---- Chapter 5 Ava POV: | must have passed out. | wake up in a different ambulance, the world a nauseating blur of motion and pain. When | finally come to, I'm in a hospital room. My arm is in a cast, my head throbbing with a concussion-level ache. I'm alone. A nurse comes in, her expression sympathetic. "You're at City General," she says. "Mr. Reed and the other young woman were taken to a private hospital. His choice." Of course. The family's preferred facility, where questions aren't asked and payments are discreet. Where they can control the narrative. Maya arrives an hour later, her face a storm cloud. "Chloe has a fractured leg. Ethan is playing the hero, telling everyone his 'amnesia' is worse from the crash. He's milking it for all it's worth to maintain his image." As if on cue, | hear their voices outside my door. Ethan, loud enough for me to hear, telling a nurse how worried he is about me. Chloe, her voice a sickly sweet whine, telling him he shouldn't upset me by coming in. "She's strong, Ethan," | hear her say. "Seeing you might just make it harder on her." She's isolating me, cementing her ---- place by his side. Later, the nurse returns, her face apologetic. "There's an issue with your insurance," she says. "Mr. Reed was listed as the policyholder, but he's refusing to authorize payment. He said he wasn't sure of your coverage details." He's trying to cut me off. To leave me stranded, buried in medical debt. A final, cruel act of control over his property. In his world, women were assets, and he was liquidating me. Maya explodes. "That son of a bitch." She spends the next hour on the phone, her voice like steel, cutting through the red tape and confirming my own insurance is more than adequate His pathetic attempt to control me fails. My phone buzzes. A new number. A new picture from Chloe. It's a photo of Ethan asleep in a chair by her hospital bed, his hand holding hers. The conquering Associate. | block the number without a second thought. When I'm finally discharged, | go back to the empty penthouse. The next day, Ethan shows up. He's holding a bouquet of cheap carnations from the hospital gift shop. "Ava," he says, his face a mask of sorrow. "I'm so sorry. | don't know what happened. My head... it's all so confusing." He's trying to reel me back in, to secure my loyalty before the wedding. | look at the wilting flowers, then at his face. My voice is devoid of all emotion. ---- "You made your choice at the crash site, Ethan," | say, stepping back and closing the door in his face. The click of the lock is the loudest sound I've ever heard. "We're done." | need money, and | need it fast. My escape plan requires a substantial cushion. Maya finds me a job-a high-paying, short-term contract to design the promotional materials for a major charity gala. "The client is demanding," she warns. "But the pay is good." | don't care who it is. | just need the cash. | walk into the first meeting and my blood runs cold. A large banner on the wall reads: "The Vance Family Foundation." Chloe's family. And sitting at the head of the conference table, acting as the foundation's project liaison, is Ethan. This isn't a coincidence. This is a trap. A power play designed to humiliate me further. Chloe sits beside him, a smug smile playing on her lips. They are a united front, openly disrespecting every rule of family honor. The meeting is a nightmare. Ethan dissects my initial designs with surgical cruelty. Chloe chimes in with idiotic suggestions, each one designed to undermine my professionalism. They're trying to break me in a corporate setting, to prove I'm nothing without his family's name. At one point, as I'm presenting a color palette, he pulls Chloe ---- onto his lap and kisses her, long and deep, right there in front of the entire committee. A grotesque display of ownership. | grit my teeth and continue my presentation as if nothing is happening. My voice doesn't waver. | will not give them the satisfaction of seeing me crack. | just need the money. After the meeting, Ethan corners me. "There's a pre-gala cocktail party tomorrow night," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to be there. To, you know, get a feel for the atmosphere." It's another command. Another way to torture me. The next night, | go. | try to blend into the background, observing, taking notes. But as | walk down a hallway toward the restroom, | hear them. Moans and grunts coming from an unlocked service closet. It's Ethan and Chloe. Again. | lean against the opposite wall, a wave of nausea washing over me. It's not heartbreak. It's not jealousy. It's a profound, soul-deep disgust. The man | was supposed to marry, the heir to a powerful dynasty, is nothing more than an animal rutting in a closet. The betrayal of our family bond is complete. Portland isn't just an option anymore. It's a necessity.