The crystal chandelier above gleamed like stars, casting shimmering light across the grand ballroom of the Astoria Hotel. Everyone who was anyone in Velmoré's elite circled champagne flutes and hollow flattery in designer tuxedos and gowns.
Ava stood at the top of the marble staircase in a scarlet dress that hugged her curves. She wasn't here to mingle.
Today, she was here to settle some scores.
Tonight was her father's annual charity gala—an event she'd once loved. But tonight, it would become her stage. The Lorne name had power. So did she, now she is a Sterling. And after what they did to her, Ava refused to stay silent.
Below, she spotted them—him—Liam, her polished, charming ex-fiancé, whispering something into the ear of the woman beside him.
Her stepsister.
Lily smiled sweetly, her hand resting on Liam's chest like she owned him. The same girl who used to cry to Ava about not fitting in. The same girl who had slithered her way into Ava's life—and bed.
Ava gripped the mic in her hand as she walked to the stage as an award was being presented.
"Ladies and gentlemen," her voice rang clear through the speakers. Conversations stilled. Eyes turned.
She smiled. Sweet. Icy. Unbothered.
"I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all for coming. Tonight's charity is close to my heart—betrayal recovery programs for women. Because, well…" She let her eyes slide to Liam and Lily. "It's something I've had a recent personal encounter with."
Whispers filled the room.
"You see," she continued, voice firm but calm, "I was supposed to be married to Liam. Until I caught him in bed with my stepsister last month."
A gasp shot through the crowd. Cameras clicked. Someone dropped their drink.
Ava lifted her phone. Behind her, the projector screen lit up. A grainy but very real photo appeared: Liam and Lily—half-dressed, kissing. Timestamped.
Lily choked. Liam turned ashen. She bet they didn't think she would do this.
"I thought it was only right to let you all know—since you're donating money under the impression that integrity still lives in this family."
The silence was absolute. Delicious.
Her father stood frozen by the stage, fury etched into his aging face. But he didn't move. Couldn't.
And then… she saw him.
Dante Ashcroft.
He stood at the far end of the room. Dark suit. Broad shoulders. Cold dark eyes locked on her. He smirked when her gaze met his. She couldn't help but smile.