جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 80

Three days after the shooting, I was officially everyone’s favorite headline.I hated every second of it.The media called it an attack on a prominent businessman.The financial blogs called it a corporate retaliation scandal.Social media had somehow turned it into a conspiracy involving competitors, political figures, and at least three theories so ridiculous they almost deserved admiration.The truth was far less entertaining.Marcus Vale had lost control.Then he made the mistake of trying to take it back.And now he was sitting in a cell awaiting formal charges.The end.Or at least it should have been.I stood in my office overlooking the city, one hand resting against the glass while the other adjusted the edge of the bandage hidden beneath my shirt.The wound still hurt.Not enough to slow me down.Enough to irritate me.“You should still be home.”Adrian’s voice broke the silence.I didn’t turn around.“You sound like Ava.”“I’ll take that as a compliment.”“It wasn’t.”He la

The message arrived at 8:17 a.m.I almost ignored it.In fact, I probably would have if it had come from an unknown number.But it didn’t.The sender’s name appeared on my screen so suddenly that my entire body went still.For a second, I thought I was imagining it.Then I blinked.The name remained.Rachel Morgan.My older sister.The woman I hadn’t spoken to in nearly four years.My stomach dropped.“What is it?”Ethan’s voice came from across the kitchen.I looked up too quickly.His expression immediately sharpened.Because apparently I had become incapable of hiding anything from him.“Nothing.”His eyebrow rose.I sighed.“That was unconvincing, wasn’t it?”“Extremely.”I stared at the screen again.The message itself was short.Painfully short.Can we talk?That was it.No explanation.No apology.No reason.Just four words.Four words that somehow carried four years of unresolved anger behind them.“Ava.”I looked back at Ethan.He had abandoned his coffee entirely now.Focuse

I knew something was wrong the moment Ethan called.Not because of what he said.Because of what he didn’t.“Can I see you?”Four words.Simple.Calm.Controlled.But after everything we’d been through, I knew the difference between Ethan being composed and Ethan holding himself together by force.This was the second one.“Where are you?”A pause.Long enough to confirm my suspicion.“My office.”My stomach tightened.“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”He didn’t argue.Didn’t tell me to take my time.Didn’t insist he was fine.The line simply disconnected.And somehow that worried me more.When I arrived at Blackwood Enterprises, the atmosphere felt different.Not dramatic.Subtle.The kind of shift only noticeable if you spent enough time somewhere.People spoke quieter.Assistants moved carefully.Doors closed softly.Like everyone sensed something important was happening without understanding what.The receptionist greeted me immediately.“Mr. Blackwood is expecting you.”Of course

I didn’t sleep. Not really. Most of the night was spent staring at my ceiling and replaying Rachel’s voice over and over again. There’s something Mom wanted you to know. Simple words. Yet somehow they felt heavier than anything I’d heard in years. Every possible explanation ran through my mind. Maybe she’d found old photographs. Maybe there were letters. Maybe there was something about Mom’s illness I never knew. None of the possibilities felt right. By morning, I was exhausted and no closer to an answer. Ethan noticed immediately. “You didn’t sleep.” I glanced up from my coffee. “Are you ever wrong?” “No.” The answer came so quickly I almost laughed. Almost. His expression softened. “You want me to come with you?” The offer settled warmly somewhere inside my chest. Six months ago Ethan Blackwood would have insisted. He would have solved the problem for me. Now he simply offered support. The difference mattered. “I think this is something I need to do myself.

I don’t remember leaving the café. I remember Rachel calling after me. I remember her asking if I was okay. I remember promising I’d call later. But everything after that felt distant. Muted. Like the world had been wrapped in glass. One thought repeated itself over and over during the drive. He knew. My father had known my entire life. Every birthday. Every school recital. Every scraped knee. Every report card. Every celebration. Every disappointment. He had known. And he stayed. The realization hurt in ways I couldn’t explain. Not because of what he’d done. Because of what he’d sacrificed. By the time I pulled into his driveway, tears had already returned. The small house looked exactly the same. The same flower beds. The same front porch. The same wind chime Mom had hung years ago. Nothing had changed. Yet somehow everything had. I sat in the car for almost five minutes. Trying to gather myself. Trying and failing. Eventually I forced myself out. Wal