Ava POV:

The guards dragged me down the sterile hospital corridor, my head throbbing, a thin stream of blood trickling down my temple. My father. They had left him there, a silent, damning testament to their cruelty. My legs felt like lead, my body a dead weight, but I fought them, every ounce of my remaining strength fueled by a desperate, burning need to get back to him.

"Chris!" I screamed, my voice raw and hoarse, echoing uselessly in the empty hallway. "Please! Don't do this! He's my father!"

He stood at the end of the corridor, near the elevators, with Kimberli clinging to his arm. He turned, his gaze falling on my bloodied face. A flicker of something – concern? surprise? – crossed his features. He took a step forward, his hand subconsciously reaching out.

"Don't touch me," I spat, recoiling from his gesture, the mere thought of his touch making my skin crawl. "Don't you dare touch me, you murderer."

His hand dropped, and the fleeting spark of emotion vanished, replaced by the familiar, chilling mask. "Ava, you're being hysterical. Look at you. You're bleeding."

"I'm bleeding because of you!" I shrieked, no longer caring who heard. "My father is dead because of you! Because of your precious Kimberli! How can you stand there, so calm, after what you've done?" Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the blood.

He sighed, a sound of profound weariness, as if I were merely an inconvenient child. "Your father's passing was regrettable, Ava. But it was a complication of a pre-existing condition, exacerbated by your refusal to sign the waiver. Kimberli did her best." He spoke with such practiced ease, such calculated detachment, it was sickening.

"Complication?" I choked out a laugh, a harsh, broken sound. "She sabotaged him! And you stood by and watched! You even helped! And now you're worried about her 'unfortunate incident'?" I pointed a trembling finger at Kimberli, who was now hiding her face in Chris's shoulder. "She's a doctor! A doctor who deliberately harmed a patient! How can you defend that?"

Chris' s eyes narrowed, his gaze hardening. "Kimberli is under immense stress. You attacked her. She's fragile, Ava. Unlike you, she feels things deeply."

The words were like a physical blow, designed to cut, to wound. "She feels things deeply?" I echoed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "She's a sociopath! A medical professional who uses her skills to torture and kill! There's nothing fragile about that, Chris. That's pure evil."

His face flushed with color, a rare crack in his composure. His eyes blazed with a cold fury. "Don't you dare speak about Kimberli like that!" He took a step towards me, his hand reaching for my throat. The guards tightened their grip, holding me back. "She means more to me than you ever did, Ava. You'll regret those words."

"I regret loving you!" I screamed, my voice breaking. "I regret every single second I wasted on you!" I struggled against the guards, desperate to break free, to run back to my father. "Let me go! I need to go back to him!"

Chris turned to the guards, his voice low and menacing. "She's clearly unstable. Take her to room 3B in the isolation wing. Sedate her if necessary. And ensure she doesn't leave until further notice."

The words hit me like a physical punch. Isolation. Sedate. He was locking me away, just like before. My head reeled. "No! Chris, please! My father! I need to be with my father!" I begged, tears streaming down my face, my voice choked with raw despair.

He watched me, his face impassive, as the guards tightened their hold, forcing me down the corridor. My head throbbed, the blood from my wound was drying on my skin. I could feel the cold, sterile air on my skin, the overwhelming sense of dread.

"Consider this a necessary measure for your own good, Ava," he called after me, his voice distantly cold. "It's for your protection. And for Kimberli's."

My vision blurred. "You demon! You'll pay for this! You'll pay for everything!" I cursed him, my voice cracking, as they dragged me into a dark, confined space. The door slammed shut, plunging me into darkness. The last thing I heard was the click of a lock, and Chris's words echoing in my mind. Then, the piercing pain in my head became too much, and the darkness consumed me.

Ava POV:

I woke to the insistent, rhythmic beeping of an IV pump and the smell of stale air. My head throbbed, a dull, persistent ache behind my eyes. I was in a different room than before, smaller, with no windows. The walls were padded, a horrifying realization dawning on me. They had moved me to psychiatric observation.

