### Chapter 29 Ava The world around me felt like a muted blur, a canvas splattered with shadows of despair. I was still stitching together the remnants of my spirit after the brutal attack. Mentally and physically, I was exhausted, wearing the scars of survival like invisible armor. Three times now, someone had tried to snuff out my life. Three times, I clung to existence by the thinnest of threads, but I could not shake the creeping dread that my luck would eventually wane. Whoever was determined to end my days seemed fixated on ensuring that I would never see Noah again. A chill swept over me at the memory of how close I had come to my own demise. He had invaded my sanctuary, plotted to violate my very being before extinguishing my life. The weight of those thoughts bore down on me, and I fought back tears that threatened to spill. I had wept enough in the past few days, and I was weary of it all. But the questions tormented me relentlessly—why did they want me dead? Had I truly wronged anyone? Aside from Emma, who, in irony, was now with Rowan—surely that absolved me of my past sins? I did not deserve this torment. What frightened me most was the idea that, should they succeed, I would miss witnessing my son grow up. I envisioned the cherished milestones that would forever elude me, and each thought shattered my heart further. “Are you okay, miss?” a gentle voice pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. I raised my gaze to find an elderly woman peering at me, her face etched with concern. Her kind, assessing eyes scanned my bruised features; the swelling had gone down, but I still bore the marks of my ordeal—a healing lip, a black eye, and an angry purple cheek. “I’m okay, thank you,” I managed a weak smile, but it felt like a false promise. Ever since that fateful night, I had been trapped in a haze of numbness, moving through life like a ghost. Nothing seemed tangible; everything felt like the aftermath of a nightmare I could not wake from. Deep inside, I acknowledged the reality, yet awhat if I simply pretended long enough for it all to fade away? “You don’t look okay… Do you want me to call someone for you?” she pressed, her sincerity touching me. If only everyone held her kindness; perhaps the world would feel less bleak. A stranger, yet so attuned to my struggle, she approached me in the middle of an aisle in that store, seeing through the façade I wore. “There’s no need. I’m just a bit overwhelmed,” I assured her quickly. Her eyes narrowed slightly, doubtful of my words. I forced another smile, grateful for her concern but desperate for solitude. She stepped closer and squeezed my hand softly. “Things will get better. Always have faith.” With that, she offered a final look of reassurance before walking away. Exhaling deeply, I turned back to the rows of soup containers, seeking refuge in the mundane. “Wow, you look like hell.” The scornful remark sliced through my moment of calm, and I turned sharply, irritation coursing through me at the sound of her voice. Damn it, I had no patience for her today. I tried to ignore Christine, Rowan’s ever-noxious secretary, but she persisted like a wasp refusing to be swatted away. “Did someone finally put you in your place when you tried stealing her man too?” she sneered, her eyes gleaming with malice. My fists clenched at my sides, aware she was baiting me. News of my recent trauma had spread like wildfire; the media spun wild tales, and the city buzzed with whispers. Rowan was investigating the leak, determined to uncover who had betrayed my story to the public. Christine reveled in my torment, seizing any opportunity to undermine me. Every inch of her dripped with disapproval, and Rowan had never taken my side against her; he always believed I provoked her. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to achieve, considering you’re well aware of what I’ve been through,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “I’m merely stating facts. Much like I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a woman’s wrath on your hands, given your track record of stealing men,” she retorted, venom lacing her words. I rolled my eyes, assessing her immaculate attire while I felt like a battered prizefighter. “After all these years, you’re still recycling the same tired insults. Don’t you ever get bored hearing yourself drone on?” I shot back, surprise fueling my own boldness. Her expression shifted from shock to indignation, perhaps stunned I had finally found my voice. I had always shied away from confrontation, afraid of Rowans' disapproval. But today, I felt as if I had nothing left to lose. She quickly regained composure, an evil smile curling on her lips. “How does it feel to lose Rowan? Does it hurt knowing he’s with your sister right now?” Even though it stung—and how could it not?