The smell of white lilies clung to her fingertips.
White lilies.
Her mother's favorite.
A soft smile played on her lips. For a moment, she was no longer in her quiet little shop tucked at the edge of the countryside. She was a child again, feet dangling off a garden bench, watching her mother hum a tune while clipping flowers under the afternoon sun.
"Still watching flowers like they hold the answers," her mother had once said with a laugh.
Ava had never really stopped.
Her shop, Lily & Ash, stood nestled beside a winding road that curled along the hills just beyond the reach of the city.
On weekends, this place became her sanctuary.
Just the soft thud of petals on wood and the occasional chatter of loyal customers who stumbled upon her shop for its view.
Ava stood behind the wooden counter of her quaint florist shop nestled on the quiet edge of the city. Unlike the sharp glass towers and endless car horns of downtown, this place breathed peace.
The windows, now fogged with the gentle touch of morning dew, opened to a view of rolling green fields and a horizon that seemed to stretch forever. The kind of view that whispered calm into one's bones.
Today was Saturday—her favorite kind of day. On weekends, she didn't have to play the game of boardrooms or shuffle through emails under a different name. Here, she was just Ava—the florist. No one knew of the family conglomerate she came from. No one cared. And for the next five months, that's exactly how she wanted it.
Ava looked up from her bouquet and leaned against the counter. clouds had turned black and raced with each other it felt like in any moment they will start their storm .
She pressed her palm lightly to the glass and whispered with a wistful grin, "If this is the storm before the change... let it come."
Only five months left.
Five months to live on her own terms, far from the glittering prison of wealth, from the betrayal that proved love wasn't for women like her—at least not the version she had hoped for. She had come to this city chasing a dream of simple love. What she got instead was a cruel reminder: people don't look for hearts; they look for bank balances.
Still, she was determined.
"I'll enjoy what's left of this bet," she whispered to herself, "and live like I always wanted to."
Just then, raindrops tapped on the shop's windowpane, light and rhythmic. Ava looked up, watching the clouds roll in. A silver curtain veiled the horizon, and rain began falling in gentle waves. The glass glistened with droplets.
"It's going to be a beautiful evening," she murmured, smiling.
And then, like fate knocking twice, the shop door flung open.
"Hey baby girl!" Diana's voice rang out like a live wire, dragging Ava straight from her reverie. She waltzed in, her body hugged by a crimson mini dress, heels clicking sharply against the wooden floor. "Wanna hit it with me tonight?"
Leah followed close behind, clad in a sleek black dress, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She leaned casually on the doorway, crossing her arms. "Nah, she's mine tonight. You're coming with me, sweetheart."
Ava rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Not happening. I'm exhausted. Just want to catch up on sleep."
"Come on, don't be cruel," Diana pleaded dramatically, draping herself over the counter. "Let's hit a few beers before reality ruins Monday again!"
Leah joined her palms together, eyes wide with mock innocence. "Pretty please? Let's loosen up just a little?"
Ava sighed, staring between the two. Their energy was infectious, even on the most tired of days. "Fine," she said with a smile, feigning defeat. "Let's go."
The girls whooped in unison. "Yeeah!"
—
The rain had stopped by the time they reached the club.
Tucked at the far end of a dimly lit alley that most GPS systems failed to recognize, the building looked deceptively ordinary—just a set of tall, black double doors with no sign, no sound, and no indication of what lay behind them.
But Diana walked up confidently, flashing a sleek silver card with the Matthews family insignia etched in gold.
Diana had strings she could pull effortlessly. She had met Ava accidentally during a fundraiser. One witty remark turned into a night of laughter, and somehow, the heiress and the runaway corporate princess became fast friends.
The doors opened without a word.
Inside, the world changed.
Ava stepped into dim lighting that bled violet and blue across marble floors. High ceilings. Crystal chandeliers shaped like blooming flowers. Laughter and bass pulsed from deeper within, but here, at the threshold, the air already reeked of expensive perfume, power, and secrecy.
Parachute.
A bar only whispered about. No advertisements. No public listings. People came here not to be seen—but to do things that couldn't be seen elsewhere. Here, money bought silence, not attention.
Ava had been here once before—dragged by Diana during a heartbreak-fueled night months ago. She hadn't liked it then. She didn't like it now.
"Don't worry," Diana leaned toward her and whispered over the music. "I booked us a private room. Top floor.
"Thanks," Ava replied with a nod, grateful.
Their private suite was located on the club's upper floor—reserved for elite members only. The elevator opened into a quieter, lavish hallway. Velvet-lined walls. Soft jazz in the background. This was another world entirely.
Once inside, they settled in. The room boasted plush seating and a panoramic view of the city lights from behind a tinted glass wall.
After a few sips of wine, Ava rose from her seat. "I'm going to the washroom."
As she left, Diana glanced at Leah. "She's not herself yet."
Leah sighed, adjusting her earrings. "Yeah… she's still hurt. That idiot really lost a gem"
"She thought she found her true love"
"I hate seeing her like this." Leah's voice softened. "How do we fix this?"
Leah leaned closer. "Get her drunk. Let her dance. Shake the frustration out."
Diana smirked, half-joking. "Last time she got drunk, she almost punched a guy."
"Yeah, but it was hilarious," Leah grinned. "And she looked happy."
"Alright," Diana chuckled. "But you're responsible for the aftermath."
—
Ava stood at the golden-lit sink, washing her hands.
The restroom was quiet—too quiet. The sound of running water echoed as she stared at her reflection. Her eyes looked tired, but sharp. As she reached for a paper towel, another woman stepped beside her, speaking on the phone.
"Spike his drink. Send him to the upper floor," the woman said, her voice hushed but unmistakably sinister. "Don't let him get wise about it."
Ava's eyes flicked toward the mirror.
The woman was beautiful, dressed in a tight silver gown, hair curled to perfection. But her gaze… it was sharp. Jealous. The kind that tried to peel away your worth with a glance.
Ava ignored her, dried her hands, and turned to leave.
But something didn't feel right.
Her instincts buzzed as she sensed a shadow moving behind her. She swerved just in time to dodge the incoming figure—only for a second pair of hands to strike from the other side. A sharp pain shot through her head as everything went black.
—
She woke to the hum of electricity.
A single light blazed above her head, stark against the grey walls. The rest of the room was dipped in shadow. Her wrists and ankles were tied tightly to a steel chair. A thin strip of dried blood clung to her temple. Panic clawed at her chest, but she kept her breathing steady.
Focus. Assess.
This wasn't just some scare tactic.
This was planned.
She tugged at the bindings—nothing gave. Her neck twisted, scanning the room.
And then she felt it.
A gaze. Burning. Focused.
Someone was here. Watching her.
From the shadows.
She didn't see him, but she felt him. That same intensity… It clawed at her memory. It wasn't unfamiliar. Her heart beat faster, not just in fear—but in recognition.
Whoever it was—he was the reason she was here.
---Let me know if you'd like the next scene to shift into the male lead's POV or continue with Ava unraveling the mymysterymys