A nurse stood talking to an orderly just outside my door, their voices muffled but clear enough to hear snippets.

"They just cleaned out her father's room," the orderly said. "Poor man. Went so fast."

"Yeah," the nurse replied, her voice tinged with pity. "Dr. Luna signed the death certificate. Acute cardiac arrest. Just hours after his surgery. Tragic."

My breath hitched. Acute cardiac arrest. A lie. Another cover-up. They had killed him. They had truly killed him. And Kimberli, the monster, signed his death certificate.

"And they removed all his personal effects too," the orderly continued. "Just like the husband wanted. Said he didn't want any 'sentimental clutter' around."

My father's things. His watch, his old leather-bound books, the small drawing I gave him as a child. All of it gone. Erased. Chris. He was systematically wiping my father from existence.

"And that poor Mrs. Blevins," the nurse added, her voice dropping. "Heard she went ballistic. Tried to attack Dr. Luna. Completely unhinged, they say."

Unstable. Unhinged. The narrative was already set. I was the crazy wife, mourning her father, who had lashed out at the kind, innocent doctor. My blood boiled.

A guard entered my room, carrying a tray of bland food. His eyes were cold, indifferent. "Eat up," he grunted, placing the tray on a small table. "The doctor will be in to see you later."

"My father," I whispered, my voice cracked and dry. "Is he... is he really gone?"

The guard paused, a flicker of something in his eyes – discomfort, perhaps? He shifted his weight. "He passed away last night. Acute cardiac arrest." He recited the official line, then quickly left, unable to meet my gaze.

He was gone. My father. My gentle, kind father who had always believed in me, always supported me, always loved me unconditionally. He was a victim of their cruelty, a pawn in their sadistic game. Every memory of him flashed through my mind: his booming laugh, the way he'd ruffle my hair, his steady hand guiding me, his wisdom comforting me.

"Ava, my dear," he'd said to me just months ago, his eyes twinkling, "you have a good heart. Don't let anyone dim your light. And sometimes, even the brightest light can be too brilliant for others to appreciate. Don't let their blindness make you doubt your own shine." He had warned me. He had seen Chris for what he was, beneath the charming facade. But I, blinded by love, had dismissed his subtle warnings as overprotective fatherly concerns. My foolishness had cost him his life.

A choked sob escaped my lips, then another, until I was wracked with earth-shattering grief. Tears streamed down my face, hot and endless, carving paths through the dried blood on my temple. My body shook with the force of it, a raw, primal scream trapped in my chest. I buried my face in my hands, wishing I could disappear, wishing I could undo everything. The pain was unbearable, a gaping wound in my soul.

Days blurred into a haze of sorrow and forced sedatives. Then, one morning, the door opened, and I was told I could leave. They handed me a small plastic bag with the few belongings I had on me. My phone was gone. My wedding ring was gone from my finger. It was as if I had never existed.

I walked out of the hospital, blinking in the harsh sunlight, a ghost of my former self. My body was weak, but my resolve was solid as steel. My father would have his justice. I would ensure it.

The first thing I did was arrange for my father's cremation, a quiet, somber affair. No Chris. No Kimberli. Just me, saying goodbye to the only true love I had ever known. Then, I went to my home with Chris, or rather, what used to be our home.

It was empty. Stripped bare. All my personal belongings were gone. My clothes, my books, my photographs. Even the small trinkets I had collected over the years. Nothing remained. The only thing left was an empty shell of a house, and an eerie silence that screamed of erasure.

I pulled out my old laptop from a hidden emergency box and connected to the internet. The first thing I saw was Chris's Instagram. A recent post: a picture of him and Kimberli, sun-kissed and smiling, on a yacht in the Mediterranean. "Finally, true happiness," the caption read. My wedding ring was prominently displayed on Kimberli's finger.

My blood ran cold. He had annulled our marriage. And married Kimberli. How long? How brazen? How could I have been so blind? My heart, already shattered, splintered into a million more pieces. But this time, there was no pain, only a chilling void. My love for Chris Bell was not just dead; it had never existed. It was a cruel illusion, a nightmare from which I had finally awakened.

