**Chapter 54** Avery wrinkled her nose at the strong odor of alcohol mixed with a hint of tobacco that clung to Elliot. It was a scent that spoke volumes about the night he had endured. Confusion twisted in her stomach as she noticed Ben’s entourage, a group of men lurking in the shadows, their phones raised and focused on her, eager to capture the moment. They were complicit in his plan, no doubt. With a surge of frustration, Avery shoved Elliot, but her instinct kicked in, and she quickly reached out to steady him, her fingers curling around his arm. Before she could fully react, the driver rushed over, his face lined with concern, and together they carefully helped Elliot into the backseat of the car. Once he was settled, Avery hastily fastened the seatbelt around him, her heart racing. The driver handed her a bottle of water. “This was meant for Mr. Foster, Madam,” he informed her, a note of caution in his demeanor. Avery felt the heat flood her cheeks, embarrassed by the assumption. She quickly held the bottle next to Elliot’s arm, her voice soft yet hopeful. “Do you want some water?” His eyes remained closed, brows knitted tightly together as if trapped in a world of torment. No response came from him, and an unsettling doubt gnawed at her—did he not hear her or was he simply refusing to answer? “Perhaps you could feed it to him, Madam,” suggested the driver gently, trying to help in a situation laden with tension. Every muscle in Avery's body tightened as she considered the suggestion, frustration bubbling up inside her. With a deep breath, she placed her hand at the back of Elliot’s neck, hoping to coax him into a semblance of awareness. But the moment her palm made contact with his skin, his eyes snapped open, fierce and alert. Startled, she quickly withdrew her hand, throwing her head back in surprise. In a bid to regain her composure, she gulped down a mouthful of water, feeling the cool liquid soothe her dry throat. As the car glided smoothly through the night, the atmosphere thickened with an unspoken tension. Avery, aware of Elliot’s gaze piercing into her from the corner of her eye, felt her pulse quicken, the sensation overwhelming and unnerving. She hastily finished the bottle and was caught off guard when Elliot suddenly seized it from her grip and hurled it aside, the sound shattering the fragile silence that hung in the air. “You want to divorce me because I made you abort that bastard child,” he spat, his voice icy and cutting. Avery bristled at the accusation, her mind racing with nowhere to escape. “It’s your right to not want kids,” she retorted sharply, her voice steady despite the maelstrom of emotions swirling within her. “But you can’t take away my right to be a mother. I want children, and I want to be a mother. Tell me, apart from getting a divorce, how else would I ever have my own kids?” This rift between them felt like a thorn lodged deep within their relationship, a wound that would never heal if left unaddressed. “Why are you so insistent on having children? Do you really like them that much?” Elliot’s voice dripped with disdain, his eyes aflame with anger. Avery clenched her fists as a wave of emotion crashed over her. If she weren’t already pregnant, perhaps she could reconcile with the idea of a childless future. But now, with the weight of responsibility heavy on her heart, how could he be so dismissive? “Why are you so against it? You’re not the one who has to give birth to or raise them! Why can’t you just give them a chance?” Her voice rose above Elliot's, bursting with desperation. The driver glanced nervously in the rearview mirror, astonished. Who did Avery Tate think she was, raising her voice at Elliot Foster? Did she genuinely believe she could challenge the limits of his patience? But instead of retaliating, an eerie silence descended upon the backseat, amplifying the tension between them. Avery, shaken yet resolute, eventually found her voice again, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Everyone has things they’d rather not discuss. What’s the point of fighting about it?” “Don’t think you’re the only one for me, Avery Tate,” Elliot replied, his tone chilling as it cut through the thick silence, devoid of warmth or empathy. “We’re as different as heaven and hell. I’ve never wanted to be on equal footing with you,” she shot back defensively, her heart pounding furiously. “Who’s heaven and who’s hell?” Elliot’s question struck her like lightning, leaving Avery bewildered. What kind of twisted inquiry was that? The pounding in her head intensified, a crescendo of confusion and stress overwhelming her senses. The car, suffused with the heavy scent of alcohol, revolted her; she suddenly felt nauseous. With a sharp breath, she rolled down the window, desperate for fresh air. The cool breeze rushed in, mingling with the swirling storm of emotions within her, offering a glimmer of clarity amidst the chaos of their conflict.