Chapter 2 two

Sis.

The word struck harder than the betrayal itself. Vanessa had always done this, taking things that were not hers, smiling while she did it, and somehow making Ava feel small for caring.

Old humiliations flashed through Ava's mind all at once. Vanessa wearing her bracelet and claiming it looked better on her. Vanessa laughing when their father defended Ava. Vanessa calling her dramatic, jealous, too sensitive.

And Ethan. Ethan, who had listened to Ava cry about her family. Ethan, who knew exactly what Vanessa was to her. Ethan, who still chose this.

He dragged a hand through his hair, irritation already replacing guilt. "Look, don't start making this bigger than it is."

Ava said nothing.

His jaw hardened. "You and I both know this hasn't been working for a while. You're always exhausted. Always stressed. Always talking about bills and your mother and problems." His eyes swept over her, cold now. "You're boring, Ava. And you're poor. Vanessa brings something real to the table. Her father's connections are worth more than constant struggle."

The words landed one after another, brutal and clean. Vanessa tilted her head and smiled like she had already won.

Ava felt something in her chest cave in. But when she spoke, her voice came out quiet. Too quiet.

"My father is dead, Ethan."

He fell silent.

Ava turned to Vanessa. "He was your stepfather too."

For the first time, Vanessa's smug expression flickered. It lasted only a second, but Ava saw it.

*Good.*

She wanted that one second, that one crack, that one reminder that even if they had shredded her pride tonight, they did not get to rewrite the dead to flatter themselves.

No one spoke after that. The silence stretched, sharp and ugly.

Ava stood there in her pale blue dress, holding a dented birthday cake for a man who had forgotten her by morning and betrayed her by night, and suddenly she saw herself the way they must have seen her. Pathetic. Predictable. Easy to wound.

Heat rushed behind her eyes, but she swallowed it down so hard it hurt. She would not cry here, not in front of Ethan, not in front of Vanessa, not while they sat wrapped in stolen pleasure and cheap excuses. If her heart wanted to break, it would have to do it without witnesses.

So she turned around and walked out.

She didn't slam the door. That would have been too dramatic for them, too much proof that they still had power over her. Instead she closed it quietly behind her and kept walking until the hallway blurred and the elevator doors became silver smears through her burning eyes.

Behind her, she thought she heard Ethan call her name once. Just once. It was weak, half-hearted, and nothing like the voice of a man who wanted to follow.

She didn't turn back.

By the time she reached the street, the rain had grown wild. It poured over the city in furious sheets, soaking her hair, her dress, and her skin in seconds. Cold water slid down her neck and back, but Ava barely felt it.

She stopped beside a metal trash bin under the weak glow of a streetlamp and looked down at the cake in her hands. The box had bent inward. Pink frosting had smeared across the lid, and the strawberries had shifted.

Slowly, she opened it.

The cake looked wrecked. A little like her.

"Happy birthday," she whispered to herself, and the words came out cracked.

Then she dropped the whole thing into the trash. The box landed with a soft, humiliating thud. Ava stared at it a second longer, then started walking.

She had nowhere to go, not really. Home meant hospital bills spread across the table, her mother's empty chair, and fear waiting in every corner. Ethan was gone. Her pride was gone. And eighty thousand dollars still stood in front of her like a wall she could never climb.

Her mind raced through every option, and every option ended the same way. Her manager at the diner would give her sympathy, not money. The bank had already turned her down twice. Her friends were as broke as she was, and the only person with that kind of wealth in her life had just smirked at her from Ethan's couch.

*Happy birthday, sis.*

Ava pressed her lips together and kept moving.

The rain hit harder. Her heels splashed through shallow puddles as she walked down the sidewalk, arms wrapped around herself, every breath unsteady. Her dress clung to her skin like ice. Strands of wet hair stuck to her cheeks, and she no longer knew which of the drops on her face were rain.

Her phone buzzed weakly in her hand. She looked down.

2%.

A message notification flickered and vanished before she could read it. Then the screen went black.

Ava let out a hollow laugh that sounded too close to a sob. "Of course."

She stopped at the edge of the street and pushed the wet hair from her face.

That was when she saw it.

Across the road, glowing through the rain and darkness like temptation itself, was a sign in sleek gold letters.

NOIR LOUNGE

Warm amber light spilled from the windows. Bass-heavy music pulsed faintly through the storm. Luxury cars lined the curb, their polished black hoods gleaming under the rain. Everything about the place screamed money. It was the kind of place Ava never entered, where women wore silk and diamonds instead of faded blue dresses bought on sale, and where no one smelled like diner coffee and heartbreak.

She should keep walking. She should go home, charge her phone, and panic properly about Friday.

Instead, she stood there drenched and shaking, staring at that glowing sign as if it had appeared just for her.

One drink, she thought. Just one. Then I'll figure out the money.

It was a stupid idea. Weak. Temporary. But tonight, stupid was all she had left.

Ava crossed the street, her heels sinking in the water pooled along the curb. She climbed the short steps, her hand trembling as it closed around the cold brass handle, and pushed open the door.

Warmth hit her first. Then music. Then light.

The air inside smelled of expensive whiskey and something darker, richer, like smoke and leather. Her wet shoes left small prints on the polished floor, and for a moment she felt painfully out of place, a drowned girl in a cheap blue dress standing in a room made of gold and shadow.

Laughter drifted from the tables. Glass clinked against glass. No one looked twice at her.

Almost no one.