Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 10

The glass walls of the apartment gleamed like they had been polished just to remind me of everything I could see but never touch. Beyond them, Los Angeles sparkled with restless lights, cars moving like stars on strips of asphalt, laughing spilling from streets I was no longer allowed to walk on. And here I stood barefoot on marble floors, my silk dress heavy on my shoulders, my heart heavier still. “Why aren’t you smiling, Ava?” His voice slid behind me, smooth and sharp, the way a knife might sound if it could speak. “People are watching.” I turned. Charles Donovan, the man I had once thought would save me, stood in his tailored suit, a glass of bourbon swirling slowly in his hand. His pale eyes didn’t look at me; they pierced me, looking for cracks. “I’m tired,” I whispered, forcing the kind of soft voice he liked. The obedient wife's voice. “It was a long night.” His lips twitched in something between a smile and a warning. “You don’t get to be tired. Tired is for th

The first lie began with a single step.When the mansion doors shut behind me, I felt the night cling to my skin like freedom disguised as danger. My heart pounded so violently I was certain someone would hear it, that the guards stationed near the front gates would turn, that Charles himself would appear in the shadows and drag me back inside.But he didn’t.I kept walking, clutching the borrowed scarf around my hair, heels traded for flats hidden beneath my gown. My breath fogged the cool night air as I whispered to myself, “Keep moving. Don’t stop.”Los Angeles at night was a beast. The streets roared with neon signs, laughter, car horns, and the heavy pulse of bass drifting from clubs. Every sound made me both alive and terrified. I hadn’t been alone like this in years.I passed a row of street performers on Hollywood Boulevard, their painted faces shining under the glow of marquee lights. A guitarist strummed something soulful, and I paused, aching at the memory of who I had been

The night air was heavy with heat, yet my body shivered. “Come with me,” he said, his voice low, bringing a promise I couldn’t name. Every urge screamed to walk away, but my legs failed me. I followed him up a narrow staircase that led to a rooftop pool, hidden above the chaos of the city. The city of Los Angeles stretched before me, glittering, living. It mocked the silence I carried inside. I said in a whisper, "Why here?" He said, "Because freedom tastes different at night." "You look like you haven't had it in years," he said. My throat got tight. I hid my face because I was worried that he would see too much. The rooftop was empty, and the water was shining a soft blue light. He threw his jacket away, rolled up his sleeves, and leaned against the edge as if he owned the place. He joked, "Calm down." "This wasn't meant to drown you," she said. I almost laughed, but the sound stopped in the middle. “That’s not funny.” He studied me, his face softening. “You’re rig

The clink of champagne glasses and the hum of string music filled the air, but all I could hear was the echo of his words from the balcony. “This isn’t over.” Those words haunted me as I moved through the sparkling crowd, Charles’ hand holding mine too tightly, his smile plastered on for the world. I pushed my lips to curve, my laugh to ring out, but inside, my chest was caving in. And then there he was again. Nathaniel. Standing across the room, a storm hiding beneath his polished appearance. His eyes found me instantly, sharp and electric. Charles leaned close, whispered in my ear. “Smile, Ava. Everyone’s watching.” I obeyed, my lips twitching into something fragile. But when Nathaniel stepped forward, joining the group of people around us, the room shrank. “Mr. Donovan,” he greeted smoothly, extending his hand. “Always a pleasure to see you.” Charles smirked. “Cross. I’d say the same, though I’m not fond of men who poach my contracts.” The nearby guys laughed, obl

The message came just before midnight. He knows. Leave town before dawn, or he’ll bury you. No name. No writing. But I knew the style: sharp, eager, with a touch of contempt. Isabella. Charles’s separated sister. The one person who hated him as much as I did, yet never enough to risk her neck. Until now. I stared at the message for a long time, my jaw tightening. If Isabella was reaching out, it meant only one thing Charles had finally drawn blood. He wasn’t just suspicious anymore. He was planning to destroy me. And somehow, Ava was caught in the middle. I called her. Twice. No answer. I sent one message: Meet me. The usual place. Now. Ten minutes later, she replied: You have no right to ask me anything. I clenched my phone, the screen lighting up my face in the dark. I wanted to let her go. I wanted to let all of it burn. But I couldn’t. Not her. Not now. When she stepped out of her car in the parking garage, she looked like she’d been crying. Her eyes