He didn't really want her. She was just a business decision, a signed contract.
Behind him, Celine stood giggling a little too loudly, drawing his attention and making Ava's stomach twist the more.
She hated the way it all still got to her. The way he still got to her.
Fine, she thought. Let them have their show. She'd play along, for now. But this time, she'd find a way around it.
Things would be different now. She would focus on her school, her companies, and building a life that was truly hers.
When she joined Mark, they exchanged pleasantries with dignitaries and guests. But this time, she didn't stand silently by his side like before.
She smiled, made small talk, even posed for a few photos. When introductions were made, she accepted business cards with polite interest, planning to actually call them later.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mark's jaw tighten. He didn't like it.
Good.
Once the formalities were over, she slipped away to join Emily, ready for drinks, gossip, and a taste of freedom.
"Well, well… look who finally learned how to dress."
That voice. Smooth, honeyed, and sharp enough to cut glass. Ava didn't need to turn to know who it was.
She turned anyway, meeting Celine's catlike smile head-on.
"Technically, it's my party," Ava said coolly. "It would've been rude not to show up."
"Well, I almost didn't recognize you without your usual tragic wardrobe."
Ava smiled faintly. "Careful, Celine. I might mistake that for a compliment."
Celine's lips curved in a thin smile. "Don't. Compliments aren't my style." She leaned in slightly, her perfume sweet and suffocating. "You should thank me, really. I practically made this event what it is. But I do admire your optimism, it must take a lot of courage to stand here pretending Mark actually wants you."
Ava's pulse stilled. Then, she let out a soft, amused laugh.
"Funny. I was about to say the same about you."
The flicker of irritation in Celine's eyes was delicious.
"Congratulations on your engagement," Celine said finally, before turning on her heel and gliding away.
Ava watched her go, a cold smile ghosting across her lips.
Round one goes to me.
When Celine finally walked away, Ava let out a shaky breath. For the longest time, that woman had made her feel small. But tonight, remembering everything that happened the night she died, something inside her shifted. That same hate now fueled her, giving her the courage she'd never had before.
"Who are you, and what have you done to my best friend?" Emily asked, her eyes wide with amazement.
Ava laughed.
"Girl, you just served her a royal shutdown. Two words, and she's practically in therapy now."
"It's about time someone taught her a lesson. Besides…" Ava's voice softened. "…it feels good to finally stand up for myself."
"Oh, I like this new Ava. Confident, untouchable, and not taking anyone's nonsense." Then she whispered. "Don't turn… but your ex is here."
"Hello, Ava," his voice came from behind.
Ava turned with a dry smile. "Julian? Am surprised to see you here."
He chuckled, shrugging. "Maybe I just like showing up when you look… irresistible.
Ava forced a smile. "Careful, someone might think you are trying to seduce me."
Julian's smirk didn't falter. "Naa it's obvious you've moved on. Engaged, looking stunning… But I always thought you were beautiful before."
Ava's gaze didn't waver. "Lets have lunch. Over the weekend. My treat."
For the first time, Julian looked genuinely surprised. "It's a date then," he said.
When he left, Emily pulled Ava closer. "Are you insane? Did you just set up a date with Julian?"
Ava smirked. "Relax. I have a plan."
Emily raised an eyebrow. "What plan?"
"I figured the only way to get out of this mess with Mark is to build other allies."
Emily blinked. "And you want Julian as an ally?"
Ava's eyes glinted. "Exactly. He's smart, resourceful… and he owes me."
Ava couldn't tell her everything just yet.
Emily shook her head, a mix of disbelief and admiration. "So you are really doing this... Not marrying Mark?" she whispered.
"If I can help it."
Emily laughed, half in awe, half in exasperation. "I swear, you're fearless… or crazy."
"Maybe both," Ava said, her eyes scanning the ceremony. Mark stood by the terrace, Celine close behind, laughing with the guests.
Ava's jaw tightened. She was more determined than ever. This time, she wasn't going to be anyone's pawn.
Damien Blackwood sat alone at the bar, wondering for the hundredth time why he'd even come. His assistant had mumbled something about keeping up appearances or good faith with the board — he hadn't really listened. The truth was, he wouldn't have shown up at all if his father hadn't insisted. The family had been invited, so, naturally, he had to represent them.
Classic.
He hated these kinds of events too loud, too polished, too many people pretending to care. Ever since that ridiculous magazine had named him the most eligible bachelor, he couldn't go anywhere without drawing attention.
All he wanted was a quiet drink and a reason to leave early.
But then he saw her.
Wait… wasn't that supposed to be the bride? That wasn't the woman he'd seen in the photos online.
A slow smirk tugged at his lips. Well, this is a refreshing change.
He took a sip of his drink, eyes narrowing slightly.
Why would a woman that stunning tie herself to a man like him?
He watched her laughing across the room. Why did he care, her life, her choice... But still.
When he saw Mark moving toward her, Damien decided it was time to call it a night. He wasn't one for staying out late anyway... But he especially didn't like seeing her with that creep.
Ava spotted her fiancé — by contract, nothing more — walking towards her with that confident, well-practiced smile.
I need to use the bathroom," she murmured to Emily before slipping away trying to avoid him.
Rounding a corner, she collided head-on with someone. The impact sent a splash of red wine spilling across her white dress… and the stranger's dark suit.
Ava froze, eyes widening at the red stain blooming across her dress. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she blurted, grabbing a napkin from a nearby table.
The man stepped back, his tone calm but clipped. "It's fine."
It wasn't fine. The deep burgundy spread like ink across his perfectly tailored suit, but he didn't even glance at it. Instead, his gaze lingered on her. He looked surprised or amused... It's hard to tell.
"I wasn't watching where I was going," she said quickly, trying to dab at her dress.
"I can see that," he murmured. "You're bleeding red wine, not blood. So, I suppose it could be worse."
Ava finally looked up. Dark eyes, strong jaw, annoyingly good-looking. He looked vaguely familiar… and then it hit her — Damien Blackwood.
Of all people.
"Right," she said under her breath, clutching the ruined napkin. "Because staining your perfectly tailored suit is perfectly fine."
He tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her nerve. "Depends. Are you always this clumsy at your own engagement party?"
"This is my first one," she said dryly. "So, I guess I'm still learning."
"Well," he said, reaching for another napkin, "try to be less clumsy. The whole city's watching your little fairy tale." His eyes dropped to her ring. "Or maybe… your tragedy."
Then he handed her the napkin and walked away.
That was when Mark appeared, frowning. "What happened to you?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, straightening her dress. "I bumped into someone."
"Someone?" His eyes followed the trail of red droplets across the floor, and Ava forced a small smile.
"Relax, Mark. It's just wine."
He frowned, stepping closer, his voice softening. "Your dress is ruined."
"Yes, I can see that," she said still dubbing with the napkin.
He reached out as if to help, but she brushed it off with a faint smile.
"It's fine, really. Just a little spill," she said lightly, glancing down at her dress. "I should clean it slightly. Get me Emily, I have a spare dress in the car."
Mark hesitated, his hand still half-raised. "Do you want me to come with you?"
She shook her head. "No need. Get me Emy instead."
As she waited in the ladies' room, blotting at her dress, a strange sense of déjà vu washed over her. This had happened before, not exactly the same, but close enough to make her chest tighten.
In her previous life, the spill had been deliberate. A public humiliation, a "mistake" staged right under the flashing cameras. Celine had laughed then, and Mark hadn't even bothered to defend her.
Now, standing before the mirror, Ava stared at the faint red bloom on her gown and let out a slow breath.
Does it mean she can't escape her fate?