Ava POV

I spent the night feeding the incinerator.

The toxic herbs hissed and popped within the flames, turning from lethal dried leaves into grey, unrecognizable ash. I watched the fire dance, mesmerized. It felt symbolic. I was burning my blind loyalty, watching it disintegrate just like the trust I had placed in Ethan Reed.

The smoke smelled bitter. It stung my eyes, or maybe I was just crying. I couldn't tell anymore.

By morning, the lab was clinical, cold, and spotless. I had scrubbed every surface with bleach, the harsh chemical scent masking the lingering acrid tang of burning herbs. I was exhausted, my bones aching with a weariness that sleep couldn't touch.

The door swung open without a knock. Ethan walked in, bringing the scent of expensive cologne and fresh coffee with him. He looked rested. Happy, even.

"She slept like a baby," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "That tonic works miracles, Ava."

I forced the corners of my mouth up. It felt like stretching old rubber. "I'm glad."

"She's been through a lot," he continued, striding over to my workstation. He didn't look at me; he looked at the equipment, touching a microscope with idle curiosity. "She needs stability. We need to make her feel welcome."

"We?" I asked, the word slipping out before I could stop it.

He finally looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly as if my confusion was an inconvenience. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black card. He slid it across the stainless steel table. It stopped inches from my hand.

"Buy yourself something," he said. "You've been working hard. A vacation, maybe. Get away for a few days."

I stared at the plastic rectangle. It wasn't a gift. It was a dismissal. He was paying me off. He was buying my silence and my compliance. He wanted me out of the house so he could play happy family with Chloe.

"Is this my bonus?" I asked, my voice flat. "For not poisoning her?"

His eyes darkened. "Don't be dramatic, Ava. It's a gesture. Take it."

I picked up the card. It felt cold against my skin. "Thank you, Ethan."

"Good." He checked his watch. "I have to go. Family business downtown. I might be late."

He turned and left without another word. No kiss. No 'I'll see you later.' Just the back of his suit jacket disappearing down the hall.

I waited until his footsteps faded before I threw the card into the trash bin.

That evening, my burner phone vibrated against the metal table. It was the report from Marco.

I sat on the floor of the lab, scrolling through the encrypted file. The blue light of the screen illuminated the horror dawning on my face.

Chloe hadn't been "fragile." She hadn't been suffering.

For ten years, she had been living in Vegas, hopping from one high-roller to another. There were photos of her hanging off the arms of low-level mobsters, card sharps, and hustlers. She had racked up massive gambling debts.

But the last page was the one that made my blood run cold.

In the last three months, she had been visiting a clandestine clinic in the Bronx. A place known for "specialized" treatments. The report didn't say what she was doing there, but it noted she met with a man named Russo-a known poisoner for the Moretti family, our rivals.

She wasn't back for love. She was back for sanctuary. Or worse, she was a plant.

I needed to tell Ethan. I stood up, gripping the phone, ready to run to him. He had to know.

My phone rang. It was him.

"Ethan, I need to-"

"I can't talk," he cut me off, his voice breathless. "Something came up. A shipment got hit at the docks. I won't be home tonight."

"Ethan, listen to me, it's about Chloe-"

"Ava, not now!" he snapped. "Handle things at the house. Make sure she takes her medicine."

The line clicked dead.

He chose her. Even when he wasn't there, he chose her comfort over my voice.

I stood there, the silence of the lab pressing in on me. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, so strong I had to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling.

Nausea rolled through my stomach. I swallowed it down, thinking it was just stress. But then the pain started.

It began as a dull ache in my lower abdomen and quickly escalated into a sharp, twisting cramp that brought me to my knees.

"Oh god," I gasped, clutching my stomach.

It felt like something was tearing inside me.

I crawled to the cabinet where I kept emergency supplies. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely open the latch. I needed pain meds. I needed...

I looked down. A dark stain was spreading on my white lab coat. Blood.

My heart stopped.

I wasn't just sick. I was losing it.

