Chapter One
Ava
Sweat beads on the back of my neck as I pace the length of my living room. I run my fingers over the top of the sofa, my fingertips sinking into the soft, supple leather. I grit my teeth, remembering the day we bought it.
Motherfucker.
I bring a hand to the back of my neck and swipe the perspiration away.
One phone call is all it would take to cancel this whole fucking thing.
I suck in a breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
It’s not too late to change my mind and forget any of this was supposed to happen.
My eyes drop to the Cartier watch on my wrist, the soft overhead light making the diamond-encrusted bezel glitter. Anger bubbles in my chest. High heels click on the polished marble tiles beneath my feet as I storm around the perimeter of the massive space. The sound of my shoes clicking and clacking echoes, reverberating between the walls and bouncing into the high cathedral ceiling.
I did what I was supposed to do. Got suckered into this whole fucking ruse because it was expected of me and I’m a laughing stock. A hot flush floods my cheeks and I ball my fingers into tight fists.
Nobody knows that I know, especially not him.
I could have done so many things…painful things. Deadly things.
But I didn’t. I decided there was a better, more gratifying way to get my revenge.
Except it’s totally unlike anything I’d ever do…or have ever done before.
I squeeze my eyes shut, letting out a shaky breath.
Oh my God, what the hell was I thinking?
I can’t do this !
My knees wobble as I catch a glimpse of myself in a decorative mirror. I run a hand through my hair, the huge diamond solitaire on my ring finger catching the light. It sparkles so brightly, so blindingly, like it could completely mesmerize and deter me from what I’m about to do.
And it pisses me the fuck off, like that bright and shiny friend who is always wearing a facade, smiling and insisting her life is magic when behind closed doors it’s actually tragic .
It’s an antagonizing reminder of what deep down I knew I could never have but hoped for regardless.
All in the name of fucking family.
I pull off the ring and hold it up to my face, glaring at it with all of the hatred I can muster. All it does is smirk at me.
The biggest bullshit facade of all.
With a garbled scream, I hurl it at the mirror. It hits against the side of the glass, tiny cracks spreading into the polished surface.
Basically what happened to me a week ago.
I look at the cracked mirror and a sharp laugh pierces the still air. I never liked the damn thing, anyway. It was a wedding gift…the something old from his grandmother who’s probably seen more sham marriages in her lifetime that she can count, all in the name of power and empire building.
I walk to the mirror and run my fingers over the shattered glass, tracing each of the indentations.
Empowerment. That’s what this is all about. Nothing else.
I’m taking back what that bastard stripped me of.
The doorbell rings and I choke on a gasp.
Holy shit.
This is really happening.
I walk on unsteady legs to the front door, slowly and cautiously as if I’m headed down a one-way rabbit hole of complete and total uncertainty .
Which I kind of am.
White noise fills my ears, muffling the music floating from the speakers around the house. As if it could actually soothe me.
I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my black dress.
It falls a bit above my knee, the neckline just deep enough to tempt and tease.
The effect was supposed to be classy and respectable but let’s face it. Once that door opens, all shreds of my self-respect will be swept away like last night’s dinner crumbs.
This isn’t me. I have to stop this now.
I clutch the brass door handle.
No, no, no! Screw that. I’m not some pathetic damsel.
I’m the one running the show now. The one who will not be humiliated. The one who will reclaim her power and strength, things I should never have let go of for a second, for anyone!
Before my mind can scream out another syllable, I pull open the door and tilt my head upward as my jaw threatens to drop.
Oh.My.God.
I can’t do this…