Leo's eyes dropped to my old jacket.
His lips twitched into a smirk so faint it was almost invisible.
Almost.
But I saw it.
I felt it.
Humiliation sliced through me like a blade.
On the drive home, Ava clung to my arm like nothing happened.
"Ethan, they lost you once. We need to show warmth. Effort. Respect."
We.
Need.
To show.
Respect.
To the people who abandoned me?
To the people who looked at me like I was filth on their carpet?
She kept talking, her voice soft and coaxing.
"I'll help you. I'll talk to them. I'll make sure they accept you."
Make sure they accept me.
Like I was some stray dog she was trying to rehome.
And then she said the words that made my chest ache:
"Let me handle things."
Handle.
Me.
Them.
Everything.
Suddenly, the memories hit me like a freight truck.
Ava laughing as she stirred mac-and-cheese when we only had fifty dollars left.
Ava crying with me when my first business collapsed.
Ava holding me when I thought I was worthless.
That woman—
the one who said "We'll start again"…
was disappearing.
Being replaced
by someone who wanted power.
Status.
A place in the Clark family.
Not with me—
but above me.
Later that night, I saw her on the balcony, phone screen lighting her face.
She was smiling.
At a message.
Not from me.
From Leo.
And in that moment—
A knife I couldn't see twisted deep in my chest.