I had suspected I might be pregnant. Ethan and I had a slip-up two months ago, a night of desperate passion after a close call with a rival gang. I hadn't told him. I wanted to be sure. I wanted it to be a happy surprise.

Now, it was a tragedy happening on the cold tile floor.

I dragged myself to my phone and dialed the only number I could trust. Not Ethan. He was "busy."

"Ben," I gasped when he answered. "I need you. Now."

"Ava? What's wrong?" Ben Carter's voice was filled with alarm. He was the family doctor, a man who had stitched up Ethan more times than I could count.

"Just come," I whispered. "Please."

The next hour was a blur of agony and silence. I didn't scream. I couldn't let the guards hear. I couldn't let Chloe hear. I birthed my grief in silence, cleaning up the blood with paper towels, flushing the remains of my future away.

By the time Ben arrived, I was sitting in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, shivering uncontrollably. The room smelled of bleach and iron.

Ben took one look at me and the trash bin full of bloody towels, and his face went pale. He didn't ask stupid questions. He went to work. He checked my vitals, gave me a shot for the pain, and started an IV.

"Ava," he said softly, his hand on my shoulder. "You lost it."

"I know," I said. My eyes were dry. I had no tears left. "Don't tell him."

"Ethan has a right to know."

"He's not here, is he?" I looked at Ben, my eyes hollow. "He's out dealing with 'business.' He doesn't care, Ben. He never cared."

Ben looked away, conflict warring in his eyes. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid.

"This will help with the infection risk," he said. Then he paused. He looked at the vial, then at me. "Ava, this wasn't... natural."

My head snapped up. "What?"

"The rate of blood loss, the cramping intensity... it looks induced." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Like you ingested an abortifacient."

My mind flashed back to the "calming tea" Chloe had insisted on making for me yesterday afternoon. To thank you for being so welcoming, she had said.

I stared at Ben, the horror dawning on me.

"Rest," Ben said, handing me a sedative. "We can't prove anything yet. But be careful. Some things in this house are toxic."

I took the pill. It felt heavy in my hand.

I lay back on the cot, the cold plastic of the IV line against my arm. I had lost my child. Ethan was gone. And the woman sleeping in his bed had likely murdered my baby.

I closed my eyes, and for the first time in my life, I didn't pray for Ethan's safety. I prayed for the strength to burn this entire house to the ground.

Ava POV

I lay in the dark, listening to the sterile hum of the refrigerator in the lab.

The sedative Ben had administered made my limbs feel like lead, but my mind was a scalpel, cutting through the fog of grief with cold precision.

Ben came back the next afternoon.

Dark crescents hung beneath his eyes. He locked the lab door behind him and scanned the room for bugs-a habit ingrained from a decade of working for the Reeds.

"We need to talk," he said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket.

He handed it to me. It was a toxicology report.

"I ran your blood work from last night," Ben said, his voice barely a whisper. "I found traces of Pennyroyal and Blue Cohosh. High concentrations."

I stared at the numbers. They were just black ink on white paper, but they screamed premeditation. These were herbs used for centuries to induce miscarriages.

"Chloe," I said. The name tasted like bile.

"I checked the inventory of the underground clinic she was visiting in the Bronx," Ben continued, his eyes heavy with pity. "They ordered these specific herbs three days ago. Under a pseudonym."

"She poisoned me."

The realization didn't bring tears; it brought a glacial clarity.

"She made me tea," I said, my voice trembling with a rage so cold it burned. "She smiled and watched me drink it, knowing it would kill his child."

"Ava, you have to leave," Ben said, gripping my hand. "If Ethan finds out..."

"If Ethan finds out what?" I pulled my hand away. "That his girlfriend is a murderer? Or that he was too busy playing Don to protect his own unborn child?"

"He won't believe it," Ben said sadly. "She has his ear. She has his heart. He thinks she's a victim."

I laughed-a jagged, foreign sound that scraped against my throat.

"He promised me a home, Ben. He promised me we were family."

"I can help you get out," Ben offered. "I have contacts."