A cold, calculated plan began to form in my mind, precise and deadly. He thought he had taken everything. He thought I was broken. He was wrong. He had only forged me into a weapon, sharpened by grief and betrayal. I had built Bell Dynamics with him. I knew its every secret, every weakness. And I held the key to its destruction, thanks to my father's foresight. Our prenuptial agreement.

I walked to my father's old study, a room Chris rarely entered. Behind a loose panel in the bookshelf, I found the heavy, leather-bound folder. The prenup. It stipulated that in the event of a divorce, and under certain conditions, I retained a significant portion of Bell Dynamics shares. Shares I had contributed directly through my family' s initial investment.

With trembling hands, I retrieved the document. It was old, predating Chris's success, a relic from a time when he was just a struggling entrepreneur and I, a foolish woman in love. But it was my lifeline. My weapon.

I would divorce him. He thought he had annulled it? We would see. I would make sure he paid for every single tear, every single lie, every single breath my father fought for. My revenge would be a symphony of destruction, a meticulous unraveling of his empire, piece by agonizing piece. He wanted to wipe me out? I would wipe him out first.

Ava POV:

The divorce papers, or rather, the annulment certificate, stared up at me from the lawyer's desk, blurring through my unshed tears. Chris had annulled our seven-year marriage. Seven years, legally erased as if it never happened. My father's foresight, the prenuptial agreement, was the only tether to the reality of my sacrifice, my existence within Chris's world.

"He claims the marriage was never consummated," the lawyer explained, his voice detached. "That he was defrauded into marriage. It's a textbook annulment. And he's already married Dr. Kimberli Luna."

The words echoed in my head, a mocking refrain. Not just annulled, but remarried. While I was grieving, while I was locked away, while my father's memory was being erased. The depth of his depravity was boundless. It was worse than I could have imagined. I had poured my heart, my soul, my family's legacy into him. And he had taken it all, then discarded me, not even bothering with a divorce. He had simply pretended I never existed, replacing me with his true obsession.

A cold fury simmered beneath my skin, making my hands tremble uncontrollably. My jaw clenched so tight it ached. This wasn't just about betrayal anymore. This was about absolute dehumanization. I was nothing but trash to be thrown out, swept under the rug. But trash, I realized, could ignite.

I walked back to the mansion, the place that had once been my home, now a monument to their deceit. The gates swung open, a silent welcome to my humiliation. I saw it immediately: a new Mercedes parked in the driveway, a vibrant red, starkly out of place. Kimberli's taste.

As I entered the sprawling living room, I heard their laughter. Chris's deep chuckle, Kimberli's high, tinkling giggle. They were there, on my sofa, bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace. Kimberli was perched on Chris' s lap, her head thrown back, her perfectly coiffed hair a stark contrast to my disheveled appearance. Her hand, adorned with my wedding ring, was resting on his cheek. They looked like a picture of domestic bliss, a grotesque parody of the life I had once envisioned.

I walked past them, my steps slow and deliberate, my gaze fixed on nothing in particular. My heart was a frozen stone in my chest. I felt nothing but a hollow emptiness, a terrifying calm.

"Ava?" Chris's voice, surprised, cut through the silence. "What are you doing here?" He gently pushed Kimberli off his lap, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "I thought you'd be... somewhere else."

I stopped, but didn't turn around. "Somewhere else? Like where, Chris? A padded cell? A grave?" My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, a stark contrast to the burning inferno within me.

"Don't be dramatic," he said, standing up. "You know you brought this upon yourself. Your stubbornness, your refusal to cooperate..."

I finally turned, my eyes, devoid of tears, meeting his. "My father is dead, Chris. Because of you. Because of your 'precious Kimberli.' Do you know that?"

Kimberli gasped dramatically, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. "Oh, Chris, darling, her poor father. It's so sad." Her eyes, however, sparkled with something akin to triumph. "But, Ava, you really shouldn't blame Chris for this. He tried everything. He really did."

"Oh, he tried everything, did he?" I asked, my voice laced with a bitter sarcasm. "Like ordering the removal of his life support? Or like marrying you the moment he had him out of the way?"

