Chapter 2

The next day, Ethan brought them home.

Tiffany, clutching a small, bundled infant, Junior.

And Arthur Hayes Sr., Ethan' s father, his face a mask of grim satisfaction.

Our Seattle home, the one Ethan and I had designed together, suddenly felt alien.

Tiffany looked around, a little too brightly, like she was assessing her new kingdom.

Arthur Sr. didn't even bother with pleasantries.

His eyes, cold and appraising, raked over me.

"So, this is where my grandson will be raised," he announced, not asked.

Ethan hovered, trying to smooth things over.

"Ava, honey, why don't you show Tiffany to the… the guest wing?"

The guest wing. I was already being displaced.

Tiffany gave me a small, triumphant smile that Ethan didn't see.

Arthur Sr. cornered me in the living room while Ethan was fawning over Junior.

"It's a shame, Ava," he said, his voice like gravel. "A real shame you couldn't provide Ethan with an heir."

His words were deliberate, cruel.

He knew about the car accident years ago, the one where I' d shielded Ethan, the one that left me with injuries the doctors said made pregnancy nearly impossible.

"A man needs a son to carry on his name, his business. This boy, Junior, he' s a blessing."

A blessing born of betrayal.

I felt my fingernails dig into my palms.

Ethan found me later, his expression strained.

"Dad can be… blunt. He doesn't mean to be hurtful."

Another lie. Arthur Sr. meant every single word.

"Tiffany won't be here forever, Ava. I promise. Just until she's on her feet, until Junior is a bit older."

Weak promises. Empty words.

He wouldn't look at me, not really.

The master suite, our suite, was the first thing to go.

"It's bigger, more suitable for Tiffany and the baby," Ethan explained, avoiding my gaze. "More light for Junior."

I was moved to a smaller guest room at the far end of the house.

My things were hastily packed by Maria, the housekeeper, her eyes full of pity I didn't want.

Every day was a new humiliation.

Tiffany parading Junior around, cooing about "Daddy's boy."

Arthur Sr. making comments about "a woman's place."

Ethan, caught in the middle, doing nothing, siding with them through his inaction.

He' d watch Tiffany with a tenderness he hadn' t shown me in years.

It was like I was a ghost in my own home.

One evening, Tiffany was complaining about the noise from my "side of the house."

"Junior is a light sleeper, you know," she said to Ethan, loud enough for me to hear.

Ethan nodded. "Ava, could you try to be a bit quieter?"

He actually said that. To me. In our home.

That was the moment something inside me snapped.

I wouldn't be marginalized. I wouldn't be erased.

I decided then. I had to leave. This wasn't my home anymore.