’s life.

And though he might never know my name, I would never forget his.

...

Days blurred into weeks in the basement.

I lost count after the first dozen, though I could measure time by the pattern of Father’s cruelty—a servant sliding in a plate of cold bread and water once a day, never meeting my eyes. Sometimes there was no food at all, as if they had forgotten I existed.

The air was always damp. Mold crept up the corners of the stone walls, and at night, when I lay curled on the thin blanket, I listened to the creaks of the house above me—Beatrice’s light laughter, Stepmother’s sharp voice, Father’s booming tones. Life went on without me, as if I had never been born.

Still, I endured. I learned how to ration crumbs, how to sip water just enough to ease the dryness in my throat. I told myself I wouldn’t break. They had taken my name and dignity, but they couldn’t take the small, stubborn piece of me that refused to yield.

And then the sickness began.

At first, I thought it was hunger—the inevitable toll of starvation. But the queasiness came each dawn, sharp and relentless, my body rejecting even the stale bread I was given. My hands shook as I counted the days backward, dread rising in my chest.

When I pressed my palm against my stomach, the truth hit me.

I was carrying life.

My knees gave way, and I sank to the floor. Silent tears slipped down my cheeks as fear, shame, and disbelief tangled inside me. But beneath all that pain was something fragile, something I didn’t expect—hope.

A child.

My child.

The only piece of love I had left in this world, born from a night I could never speak of.

I whispered into the darkness, my voice trembling. “Little one… I’ll protect you. Even if no one else wants me… I’ll protect you.”

But secrets never stayed hidden in that house.

One afternoon, the basement door creaked open unexpectedly. I blinked against the sudden light and saw Beatrice stepping inside, her heels tapping against the concrete. Her gaze swept over me—my thin frame, my hollow face—before landing on the faint swell beneath my tattered dress.

A cruel smile touched her lips. “So it’s true,” she said, laughing softly. “Our dear Ava is carrying a bastard from a random man.” She tilted her head, mock sweetness in her tone. “Wait until Father hears. He’ll finally rid himself of you for good.”

And she was right.

That evening, Father stormed down into the basement, his fury shaking the walls.

“You dare bring a bastard into this house?” he roared. “You vile girl! You will not disgrace me further.”

“Father, please,” I whispered, instinctively cradling my stomach. My knees hit the cold floor—not in surrender, but to protect the fragile life within me. “It’s my child. Don’t… don’t cast us out.”

But he didn’t see a daughter. He saw only shame.

With a single motion, he ordered two servants to drag me upstairs, through the house that used to be mine—past the chandeliers, the polished floors, the scent of warmth I was no longer allowed to touch.

The front door opened, and the night air hit my skin like knives.

He threw me onto the steps as though I were filth.

“From this moment,” he thundered, his voice echoing down the street, “you are no longer my daughter. Leave—and never return.”

The door slammed behind me.

For a long time, I knelt there in the cold, my arms wrapped around my belly. The mansion glowed warmly above me, but I felt no warmth left in this world.

Slowly, I rose. My lips trembled, but my voice was steady as I spoke to the life within me.

“You’re all I have left,” I whispered. “And I’ll never let you go.”

When my legs could carry me no farther, I realized where they had led me—James’s apartment.

For a fleeting moment, relief washed through me. Surely here, at least, I would not be turned away.

He opened the door, surprise flickering across his face before his eyes dropped to my disheveled state.

James had been my boyfriend for the past three years—twenty-five, handsome, tall, and heir to the Hare Group. He had always been gentle with me, his promises steady and warm. We had dreamed of marrying once he took over his father’s company.

I had believed him.

I had believed us.

“James…” My voice broke as I spoke. “Father has cast me out. I—” I swallowed hard, forcing the words through trembling lips. “I’m with child.”

For a heartbeat, silence filled the space between us. Then James sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, as though my words were a weight pressing down on him.

“Ava, don’t cry,” he said finally, his voice careful, too calm. “This… this isn’t the end. Just go where your father sent you. Endure for now. When he calms down and brings you back, then we’ll marry. I promise.”

I blinked at him, my heart faltering. Go where Father sent me? The basement. The streets. The dark.

Was that what he meant by “endure”?

I searched his face for warmth, for the man I loved, but all I saw was hesitation.

Still, I forced a smile through my tears—because clinging to even a thin thread of hope was better than letting go entirely. “All right,” I whispered. “I’ll wait.”

He didn’t touch me. Didn’t invite me in. He just stood at the threshold, voice soft enough to sound kind but distant enough to hurt.

When the door closed behind me, the sound was final.

It felt like the sealing of my fate.

I stood there for a while, staring at the wooden door as if it might open again. It didn’t.

So I turned and walked into the darkness, clutching my belly with both hands.

I told myself I still had someone waiting for me in the end.

But James’s words hung in the air like smoke—thin, fading the moment I tried to grasp them.

He hadn’t even asked me to stay.

I wanted to ask, Will you not fight for me? Will you not take me in, now that I have nowhere else?

But the words never came.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do.

I nodded, smiled through the ache, and whispered to the life within me. 'we will wait.'