The night was thick with tension.
Ava stood barefoot on the cold marble floor of the Carter penthouse, clutching Jace's phone. The cryptic message blinked on the screen:
> "You took down pawns. The king is still in play."
Her heart raced. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
---
12 Hours Earlier
The gala sparkled with wealth. Chandeliers glittered like stars, and the orchestra played a soft waltz in the background. Ava descended the marble stairs in a crimson gown, every inch a queen.
Jace stood at the base, his tailored tux a sharp contrast to the raw tension in his jaw. He offered his arm, and she took it without hesitation. They moved like a power couple—elegant, graceful, untouchable.
But beneath the perfection, Ava could feel it—the unease.
Eyes watched them too closely. Whispers trailed them like shadows.
And then she saw him.
Vincent Moreau.
Tall. Arrogant. Dressed in sleek grey. He raised a glass toward Ava with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. It was venom wrapped in charm.
Jace saw him too.
"Stay here," Jace whispered.
"No. Not this time," Ava replied, steel in her voice.
But before they could reach him, Vincent disappeared into the crowd, leaving only a calling card on the bar:
> "Tick tock."
A declaration. A game.
---
The Storm Breaks
The attacks began in the dead of night.
First came the media leaks—Ava's edited emails implying bribery and fraud. Then, false social media posts under her name. Sponsors backed out of the foundation. Clients panicked.
Ava watched everything crumble in real time.
And Jace? He was cornered by frozen bank accounts, seized assets, and a federal investigation.
"You're being erased," their lawyer warned. "Methodically."
But Ava didn't fold.
She rose.
"This isn't panic," she told Jace. "It's war."
And war needed a battlefield.
---
Paris: Shadows of the Past
With fake passports, burner phones, and forged invitations, Ava and Jace traveled to Paris. They weren't alone—Elodie Brousseau, a firebrand investigative journalist with a vendetta of her own, joined them.
They didn't just come to confront Vincent.
They came to expose him.
The underground art auction was their way in.
Disguised in a sharp black jumpsuit, Ava walked into the vault of a fake gallery where stolen art, illegal contracts, and blackmail evidence were traded like currency.
Vincent stood waiting, surrounded by paintings worth millions—and secrets worth far more.
He smiled when he saw her. "You came to beg?"
"I came to end you," Ava said.
With one signal, Elodie activated her drone cameras. The room flooded with light.
"You're live," she said. "Smile for the world."
Vincent lunged—but Interpol agents stormed in. Sirens echoed through the hall.
Within minutes, he was cuffed, furious and screaming, dragged away.
---
Aftermath
Ava returned home a different woman.
Her story went viral. #QueenOfRevenge. Interviews. Donations. Headlines.
But it wasn't over.
Ava held a press conference on the steps of her foundation.
"I didn't survive scandal," she said. "I transformed it. I'm not a victim. I'm a revolution."
---
That night, Jace found her in the rooftop garden, looking out over the city.
"You didn't just survive," he said. "You rewrote your story."
She turned to him. "And you stayed by my side, even when it nearly destroyed you."
He took her hand. "Because you're worth burning the whole world down for."
Their kiss was slow. Passionate. Every barrier gone.
He lifted her into his arms, and the night turned into something tender, electric, and infinite.
---
But far away…
In a shadowy cell, Lena sat with a laptop in front of her. She watched the press conference, her fingers tapping slowly.
"Enjoy the crown, Ava," she whispered. "Because I'm taking it back. Piece by piece."
She clicked open a new file: "Project Phoenix."