The Secret He Doesn't Know
Upper West Side, New York
Later That Evening
The familiar creak of the apartment door greeted Ava as she stepped into the warm, quiet haven she'd built from scratch. Clean lines. Earth tones. Soft lighting. A space meant to heal.
"Mommy!"
The sound cracked her heart wide open.
Liam barreled into her legs, a bundle of energy and curls, his little arms clinging tight around her waist. Ava dropped to her knees, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Hey, baby," she whispered, brushing her fingers through his soft brown hair. "Were you good for Auntie Jess?"
"I drew you a picture! It's us. At the zoo. With the monkeys."
Ava laughed softly. "I can't wait to see it."
Jessica, her best friend and Liam's honorary aunt, leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and a look on her face that Ava had come to dread.
"You saw him."
Ava nodded, standing up with a sigh. "Yes."
Jess raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"He looked right through me like I was some stranger walking in off the street."
"Well, you did kind of ghost him five years ago... after your wedding," Jess said gently.
Ava grabbed a glass of water. Her hand trembled slightly. "He doesn't know."
"About Liam?"
A nod. "Not a clue."
Jessica exhaled. "And how long are you planning to keep it that way?"
Ava glanced into the living room, where Liam sat with crayons, humming to himself. Her voice dropped.
"He didn't want kids. He made that clear before we even got married. Damien was obsessed with work, with power, with control. I couldn't raise a baby in that life."
"You should've given him the choice."
Ava's shoulders tensed. She had asked herself the same question every night for the last five years. But back then, pregnant, alone, and drowning in silence from a man who seemed more married to his company than to her—she chose what she thought was survival.
"I wasn't the same woman back then," she said. "And he wasn't the same man."
Jessica didn't argue. She just walked over and hugged her. "You're going to have to tell him, Ava. Soon."
Ava watched Liam giggle at his own drawing, completely unaware of the storm coming.
"Yeah," she said softly. "But not until I know I can protect him—from Damien... and from whatever comes next."
---
Wolfe Tower, 2:00 a.m.
Damien hadn't left his office.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, Manhattan's lights stretching endlessly below him, whiskey glass untouched in his hand.
Ava.
The name echoed in his head like a curse and a prayer.
She looked... different. More confident. More guarded. But her eyes—those eyes he'd never forgotten—still haunted him.
Why had she really left?
Why now?
He needed answers. And Damien Wolfe wasn't a man who liked being left in the dark.
He picked up his phone, already dialing his private investigator.
"Find everything you can on Ava Sinclair. Where she's been, who she's been with... and if she's hiding anything."
Because if she thought she could walk back into his life and walk away again—
She had no idea who she was dealing with anymore.