"No."

I stood up, ignoring the sharp, phantom pain in my abdomen. "Running is for victims. And I am done being a victim."

I walked over to my desk and opened the bottom drawer. Inside, hidden beneath a stack of old medical journals, was a file I had prepared months ago. Just in case.

It was a separation agreement. Not for a marriage-we weren't married-but for a business partnership.

It outlined the division of assets, specifically the patents for the drugs I had created for the family. The clotting agents, the undetectable poisons, the stimulants. They were mine. Legally and intellectually.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number for the family's lawyer, Mr. Steinberg.

"I need you to execute the separation protocol," I said. "Asset division. Immediate effect."

Steinberg sputtered on the other end. "Miss Miller, surely you want to discuss this with the Don first? The timing is..."

"The timing is perfect," I cut him off. "Do it. And keep it quiet until the papers are ready."

I hung up just as my personal cell phone buzzed.

Ethan.

I stared at the screen for a long moment before answering.

"Ava?" His voice was smooth, devoid of guilt. "How are things holding up?"

"Fine," I said. "Just peachy."

"Good. Listen, I'm wrapping up here. I stopped by the jeweler."

My breath hitched. For a second, a stupid, pathetic part of me hoped.

"I got you a little something," he said. "A bonus. For handling Chloe so well. She told me how attentive you've been."

A bonus.

Like I was an employee of the month.

Like my grief was a transaction.

"You shouldn't have," I said, my voice dripping with ice.

"It's a bracelet," he said, oblivious. "Diamond. You'll love it. I'll be home in an hour. We can celebrate."

"Celebrate what, Ethan?"

"The shipment is safe. Chloe is happy. Life is good, Ava."

Life is good.

I looked at the toxicology report on my desk. I looked at the empty spot in my womb where a heart had stopped beating less than twenty-four hours ago.

"I'm not feeling well," I lied. "I'm going to bed early. Leave the... bonus... on the counter."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed, but not concerned. "Alright. Feel better. Chloe wants to go shopping tomorrow, maybe you can go with her?"

"Goodbye, Ethan."

I hung up before I screamed.

He didn't know. He didn't know about the baby, or the poison, or the fact that his perfect life was built on my corpse. And the worst part was, he didn't care enough to notice.

I walked to the mirror in the corner of the lab. My face was pale, my eyes dark circles of exhaustion. I looked like a ghost.

"Good," I whispered to my reflection. "Ghosts are scary."

I went back to the safe. I moved the separation agreement aside and pulled out a black ledger.

This was my insurance.

For ten years, I hadn't just been making drugs. I had been keeping records. Every illegal shipment, every bribe to a judge, every body buried in the Pine Barrens.

I knew where the bodies were because I had synthesized the chemicals to dissolve them.

This book could bring down the Reed empire in a week.

I ran my fingers over the leather cover. I had protected him with silence. I had protected him with my skills. I had protected him with my body.

Omertà. The code of silence.

I opened the book. The pages crinkled.

Ethan wanted a celebration? I would give him one. I would light the candles on his cake with the flames of his own destruction.

I touched my stomach one last time.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the baby I never held. "But Mommy has work to do."

Ava POV

The Hampton estate was a sprawling fortress of glass and light, perched on the edge of the Atlantic like a stolen crown jewel.

Tonight, however, it was infested. Filled with the sharks of the underworld.

The "Sit-down" was supposed to be a formality. A gathering of the Five Families to reaffirm alliances. But as I walked through the gilded doors, it felt like a funeral.

My funeral.

I stood next to Ethan, wearing a black velvet gown chosen specifically to hide the bruising on my arms from the IVs. I felt hollowed out, a shell of a woman held together by hairspray, sheer will, and hatred.

Ethan looked devastating in his tuxedo. He was charming the Don of the Moretti family, laughing as if he hadn't spent the last week ignoring my existence.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, leaning in to graze my cheek with his lips. It was a performance. We were on stage, and the audience was deadly.

He reached into his pocket. "I forgot to give you this earlier."

