**Chapter 8** **Rowan** I watched it happen in real-time. The light in her eyes didn’t just dim; it vanished. One second, there was a lingering warmth, a ghost of the woman I used to know. The next, a shutter slammed down, leaving her expression as cold and impenetrable as a sheet of ice. That coldness seeped into my own bones. "What are you doing here?" Ava asked. Her voice was flat, a monotone drone that treated my presence as an inconvenience rather than an intrusion. I didn’t answer immediately. I just stood there, pushing my way past the threshold of her new life. For nearly a decade, I had shared a bed, a home, and a child with this woman, yet looking at her now, the words died in my throat. She looked at me not with anger, but with the utter indifference one might show a speck of dust on a sleeve. My eyes drifted to her arm, still bound in a medical sling. I had come to check on her—at least, that was the excuse I gave myself. It was also my weekend with Noah. But the image of the man I’d just seen leaving her house was burned into my retinas, fueling a fire in my chest I didn't want to acknowledge. He was the reason for that smile I’d caught a glimpse of. The realization made my jaw ache from clenching. "What was *he* doing here?" I demanded, the growl in my voice betraying the jealousy I had no right to feel. I knew the guy was a cop. I knew he’d saved her life. But he was crossing lines, and I hated the way his presence felt like a thumb in my eye. "That," Ava retorted, her eyes flashing, "is absolutely none of your business." "It becomes my business when you’re entertaining men at dawn with my son in the house," I snapped, the bitterness rising like bile. "Did he sleep over? Is that why he’s slinking out now?" The thought of it turned my stomach. We had been separated for mere months, and already she was exposing Noah to strangers? It spoke volumes about the kind of woman she was turning out to be. Ava let out a short, jagged laugh—a sound devoid of any real humor. "You have got to be kidding me. You’re standing there, judging *me*? While you’ve spent years publicly parading Emma around? The hypocrisy is staggering, Rowan." "Emma is different," I hissed. "Oh, right. How could I forget?" She feigned a look of sudden realization, her face twisting into a mask of mockery. "She’s the *love of your life*. The one who actually matters." I ground my teeth together so hard I thought they might shatter. She was pushing me, poking at the bruises of our failed marriage with a sharp stick. "I would never do anything to hurt Noah," she continued, her voice gaining a dangerous edge. "But I am a single woman. I will see whoever I want, whenever I want. I don’t plan on spending the rest of my life mourning a man who never wanted me anyway." My hands curled into fists. A strange, hot rage vibrated in my core, an animalistic urge to strike out at something. She didn't wait for a rebuttal; she simply turned her back on me and walked away. I stood in the hallway for a moment, forcing air into my lungs. As I followed the sound of clattering pans into the kitchen, I took a look around. I had never been here before. This house was nothing like the one we had shared. It was brighter, simpler, and completely devoid of my influence. It felt like a physical manifestation of her independence, and it bothered me more than I cared to admit. I found her at the counter, aggressively wiping down a surface that was already clean. She didn't look up. "I’d hoped you’d have the grace to leave," she said. "In case I haven't been clear enough: you aren't welcome here." "It's the weekend, Ava. I’m here for Noah," I growled, my patience thinning. "He’s asleep. And you could have stayed in your car and honked like you usually do. You didn't need to come inside." I pulled out a barstool and sat down, my presence a deliberate weight in her space. She glared at me, her mouth opening to deliver another verbal blow, but I cut her off. "I’ll wait for him. We need to talk anyway." She gripped the dish towel until her knuckles turned white. "There is nothing left to say, Rowan. We have a custody agreement. Follow it, and we can go back to pretending the other doesn't exist." I sighed, rubbing my temples. Why was she being so difficult? This wasn't the submissive, quiet woman I had been married to for nine years. That woman had been easy to ignore. This version of Ava was a live wire, sparking and dangerous. "Isn't this what you wanted?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper that cut deeper than a shout. "For me to finally be out of your way?" "I’m not the one who filed for divorce," I reminded her, the frustration boiling over. I didn't want a fight. Not today. I had a meeting with Kanta later, and my head was already spinning with the threats against my business. "True," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But don't act like it wasn't the best gift you ever received. Emma comes back to town, and suddenly you’re free to be with her. It’s perfect timing, isn't it?" I didn't lie to her. I never had. "What do you want from me, Ava? You knew the truth from the start. You knew I loved her. If it wasn't for that mistake nine years ago, she would have been my wife. I never led you on." She threw the towel onto the counter, her eyes blazing with a sudden, raw hatred. "And yet, that didn't stop you from using my body for a decade, did it? To scratch an itch because the woman you actually wanted wasn't available? God, I hate you. I look at you and I wonder what I ever saw in you. I loathe every second I wasted trying to make you love me." The words hit me like a physical blow. "I’m not here to talk about the past," I said, my voice tight. "I’m here about Noah." She went still at the mention of our son. The fire died down, replaced by a weary exhaustion. She reached into a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of painkillers, and popped two into her mouth, swallowing them dry. "How’s the arm?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. "Don't," she snapped. "We both know you don't care. Skip the fake concern and say what you came to say. Or leave, and I’ll text you when Noah wakes up." She moved to walk past me, but I reached out, my fingers closing around her uninjured wrist. She flinched as if I’d branded her with a hot iron, wrenching her arm away with a snarl. "Don't touch me!" "Dammit, Ava! Are we really going to do this forever? Snarling at each other every time we’re in the same room?" "Maybe if you stayed out of my house, we wouldn't have to." My temper finally snapped. "This childishness... this is exactly why I always preferred Emma! This is why I fell in love with her and not you!" The silence that followed was deafening. Ava’s face didn't crumble. It hardened into a mask of pure, crystalline spite. "Say what you have to say and get out," she said, her voice ice-cold. "I won't have you insulting me in my own home. My behavior is no longer your concern. Go give your lectures to the love of your life. I'm sure she’s perfect." I felt a pang of regret. I shouldn't have said it. I shouldn't have compared them. Not when things were this volatile. "Look... I’m sorry. That was out of line." "Take your apology and shove it," she countered. "Ava..." "Fine!" she shouted. "Hurry up. I have things to do. Men to entertain, remember?" I groaned, forcing myself to focus on the mission. "Your mother and my parents are going into witness protection. It’s because of the case against the gang. I want Noah to go with them." Her entire demeanor shifted. The spite vanished, replaced by a mother’s instinctual fear. "Why? What happened?" "I was the one who turned over the evidence that sank their operation. They’ve sent threats. They know Noah is my greatest weakness." "And Emma," she added, her voice heavy with a sarcasm that didn't quite hide her worry. I ignored the jab. "Your father is already dead because of these people, Ava. I am not losing my son. I can't risk it." She looked away, her chest heaving as she processed the danger. "Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?" "You walked out before we could finish the briefing." "How long?" she asked. "Until the threat is neutralized and the rest of them are behind bars." She nodded slowly. Despite our war, we were united in one thing: Noah was everything. "Fine. I’ll pack his things. You take him today, I’ll spend tomorrow with him. Then he goes." "Agreed," I said. She turned and headed toward the stairs to wake him. As I watched her go, a chilling realization settled in my chest. For years, I had grown used to the way Ava looked at me—with a desperate, longing hope that I would finally see her. But that look was gone. There was no love left in her eyes. Not even a spark. Now, she looked at me with the same cold resentment I had spent ten years showing her. And for some reason, that realization felt like a sentence I wasn't prepared to serve.