Chapter 231

Ava’s POV

I flung open the door, hoping the few seconds between Isabella's statement and my reaching for the handle had allowed me to regain my composure. But the sight of her face instantly revealed my failure. Her gaze flicked past me, landing on Grayson, who remained motionless. A knowing smirk played on her lips, but I cut her off before she could speak.

"Don't."

Without waiting for a response, I stepped out, slamming the door shut before grabbing her arm and pulling her away. Isabella, predictably, lost no time in voicing her amusement. She whisper-yelled, her voice dripping with it.

"Ava Lilian Pierce, I leave you alone for five minutes, and you're already… what happened to your whole speech about keeping your distance? And what about everything he did?"

"I know, I know," I snapped, rubbing my temple, fighting the overwhelming chaos in my head. "I don't know what happened. Please, just drop it."

She didn't. Her eyes fell to my stomach. "You're probably carrying twins now. He just added another baby to it."

"Will you quit it? We didn't have sex!" I hissed. "And stop saying things about pregnancy! You're the reason I'm pregnant in the first place—because you said it! And I swear, if I am carrying twins, I will throttle you."

Her grin widened, unfazed by my glare. But as I opened my mouth to rebuke her again, I remembered her earlier words. Urgency surged back into my chest.

"What did my mother say? What's the bad news?"

The teasing vanished from Isabella's face, replaced by a grim expression.

"She did go after Damien alone—"

Before she could finish, footsteps sounded. My breath hitched as Grayson emerged, his presence an unwelcome distraction. I grabbed Isabella's wrist, my pulse racing.

"Where is she? I'll ask her myself."

Without waiting for an answer, I marched down the hall, pulling Isabella along. Upon entering the sitting area, my eyes locked onto my mother. She sat on the couch, speaking to Ricardo in hushed tones, her expression strained. Across the room, Elaine sat engrossed in her phone, oblivious to the tension.

Her head snapped up, her eyes shifting from Ricardo to me. Before I could speak, she narrowed her eyes and scolded, "What were you thinking, going to meet with Damien on your own?"

"Don't scold me," I snapped. "You're the one who brought us here, and while you were off doing whatever, I discovered that the sister you never mentioned is Crystal. Freaking Crystal."

The color drained from my mother's face. Her lips parted slightly, her expression flickering between shock and something unreadable.

Ricardo's signature smile widened, as if enjoying the impending explosion. He exchanged a glance with Elaine, who had stopped scrolling. Isabella crossed her arms beside me, her gaze flitting between us, clearly entertained despite the tension.

My mother swallowed hard, but quickly recovered, straightening her back. "Who told you that?"

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "That's what you care about?"

"What I care about," she snapped, her voice sharp, "is that you don't understand how significant you are to him. The essence you carry could tip the scales, and you refuse to think rationally. Instead, you charge into danger alone. With a child."

"Well, I wasn't alone. I was with Grayson." I didn't know why I said it, but the moment the words left my mouth, my mother's attention shifted to him.

Her eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with venom. "You know, you and that bloodline are the start of my problems."

Grayson tensed behind me, his irritation palpable. "Watch it."

"No—"

"Oh, please, will everyone just shut up! Shut up, please!"

Elaine's sudden outburst silenced the room. She stepped forward, her face contorted with fury. "Isn't it exhausting? I'm all for being a first-class bitch, but even I'm tired of the drama! So will you just stop it?" Her glare swept across us. "Everyone here has a common enemy who's already caused so much damage, and we all have a target on our backs from a psychotic maniac with a twenty-five-year vendetta.

"Grayson didn't ask for a curse. Ava didn't ask to be part of some freakish prophecy. And yet, here we are, fighting each other instead of dealing with the fact that Damien is planning something huge, and we still don't know what it is. So can everyone just calm the hell down?"

The ensuing silence was absolute, suffocating. My mother and I continued to glare at each other, neither yielding. But I was the first to look away.

Elaine, still fuming, pointed at Isabella. "Go mind-link Rickon. Find out what's happening with him, Ava's father, and that witch whose name I can't even remember."

Then she turned to my mother, her eyes sharp. "You want to act like you have it all together, but everyone saw the shock on your face. So why don't you take a damn minute and process the fact that you just found out who your other daughter is?"

She didn't wait for a response before turning to Ricardo. Her lip curled. "And you—stop smiling. There's nothing funny about this. Go pet your tiger or something. I don't care."

Ricardo blinked, but the amused glint in his eyes didn't fully disappear.

Elaine wasn't finished. She spun on me and Grayson, and the weight of her frustration crashed over us. "And you two—I haven't approved of this, and I still don't know if I approve now, but for the love of the goddess, even fate itself has been shoving you together! So neither of you is leaving this room until you fix it."

She exhaled sharply, her voice deadly calm. "Because I need someone to pay for what was done to me, and that can't happen if we keep tearing each other apart. So everyone else—out."

No one argued. Against all odds, Elaine had commanded the room.

My mother didn't lose her composure, but she left. Ricardo didn't stop smirking, but for the first time, he looked at Elaine with genuine attention. Isabella, already halfway to the door, stared at Elaine as if seeing her anew.

And then—just like that—they were gone.

Elaine grabbed the door, glancing back one last time. "Fix it. And when you're done, go to a hospital and get that child checked out."

Then she slammed the door shut. The lock clicked.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

I stared at the door, still processing everything. Then, finally, I spoke. My voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was undeniable.

"Why couldn't you just believe me? Not trust me—believe me?"

I turned slowly, my eyes meeting his. "And Damien—even though we didn't know it was him at the time—had made it known that I was his target. You didn't care that something could happen to me. You told me to get out of your life and you didn't care, didn't listen, didn't trust me. What could you even say to make any of that okay?"

I didn't give him a chance to respond. My voice gained strength. "I mean, you didn't even stop to really think about those messages. Am I so jobless that I would wrap my entire life around some scheme to… bring you down? And working with Dylan?" I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "The same Dylan I was desperate to get away from when we first met? Do you not know me at all?"

"I screwed up."

"No." My voice cracked, but I forced myself to continue. "You keep screwing up, Grayson. Again and again. And you keep putting me in a position where I have to take more hurt than I deserve. If you were a character in a book, wouldn't you be tired of this? Wouldn't you have just given up on us?"

I sucked in a shaky breath. "Because things are good one minute. Then they go horribly. Then you do something, and I forgive you. And things are good again until they aren't. And we say we won't fight anymore, but then what happens?"

I shook my head, my vision blurring with tears. "You told me you loved me… and then you told me to get out of your life. What? Why do you keep doing this?"

I didn't realize I was crying until he moved—closing the distance, pulling me into his arms, enveloping me.

And for a moment—I let him.

Then, just as suddenly, I shoved his hands away. "Don't touch me. I'm so mad at you."

But even as I said it, I crashed back into his embrace, gripping his shirt. "I don't know how to forgive you this time," I whispered. "I just don't."

He let out a slow, heavy sigh and tightened his arms around me. "Then don't."

I pulled back, confused. "What do you mean don't?"

He exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping before lifting back to mine. There was something different in his expression—something final.

"Maybe it's time for it to end," he said quietly. "For us to end, and this time, there will be no coming back from it."