The Confrontation with the Sterling family Officially Begins
"Is it serious? Am I going to have a limp?"
The boy couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen, a high school kid, his young face smudged with dirt. He was a total mess, and his voice was shaky, like he was seconds away from crying as he gave Avery a pleading look.
"Don't worry," Avery said, her voice calm and steady. "You won't have a limp. You'll be in a cast for about ten days, and after that, you should be pretty much healed."
When she'd gently pressed on the sore spots around his ankle, he hadn't shown much pain over the ligaments.
The cry had come when her fingers found the middle of the bone.
That, plus the subtle grinding sensation she'd felt, so different from a normal joint, told her it was probably a hairline fracture, not a full break.
She wasn't an orthopedic surgeon, but she could still make a basic clinical assessment.
Of course, only a CT scan would confirm it for sure.
"Thank you. Are you a doctor?" The kid's panic finally started to fade, soothed by her composure.
Avery offered a small, tired smile. "I used to be."
The short conversation was enough to help Avery's own lingering fear begin to subside, and her thoughts slowly started to clear.
She frowned, carefully replaying the scene in her mind: the van speeding toward the traffic island, the look on the driver's face in that split second.
It had been a green light. The van was driving normally, but just as it neared the intersection, it suddenly, without warning, accelerated and veered straight for the median, right where a crowd of people was waiting for the light to change.
And then there was the driver's expression when he missed her, pure shock.
This was no accident.
Just as the thought solidified in her mind, the traffic police rushed over.
A few good Samaritans had already managed to pull the van driver from the wreckage.
He was just as badly hurt as the bystanders had said.
His face was a mask of blood, and a sharp piece of the dashboard had pierced his thigh, blood gushing from the wound.
He was spitting up bloody foam, his breathing shallow and ragged.
They'd gotten him out of the van, but now no one dared to touch him.
Avery didn't either. In his condition, all they could do was wait for paramedics.
The ambulance arrived quickly, taking the van driver and the boy with the injured foot. One of the paramedics tried to get Avery to come along, too, but she refused. She knew her own body; aside from some scrapes on her elbows and knees, she was fine.
After the police finished investigating the scene and taking statements from witnesses, they started dispersing the crowd, telling everyone to go home and wait for updates. But as people began to walk away, Avery stopped. After a moment's hesitation, she walked straight over to one of the officers.
"Officer," she said, her voice low but firm. "When I dodged that van, I saw the driver's face. I don't think this was an accident."
She had to tell them. She had a gut feeling, and if she was right, this wasn't just a car crash. It was a premeditated murder attempt, a criminal case.
The officer's expression hardened. He stopped what he was doing and turned to face her, his gaze sharp and serious. "Tell me everything."
Avery's brow furrowed. "He did it on purpose," she said, her tone grave. "When he swerved and I jumped out of the way, he looked shocked. Like he couldn't believe I'd managed to move in time. I really hope you'll investigate this as an intentional act."
She didn't have any proof, so she couldn't just come out and accuse someone.
But if the police investigation confirmed it wasn't an accident, she could formally file a complaint and push for a criminal investigation.
Once that happened, the person behind the scenes who wanted her dead would have nowhere to hide.
The officer took her statement very seriously, pulling her aside to ask a few more questions before finally letting her go.
The adrenaline from the crash had worn off, leaving Avery feeling shaken and raw.
The thought of shopping was suddenly absurd.
She hailed a cab and went straight back to her condo at Summit Ridge.
After a quick stop at the pharmacy downstairs for antiseptic wipes and bandages, she went up to her apartment.
She took a quick shower, changed into clean clothes, and sat down to calmly tend to the scrapes on her elbows and knees. They weren't serious, just some broken skin that would heal in a couple of days. After cleaning her wounds, Avery picked up her phone and sent a text.
The first was to Wyatt Riggs, asking when he would arrive in California.
She was almost certain the Sterling family was behind the crash.
The driver's shocked expression was too bizarre; he had clearly been aiming for her, and she couldn't shake the suspicion.
She needed someone to protect her, and fast.
She valued her life and had no intention of dying.
Wyatt replied almost immediately. He was already on the train and would be in California around eight that evening. Avery told him to grab a car straight to Hollywood and sent him the address.
After contacting Wyatt, she didn't hesitate. She dialed Caleb's number.
"Well, look at you, actually calling me first," a teasing voice answered.
Avery's expression was flat. She cut straight to the point. "Where are you? Did you arrange the car accident today?"
Even as she asked, she doubted it. She'd worked with Caleb a few times, and though their interactions were brief, she could tell how ambitious he was. He wouldn't make a move on her until Bryce was sentenced and Warren's side of the family was completely crippled. The risk was too high.
"What car accident?" Caleb's voice sharpened, all traces of humor gone.
"I was in one today," Avery said, her voice cold and empty. "And it was aimed at me."
She didn't need to spell it out. On the other end of the line, Caleb seemed to understand immediately.
"Hang on," he said, his tone urgent. "I'll check."
The line went dead. Avery lowered her phone, letting out a slow breath as she sank into the sofa.
She tilted her head back, her amber eyes unfocused as she stared at the ceiling.
The image of the van hurtling toward her flashed in her mind, alternating with the sinister look in Warren's eyes from the other day.
Finally, she came to a cold, hard conclusion. The fight with the Sterling family had officially begun. Before, they had tried everything from threats to bribes, but they'd never made a direct move on her.
Now, things had changed.
Avery knew it was only a matter of time.
She hadn't provided the letter of forgiveness, and she'd made an enemy of Warren.
It was inevitable that he would come after her.
She just hadn't expected him to be so bold as to order someone to run her down in the street.
She'd started to prepare, but time was too tight.
The bodyguard she'd hired wasn't even here yet.
Thinking it through, it wasn't hard to guess why Warren had moved so quickly.
Bryce's court date was less than a week away.
If she got scared and agreed to write the letter, Bryce would walk free.
If she held firm, then killing or crippling her would be a way for Warren to vent his rage before his son went to jail. Either way, Warren won.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, but her anger brought a chilling clarity. She quickly took stock of her resources. She was going to make Warren Sterling pay.
Just then, her phone rang. It was Caleb.
"I found it," he said, his voice grim. "I told you, once your location was exposed, my uncle would find you. And sure enough, he had Ronan Bowen make a move."
Caleb's tone was laced with a personal venom, especially when he said the name. It was clear he had his own grudge against the man. Avery had no interest in their family drama. The name was all that mattered.
Her eyes turned to ice. "Who is Ronan Bowen?"