Kimberli's facade faltered for a second, her eyes widening. She shot Chris a panicked look. "Chris, darling, she's distressed. She doesn't know what she's saying." She turned back to me, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Ava, I know this is hard for you. But your father... he had a weak heart. It was inevitable."

"Inevitable?" I echoed, my voice shaking with suppressed rage. "He was perfectly healthy before your 'surgery,' you monster!"

Chris stepped forward, placing a hand on Kimberli's shoulder. "Ava, stop it. You're upsetting Kimberli." He looked at me, his eyes cold and hard. "Your father's death is on you. If you had just signed the waiver, he might have had a chance. But you were too selfish."

My breath caught in my throat. Selfish. He was blaming me. For my father's murder. The audacity, the sheer, unadulterated evil of it all, left me speechless. I stared at him, at the man I had once loved, and felt nothing but a profound, sickening disgust. Everything was a lie. They were both caricatures of humanity, devoid of any empathy or conscience.

Chris' s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "Excuse me, darling. Business call. I'll be right back." He kissed Kimberli's forehead, then walked out of the room, leaving me alone with his new wife.

The moment he was gone, Kimberli's demeanor shifted. The innocent, fragile act vanished, replaced by a triumphant sneer. She pulled a small, delicate gold locket from her pocket. My locket. The one my father had given me on my eighteenth birthday, with his picture inside. "Looking for this, Ava?" she purred, dangling it before my eyes. "Chris said it was 'sentimental clutter.' I thought it would make a lovely addition to my collection."

My blood ran cold. That locket. My most treasured possession, a piece of my father. "Give that back!" I snarled, lunging for it.

She laughed, pulling it out of my reach. "Oh, but it's mine now, Ava. Just like everything else. This house, Chris... even your little embryo."

My blood ran cold. "My... my embryo?" The words barely escaped my lips.

She tilted her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Yes, darling. The one you 'lost.' It was our embryo, Ava. Chris and mine. You were merely the vessel. A very expensive, very expendible vessel." She laughed again, a high, mocking sound. "And now that you're out of the picture, we can try again, properly this time. Without your inconvenient 'stress' getting in the way."

A wave of nausea washed over me, colder and more profound than anything I had ever experienced. The baby I had grieved for, the child I imagined holding, had been theirs. A surrogate pregnancy, without my knowledge, without my consent. My body, used and discarded. My grief, mocked. My very being, violated.

"You're a monster!" I screamed, tears finally blurring my vision. I lunged at her, no longer caring about anything but tearing that locket, that truth, from her grasp.

She sidestepped, her movements surprisingly agile. My hand missed her, and I stumbled, falling to my knees. She kicked me, a sharp, precise blow to my side. "Stay down, bitch," she hissed, her voice devoid of any pretense of fragility. "You're nothing. You never were."

Chris walked back into the room at that exact moment, his eyes immediately falling on Kimberli, who was dramatically clutching her side, a tearful sniffle escaping her lips. "Oh, Chris! She attacked me again! She's completely unhinged!" She pointed at me, still on the floor, my hand pressed to my aching side.

Chris' s face contorted with a terrifying rage. He didn't even look at me. His entire focus was on Kimberli. "Ava!" he roared, his voice shaking the foundations of the house. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He rushed to Kimberli's side, pulling her into a protective embrace. "Are you hurt, my love?"

"She tried to steal this!" Kimberli wailed, holding up the locket. "My beautiful locket! She's just jealous, Chris!"

Chris looked at the locket, then at me. His eyes were cold, filled with disdain. "It's hers now, Ava. You forfeited everything. Including your sanity."

"It was my father's!" I screamed, my voice raw with pain and fury. "He gave it to me! You stole it!"

"It belongs to Kimberli now," Chris said, his voice flat. "Everything does. You have nothing left, Ava."

Kimberli sniffled, then looked up at Chris with wide, innocent eyes. "Chris, darling, maybe I should just go. I don't want to cause any more trouble between you two." She made a move to leave.