He pinned a brooch onto my dress. It was the Reed family crest, encrusted in sapphires. It was heavy, dragging down the delicate fabric like a shackle.

"Wear it with pride," he said, his voice low. "It shows you belong to me."

Not a ring. A brand. A tag on a piece of livestock.

Before I could answer, the music swelled. The crowd parted.

And there she was.

Chloe descended the grand staircase in a dress the color of fresh arterial blood. It was strapless, tight, and screamed for attention. She wasn't walking; she was prowling.

She carved a path straight to us. The chatter in the room died down to a suffocating hush.

"Ethan," she purred, sliding her arm through his, effectively pushing me aside physically and metaphorically.

Ethan didn't pull away. He looked at her with a mixture of lust and protectiveness that made my stomach turn.

Then, Chloe turned to the room, raising a glass of champagne high in the air.

"I have an announcement!" she chirped, her voice carrying over the silence. "Ethan and I have decided... we're getting married!"

The room exploded. Gasps, whispers, the clinking of glasses.

I froze. My legs felt like they were encased in concrete. The air left my lungs.

Ethan looked surprised for a fraction of a second. But then he looked at Chloe's beaming face, looked at the crowd waiting for his reaction... and he smiled.

A cold, calculated smile.

He squeezed her hand. He accepted it. He validated her lie and made it truth.

He didn't look at me. Not once.

I was standing three feet away, the woman who had saved his life, the woman who had just lost his child, and I was invisible.

The humiliation was a physical heat, burning up my neck. Everyone was looking at me now. The Capos, the wives, the rivals. They were looking at the Canary who had just been replaced by a vulture.

Ben Carter stepped forward from the crowd, his face twisted in worry. He reached for my arm. "Ava, let's go outside."

"No," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Chloe turned to me. Her eyes were bright with malice.

"Oh, Ava," she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "This must be so hard for you. But you understand, don't you? Family comes first."

She reached out and plucked the sapphire brooch from my dress.

The pin snagged, tearing the velvet.

"I'll take that," she said. "It's for the Lady of the house. And you... well, you're just the help, aren't you?"

She handed the brooch to a nearby guard, wrinkling her nose. "Clean it. It smells like chemicals."

That broke me.

The grief, the rage, the pain-it all snapped.

"You bitch!" I screamed.

I lunged at her. I didn't have a plan. I just wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me.

My fingers grazed her arm.

Then, a force like a freight train hit me.

Ethan shoved me.

He didn't just block me. He shoved me hard.

I flew backward. My heels slipped on the polished marble. I crashed into a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

Glass shattered. I hit the floor hard, my hip slamming against the stone. Shards of crystal sliced into my palms and my bare back.

"Ava!" Ben shouted, trying to rush to me.

But Ethan stood over me, his face twisted in a snarl I had never seen directed at me.

"Control yourself!" he roared. "You're embarrassing me!"

He looked at Chloe, checking her for injuries she didn't have. "Are you okay, my love?"

"She tried to kill me!" Chloe sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "She's crazy, Ethan! She's jealous and crazy!"

I lay on the floor, wet with champagne and my own blood. The pain in my hip was blinding, but the pain in my chest was worse.

He pushed me. To protect her.

Ethan looked down at me one last time. His eyes were cold. Empty.

"Get her out of here," he commanded the guards. "And don't let her back in until she sobers up."

He turned his back on me. He wrapped his arm around Chloe's waist and led her into the ballroom, leaving me amidst the broken glass.

Chloe looked back over her shoulder. She winked.

A pure, unadulterated wink.

You lose, her eyes said.

The music started up again. The crowd turned away, uncomfortable with the mess.

I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't work. I was shaking uncontrollably.

I looked at the blood on my hands. It mixed with the sparkling wine, creating a pale pink puddle.

My Omertà died on that floor.

I grabbed a jagged piece of glass, squeezing it until it cut into my palm, grounding me in the sharp reality of hate.

I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to beg.

I was going to make them pay. Every single one of them.