All Chapters of Married to my Arrogant Sponsor : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Ava didn’t sleep.The burner phone sat on the windowsill like a ticking bomb, dimly lit by the soft lavender hue of dawn. She had stared at the photo until her eyes ached Marcus, caught mid-step in what looked like a hotel lobby. Not suspicious. Not dramatic. Just… placed. Like a chess piece nudged into position by invisible fingers.The note scribbled on the back haunted her more than the image itself.“He’s not who you think.”She flipped it over again. Again. Again. Every time hoping the words would blur into meaninglessness. But they didn’t.By 5 a.m., she’d saved Marcus’ contact under “Don’t Call” and then, twenty minutes later, restored it like a guilty confession. She hated what she was becoming: paranoid, obsessive, uncertain. Or maybe she hated realizing she was exactly what Grayson had wanted all along.A woman uncertain of her reality.A puppet deciding whether she still had strings.The phone buzzed at 6:02 a.m. sharp.Marcus Hale.She let it ring three times before answer

The lake house was quiet too quiet for Ava’s thoughts.She stood by the window, watching the mist roll over the water like secrets refusing to settle. A steaming mug of tea sat untouched in her hands. Grayson had left early for a business call, trusting her with the peace she’d said she needed.But Ava wasn’t here for peace.She was here to disappear.She grabbed her tote bag already packed and left the tea to cool on the windowsill.Twelve hours earlier…She’d waited until Grayson was asleep, breath slow and even beside her. She had memorized the hallway cameras’ blind spots days ago, unsure why she needed them until now.Marcus had texted a single word:“Found her.”Attached was a hotel address in the city. No room number. No other instructions.Ava barely slept.And now, in the early hush of the lake morning, she slid into the driver’s seat of Grayson’s second car. Not the sleek black one with GPS tracking. The older one. The one no one used anymore.Just a few hours. She’d be bac

The mansion was too quiet.Ava had tried to sleep, tossing from one side of the bed to the other until the silk sheets felt suffocating. The silence pressed down on her chest like the weight of memory memories she couldn’t fully reach, like words on the tip of her tongue that slipped away when she got too close.She padded barefoot down the hallway, her fingers trailing along the wall for balance. The house had become familiar, but not quite home. Not yet.The guest room was cold, barely used. But it was where they had stored most of her things when she first moved in. She opened the closet door and stared at the stack of boxes she’d been avoiding for weeks.Ava pulled one out. Dust danced in the dim light as she cracked it open.Photos. Old notebooks. A sweater that still smelled like a different time.And then she saw it.A faded envelope, its corners bent, the handwriting almost foreign now. Inside, a letter in another language her native tongue. Not the one she used here. Not the

The envelope sat on her nightstand, untouched for hours but never out of reach.Ava stared at it from the bed, as if it might open on its own and spill secrets across the sheets. She hadn’t told Grayson about Elena. Not because she didn’t want to… but because she wasn’t ready to hear the version of him that might exist in someone else’s truth.The moonlight stretched long across the floor. This house his house was quiet. Always quiet. But tonight, it felt too quiet. Like it was listening.She stood, pulled on one of Grayson’s button down shirts, and walked barefoot to the balcony. The air bit at her legs, but she welcomed it. Cold meant she could still feel.A rustle behind her.She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.“You always find me,” she whispered.Grayson leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely. “You’re not hiding.”“No,” she admitted. “Not anymore.”He stepped out beside her. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence stretched, soft but loaded.“Y

The car ride home was quiet. Ava stared out the window, fingers pressed to her lips, trying to forget the way Vivian had said her name like it was borrowed. Like she wasn’t supposed to wear it at all. The city blurred into glass and color, but her mind refused to settle. She had walked through Wolfe International today not just as a visitor, but as someone Grayson Wolfe brought. That meant something. It had to. But she didn’t know what. And that was the problem. Back at the mansion, she wandered through the halls like she was searching for a version of herself she’d accidentally left behind. She ended up in the library. Tall shelves. Dusty warmth. Books stacked in cozy disobedience. She didn’t know what she was looking for until she saw the old mirror hanging crooked in the corner. She stood in front of it. Same face. Same eyes. But today, s