AVA DAYS LATER The sun hung low in the sky as I made my way to Uncle John Tyson's study, my steps slow and measured. I had received a summons from him earlier in the day, and although I tried to remain composed, my heart was beating faster than usual. Uncle Tyson rarely called for me unless there was something serious to discuss. I knocked lightly on the door, and his gruff voice called me in. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside, my eyes meeting Uncle Tyson's cold, calculating gaze. He sat behind his large oak desk, his fingers steepled together, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "You wanted to see me, Uncle John?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "Yes, Ava. Sit down," he replied, gesturing to the chair opposite him. I sat down, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. I waited for him to speak, the silence in the room thick and oppressive. "Liam's aunt Margaret is arriving this evening," Uncle Tyson said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "It's important that he
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