—I was coming to terms with my feelings, piecing together an understanding that I was slowly letting him go. Ethan, with his unwavering support, provided a distraction from those heart-wrenching thoughts. “Christine, you schemed and plotted to replace me, hoping Rowan would notice you. Even in our marriage, your incessant attempts to seduce him went unanswered. He might not have loved me, but I was his wife, while you’ve always been just a secretary. So, let me flip that question: how does it feel to know he will never see you as more? Knowing he would choose to be with me, despite our issues, rather than take you as a mistress? And now, with Emma back in the picture, how does it feel to know you stand no chance?” I smirked, the words flowing fiercely through me. “You ugly bitch!” she hissed, spitting venom as she lunged forward. Instinct kicked in, and I sidestepped her advance just in time. In her frenzy, she stumbled, her extravagant heels teetering on the brink of disaster. Frustration consumed her as she regained her footing, charging at me once more. Without thinking, I seized a carton of milk from my cart and hurled it in her direction. White liquid sprayed across her designer dress as we both froze—shock ricocheted between us. With a primal scream, she charged at me like a banshee, fury etched into every line of her face. I reached for anything within arm's length, launching whatever I could find at her. A small crowd gathered, some pulling out their phones to capture the chaos unfolding before them. Just as Christine raised her hand to strike me, two figures intervened. One man gripped her waist, while another secured my arm, pulling me away. “Let me go!” I screamed, desperation flooding my voice. They held firm, dragging me outside before I could fight back. The manager stormed out behind them, anger flaring in his eyes. “You two are banned from this store. If I see either of you near here again, I’ll call the cops,” he warned, his tone leaving no room for argument before retreating back inside. “This is all your damn fault!” Christine spat, ire radiating from her every word. “My fault? I didn’t attack anyone first! I was merely defending myself from a raving lunatic!” I shot back, fury boiling inside me. “I swear you’ll pay for this, Ava. Mark my words,” she seethed before turning away, storming off like a tempest. With a heavy sigh, I headed toward my beaten-down car, my emotions a tumultuous mix of satisfaction at standing up for myself and frustration that I had let her taunts get under my skin. It wasn't a secret that Christine had always wanted Rowan. In a twisted sense of reality, she had projected her rejection onto me. I forced those thoughts away as I focused on the road ahead. Pulling into my driveway, an unexpected warmth washed over me as I spotted Ethan sitting on the steps of my house. I parked and emerged from the car. “Where were you?” he asked as he stood up, concern etched on his features. “I was worried when I called and you didn’t answer.” “Sorry! I left my phone at home while I went to the store for groceries,” I explained, ushering him inside. “So, where are the groceries?” he inquired, his brows knitting together. I felt a flush of embarrassment wash over me. “I, um, got into a fight and was kicked out of the store. They’ve banned me for good.” “What?!” he exclaimed. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but Christine has tormented me for as long as I can remember. I was just so tired of it,” I confessed, my voice soft. I braced myself for his reprimand—after all, I had come to expect such responses from Rowan. He always insisted I act my age, telling me to refrain from childish antics like brawling with his secretary. Yet, astonishingly, Ethan reacted differently. He enveloped me in his arms, a reassuring warmth enveloping me as his hand settled possessively on my hip. Lifting my chin, he held my gaze with those entrancing blue eyes. “I’m just glad you’re okay—that she didn’t hurt you,” he murmured. “You should never feel guilty about standing up for yourself, Ava. Whether it’s emotionally or physically. I’m proud of you; proud that you finally gave her what she deserved.” His words wove a spell around me, captivating my senses. Those mesmerizing eyes, the strong contours of his jaw, and the warmth of his lips—everything about him seemed to hold me in a trance. As if summoned by an invisible force, I found myself leaning into him, my heart racing wildly as his lips descended upon mine. They met in a tantalizing connection, tongues entwining, sealing our fate together.