Chapter 13 – Ava’s POV

"Mistake." That was the first and only word he'd spoken since I entered the study, and it carried so much weight, so much force, that common sense compelled me to take a step back. I swallowed hard, trying to summon the courage I'd thought I possessed when I'd walked in.

"What part is a mistake, Ava?"

The way he said my name—low, dangerous—made my pulse quicken. It wasn't a question; it was a warning, a threat veiled in those simple words. All the explanations I'd rehearsed vanished like smoke. Why did I think this was a good idea? In less than twenty-four hours since meeting him, he'd had to walk into a burning building to save me, and a war was already brewing between him and my father. And I knew my father. He usually kept to himself, but the moment he was crossed, all hell would break loose.

"I think I've had enough of Pierce's nonsense today to last me a lifetime. Leave."

I should have listened. I should have turned around, walked out, and accepted that this was it. There were no take-backs when it came to him, but something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the way he spoke to me like I was nothing, or maybe I was just tired of being afraid. I took a step forward, deeper into his space, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Can I please sit?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, though I tried to sound stronger than I felt.

"No."

The answer came swift and cold. I sat down anyway, defying him, and I heard a low growl rumble in his chest. I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself.

"You're stronger than this, Lilian. Don't let anyone push you around." Isabella's voice echoed in my mind.

When I opened my eyes again, his expression had shifted, though it was no less menacing. He was watching me closely, his eyes dark and unreadable, as if he were trying to peer into my soul. It made my skin tingle, but I had to keep going.

"My father," I started, swallowing the lump in my throat, "he will make good on his threat, and I think unnecessary bloodshed can be avoided. You said so yourself; you're not one for that…"

He leaned back, one eyebrow arching, the smallest hint of amusement dancing in his cold gaze. "So, you want me to tear up the contract because Daddy doesn't approve!" His tone dripped with mockery, the condescension making my blood boil.

"Stop talking to me like I'm an idiot," I snapped before I could stop myself.

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, I don't think you're an idiot, Ava. Quite the opposite. You're smart, maybe too smart. But all that cleverness disappears when your father's involved, doesn't it?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off, his voice sharp as a blade. "When I'm speaking, I don't like to be interrupted. Understand?"

I clenched my fists in my lap, nodding, biting back the retort burning on my tongue.

"If I agree to this annulment," he said, his voice now cold and calculating, "what happens next? You will do as your father wishes and return to Dylan?"

"Of course not!" The words came out louder than I intended, desperate. "I'd never go back to him. I'd stay with Bels, find a job—hell, I'm good at what I do. I'd be fine. And I could still help you, professionally, with the…"

The words trailed off. I don't know what it was about him that made me so uncomfortable mentioning it.

For a long moment, he didn't speak. He just stared at me, his lip curving into a smile—a smile that made my stomach twist in knots. "You've thought this through, haven't you?"

I didn't answer. There was no point. He didn't want one.

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, studying me as if I were a puzzle he was slowly piecing together. "Your eyes are fascinating. Have you ever figured out why they change color?"

The question caught me off guard. It was the last thing I expected him to say. "No… I mean, they've always been like that. I don't know why." My voice was shaky, and I hated that.

"Well, it's a mystery I suppose we'll solve eventually." His tone shifted, darker, colder. "But there's something about you, Ava, that's not a mystery."

The way he said my name again—it felt different. Like he owned it, like I was just another thing for him to control. I hated that feeling.

"Considering the fact that I think people are beneath me, I find an ounce of pleasure watching them and understanding the story behind their eyes. Shall I tell you yours?"

I frowned, not liking the direction this was going. "No."

He smiled again, ignoring me. "You've spent your whole life trying to be perfect, haven't you?" he said, his voice soft but cutting. "Molded by your father, your mother, into this little sculpture. You hide every crack, every flaw, because you're terrified of what they'll think if they see who you really are."

The three words, "Concealers, Scarfs, and Smiles," echoed in my head, and I forced them down. I clenched my jaw, fighting the rising tide of emotion. He didn't know me. He had no idea what I'd been through.

"You would have stayed in that marriage, let him destroy you, all because you didn't want to disappoint them. You would have let it kill you, just so they could keep their perfect image." His voice was cold, detached, like he was simply stating a fact. "The cheating was just the dealbreaker, wasn't it?"

My breath caught, and I felt the tears sting the back of my eyes. He was right. Every word of it was true, and it hurt more than I could ever admit.

"Am I wrong?"

The first tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away quickly, refusing to let him see me break.

"You need to understand something, Ava," he said, leaning forward again, his gaze locking onto mine. "I don't care about your father. I don't care about his threats, his power. The moment you signed that contract, you became mine. Your life, your choices—they're tied to me now."

His words sent a chill down my spine, and for the first time, I realized just how trapped I was.

"So, here's what you're going to do," he said, his voice low and commanding. "You're going to stop letting your father control you. You're going to stop being his puppet."

I blinked, unsure of what to say, but my head nodded of its own accord. "Yes."

"If you want to stop the war, then act like you are a twenty-four-year-old woman who is in control of her life and go tell your father he doesn't own you."

The truth of his words cut deep. He was right. I'd spent my whole life being what others wanted me to be. Perfect. Flawless. But it wasn't me. It had never been me.

The weight of it all came crashing down, and I felt my chest tighten. The truth hurt more than anything he could have ever said, because it wasn't just his words—it was my life.

I stared at him, unblinking, as the weight of his words settled between us. Neither of us moved, and the silence in the room grew heavier, stretching on until it felt like time itself had frozen. His eyes, cold and sharp just moments before, softened slightly, but it wasn't enough to make me relax.

"I have no intention of hurting you, Ava," he finally spoke. "And I won't spend the next year trying to control you. You want to work, go ahead. All I want you to understand is that the contract is sealed. There is no going back."

"There is no going back." The words reverberated in my head, over and over, like my reality was just settling in. No going back. I was bound to him now. For a year. One whole year.

I felt the weight of it all—this strange new life, the contract, the power he had over me—press down on my shoulders. Nodding slowly, I forced myself to stand, legs feeling weak beneath me. There was nothing left to say. I wiped at the tears threatening to spill, my throat tightening as I fought the urge to break down.

Turning away, I made my way toward the door, each step feeling like I was dragging myself out of quicksand. His eyes were on me; I could feel it. The way his presence seemed to fill the room was suffocating. I needed to get out. I needed air, something to clear the overwhelming feeling of being trapped.

"Ava…"

I stopped. His voice, saying my name—it did something to me. It was like each time he spoke it, it carried a different meaning, a deeper weight. It pulled me in, like a string I couldn't cut.

I turned back slowly, unsure of what I was expecting to see. He was staring at me, hard and unyielding. Gone was the momentary softness, replaced by the cold, intimidating man I had first met.

"I suggest you talk to your father soon," he said, his words chilling in their calmness. "Because if he follows through with his threat… I won't care that his blood runs through your veins. I will kill him."