---- Chapter 6 Mark's anger faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. "But ... the house is still your home, Ava. You didn't have to leave." His words rang hollow. Irony. Disbelief. After he'd just threatened to kick her out. Ava sighed, a deep weariness settling in. "Is there something you need, Mark? Leo is tired." She just wanted him to go. She craved peace. Mark ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he used when he was trying to appear reasonable. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened earlier. With the robot. Chloe and Maya are... adjusting." He offered the superficial apology, then immediately followed it with the justification. "But Chloe is under a lot of stress. Her brand, her father's legacy..." Insincerity. Frustration. Ava just looked at him. Why? Why did her family always have to be the collateral damage for his "obligations" to Chloe? The injustice was a constant, dull ache. Mark, misinterpreting her silence, reached into his pocket. "Here." He pulled out a brightly colored, plastic robot toy, still in ---- its packaging. "| bought this for Leo. To replace the other one. See? It even makes sounds." He offered it to Leo, who shrank further behind Ava. Leo whispered, "l don't want it. | want Grandpa's robot." His attachment was to the irreplaceable, not the replaceable. Mark's face tightened with frustration. He didn't understand sentimental value. "What's the difference? A robot is a robot, isn't it?" His insensitivity was astounding. Ava stepped between Mark and Leo. "Mark, you came here to apologize, you said. Was that it?" Her voice was cold, demanding accountability. Mark's patience snapped. "Apologize? | am trying to be reasonable here! But you and Leo are always so over-sensitive! Maya isn't like this. She's adaptable. She understands things." Anger from Mark. Disgust from Ava. The unfavorable comparison, again. Ava had reached her limit. "We're tired, Mark. Leo needs to rest. Please leave." She took Leo's hand and turned towards the elevator, attempting to physically end the interaction. Mark grabbed her arm, stopping her. His eyes had a strange, almost desperate gleam. "Ava, wait. There's something else. Chloe... she wants your ---- catering company to do her brand re-launch party." Ava stared at him, speechless. Shock. Disbelief. Outrage. He physically held the elevator door. "She thinks it would be, you know, a good gesture. Show solidarity. And she's willing to pay your top rates, of course." Her company? The one she built with her own sweat and tears, the one that was her passion before Mark's firm even took off? To cater for *her*? Ava found her voice. "Are you insane, Mark? Absolutely not! That is... that is too much!" Fury. Disgust. The audacity. Mark actually looked surprised by her vehemence. "Don't be like that, Ava. It's a business proposition. She's offering good money. It's good exposure. What's the big deal?" He was trying to bribe her, downplaying the emotional torment of the request. "The big deal, Mark," Ava said, her voice dangerously low, "is that | would rather shut down my entire business than lift a finger to help that woman. Now, let go of my arm." Firm resolve. Finality. She pulled her arm free and pressed the elevator button again. The doors opened. She guided Leo inside. She slammed her hand on the "door close" button. The doors slid shut on Mark's stunned face. As the elevator ascended, Ava could hear Mark banging on the ---- closed doors from the lobby. Persistent. Annoying. Ava leaned against the elevator wall, her legs trembling. He wasn't just thoughtless. He was deliberately cruel. He knew how much her catering business meant to her. He knew the history, the struggle. This wasn't a request; it was a power play, a way to humiliate her, to exploit her past affection, or what he thought was still there. "Bullying," she thought. That's what it was. The next morning, her business partner, Sarah, called. "Ava, what's going on? Mark Thompsons assistant just called. He said Mark is pulling his investment from our new commercial kitchen space if we don't agree to cater Chloe Davis's party... for free." Coercion. Anger. Mark was using financial leverage. That kitchen space was Ava's dream. It was meant to be the heart of her expanding business. She'd poured her savings into it, alongside Mark's investment (which, ironically, had come from profits he'd made partly due to her initial funding of his firm). It was a deeply sentimental project, representing her independence and future. Mark knew this. His cruelty was calculated. Ava tried calling Mark. No answer. ---- She texted him: "Mark, | need to talk to you. Now." His reply came a few minutes later: "Busy with Chloe. Can't talk." Clear prioritization. Frustration. Dismissal. Ava texted again, desperation creeping in: "You're really going to destroy my business over this? Over her party? Are you that far gone?" Her anger was a burning coal in her chest. He called. His voice was cold, businesslike. "It's a professional request, Ava. Chloe wants your company. If you refuse, that's your choice. But choices have consequences. | have an obligation to support Chloe. Her father's memory, you know." Callousness. Self-righteousness. The "debt" again. Then, before Ava could respond, he said, "Gotta go, Chloe needs help with the guest list." She heard Chloe's laughter in the background, a lilting, triumphant sound. He hung up. Dismissal. Humiliation. Ava stared at her phone, a profound, painful realization dawning. He would always find new ways to hurt her. New ways to prioritize Chloe. A numbness spread through her, followed by an even deeper ---- level of hatred than she thought possible. He always finds a way to make her hate him more.