The Blackwood estate was too quiet.
It wasn't the silence of peace — it was the silence before something broke.
Ava sat in the sunroom, the photo of Cecilia now locked away, but not forgotten. Damien hadn't spoken much since their last conversation. He hadn't withdrawn, exactly — but there was a watchfulness to him now, like a man waiting for his past to rise from the floorboards.
It wasn't if.
It was when.
She was just finishing a call with a discreet investigator when Lisette appeared at the door, stiff and pale.
"There's a woman here to see you," she said. "She… wouldn't give a name. But she said you'd know."
Ava rose. "Where is she?"
"In the greenhouse."
Of course. A glass box. Sunlight everywhere. No place to hide a weapon. Classic Helena.
---
The greenhouse dripped with humidity and lush, exotic flowers. Ava stepped inside and immediately spotted the woman in red — not the same dress as before, but close. Flowing silk. Blood-colored. Her hair was pinned into something effortlessly elegant, and a pair of dark sunglasses sat perched on her head like a crown.
Helena turned. "I thought I'd bring a peace offering."
She held out a box of macarons — gilded, delicate, absurdly expensive.
"I don't want your sweets," Ava said.
"Then take my warning."
Helena stepped closer, her heels clicking against the tiled path.
"You're smarter than I gave you credit for," she said softly. "Most women in your position are too busy playing the victim to see the chessboard. But not you."
"I'm not playing," Ava said. "This isn't a game."
"Oh, darling." Helena smiled. "It always is."
Ava folded her arms. "So what are you here for? Another performance? A reminder that you once warmed Damien's bed?"
"I came to give you a choice."
Helena pulled something from her clutch — a thumb drive.
"This contains evidence that could destroy Damien's company. It includes recordings, offshore accounts, footage of meetings that were supposed to disappear. Things his father started… and Damien finished."
Ava's heart skipped.
"Why are you giving this to me?"
"Because I want you to survive," Helena said. "And right now, he's using you."
Ava laughed bitterly. "Funny. He said the same thing about you."
Helena didn't blink. "He's right. I used him. The difference is, I didn't pretend to love him while I did it."
That hit too close to home.
Ava stared at the drive in Helena's hand.
"What's the catch?"
"You can run. Leave. Leak this to the right people and vanish before the blood hits the marble. Or…"
Helena stepped in closer, her perfume a cold, violet thing.
"…you can keep lying to yourself that this man isn't drowning you one inch at a time."
Ava didn't take the drive.
Not yet.
But she didn't refuse it either.
Helena smiled like that was victory enough. Then she turned, her silk gown brushing the orchids as she vanished into the sunlit haze of the greenhouse.
---
That night, Ava didn't sleep.
She sat in the office, staring at the thumb drive. The screen glowed softly in the dark. She hadn't opened it.
She could.
She should.
But something held her back.
Footsteps padded behind her — she turned, already knowing it was Damien.
"I saw her leave," he said.
Ava didn't answer.
He glanced at the drive. "She gave you a gift, didn't she?"
"She gave me a choice," Ava replied, her voice low.
Damien stepped closer. "You think I don't know what's on that?"
"Then tell me what it is."
"A trap," he said flatly. "There are parts of my father's legacy I've spent years burying. But Helena… she was always better at digging up corpses."
She met his gaze. "Are they yours?"
Silence.
"No," he said. "But they might as well be. I kept quiet. I protected what shouldn't have been protected. I was young and angry and reckless, and by the time I realized how deep I was, it was too late to climb out without blood on my hands."
He moved in front of her.
"I'm not asking you to trust me blindly, Ava. But if you're going to burn me, look me in the eyes when you do it."
Ava stared at him, breath caught in her throat.
He didn't flinch.
And she didn't move.
Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.
"I don't want to destroy you."
Damien's hand slid along her jaw, his touch tentative. "Then don't let her make you forget who we are."
"What are we?" she asked.
He leaned down, his lips brushing hers. "Something that shouldn't exist. But does."
And then he kissed her.
This time, it wasn't slow.
It wasn't soft.
It was desperate.
A war between truth and loyalty, fury and desire. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer. His mouth found her throat, her collarbone, his breath ragged against her skin.
When he lifted her onto the desk, she didn't stop him.
She didn't want to.
Clothes slipped away like secrets. He kissed her like he didn't expect forgiveness but still begged for it. And she let him, because some things couldn't be explained.
They could only be survived.
---
Later, in the quiet aftermath, Ava lay tangled in sheets, watching the drive flicker on the edge of the desk.
She hadn't opened it.
But it was still there.
Waiting.
Just like the past.
---