---- Chapter 11 No.11 After leaving the hotel, Ethan started driving back to the mansion but took a detour back to his office. Back in his office, he habitually checked his phone. Over 99 new messages, but none from Ava She's showing some improvement, he thought, a flash of displeasure in his eyes. He put the thought aside and tried to focus. After midnight, he called Chloe. "Did she reply?" The moment Chloe said "No," he hung up. He opened Ava's chat window, typed a message, and then deleted it. It's better this way, he told himself. "Better than her constant pestering." He clicked on her profile picture, only to find a blank feed. Just a single, horizontal line. His hand tightened around his phone, veins popping on his knuckles. He typed, "What happened to your feed?" and then deleted it, letter by letter. It's better if | can't see it, he thought. "She's an adult now, it's ---- none of my business. | don't need to watch over her all the time." He threw his phone aside and went to the break room, returning with a bottle of whiskey. After a few drinks, he picked up his phone and opened a hidden album. He stared blankly at the photos of Ava. I'm your guardian, he mumbled to himself. "| have no right to control you anymore. And | can never love you!" He selected a photo to delete, but then threw the phone aside again. He stumbled to the bed. It was the earliest he had gone to sleep in a long time, but it was also the night he had the most dreams. In his dreams, all the photos came flooding back. The next day, he returned to the mansion. It was cold and empty. He saw the chinchilla night lamp on the living room table, holding down a painting. In the distance, he could make out two figures. He remembered the paintings Ava used to give him every year and rubbed his temples in annoyance. "| told you not to paint these things anymore," he muttered to himself. He looked up at the stairs, thinking that she had probably ---- started school and was in her dorm. He walked closer and saw that the painting was of the first time he had brought Chloe home. In the painting, he was looking at Chloe with deep affection, holding her hand, his eyes full of smiles. He didn't remember the details of that day, but he was certain he had never looked at Chloe with such deep affection. He pushed the night lamp aside and saw the familiar handwriting in the bottom right corner of the painting. Happy Birthday. And goodbye. | wish you a happy life-one that no longer includes me. As he read the words, a sense of panic slowly began to rise within him. He looked at the chinchilla night lamp again, and his pupils contracted violently. The panic turned into an indescribable unease.