Ava exhaled a heavy, tired breath, the sterile scent of antiseptic still clinging to her clothes as she stepped out of the hospital's tall glass doors.
The chill of the evening air kissed her cheeks, a stark contrast to the oppressive warmth of the hospital ward she had been confined to for two long days.
She clutched the strap of her bag a little tighter and made her way toward the car park, the comforting thought of home nudging her weary limbs forward.
Her lips parted in relief as she spotted the familiar black SUV parked in its usual spot—her ride to safety, to familiarity, to peace.
But as her steps brought her closer, something blinked out of existence. The vehicle. It was gone.
Ava stopped in her tracks, her brows knitting into a frown. Her eyes scanned the lot, hoping it was simply parked somewhere else—but her gut twisted with a dreadful certainty.
She already knew who was responsible for this cruel vanishing act.
Lucas Freeman. Her manager. Her boyfriend. Or, at least, the man she thought was both.
With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and quickly dialed his number.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
But the line was dead. Each attempt ended in the same empty silence. Her calls couldn't get through.
Panic threatened to choke her, but she swallowed it down. Standing idle wouldn't solve anything, and the hospital was the last place she wanted to linger.
Desperate, she flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address to what was supposed to be her shared apartment with Lucas—her temporary sanctuary.
The ride felt longer than it was, every second dragging like an eternity. By the time they pulled up, dusk had cast shadows along the quiet street.
She climbed out, dug deep into her coat pocket for the code, and punched it into the door panel. Nothing. She tried again. And again. Still nothing. The keypad blinked red.
"What the hell…" she muttered, confused, frustrated, her fingers trembling as she punched the code in one last time.
"Miss? Are you trying to get in?" a voice came from behind.
Ava turned to see a middle-aged woman standing a few feet away, holding a grocery bag, her expression cautious.
"I live here," Ava said, her voice tight.
"I don't think so," the woman replied, tilting her head. "The man who rented that apartment moved out a few days ago. Said he was relocating overseas."
Ava blinked, the words slamming into her like a wave of ice water. "What…?" she whispered.
The woman nodded sympathetically. "He cleared out everything. Took a moving truck and left. Said nothing about anyone else staying there."
For a moment, Ava just stood there, her mind racing, trying to catch up.
She had been in the hospital for two days. Just two days. And in that short time, Lucas had packed up everything, vanished without a trace… and left her behind.
Her phone buzzed.
With a shaky breath, she lowered her gaze. A new message notification blinked on her screen. It was from Lucas.
I DECIDED TO TAKE MY OWN PATH, SO I SOLD EVERYTHING I OWNED. MAYBE I USED SOME OF YOUR STUFF TOO—SORRY ABOUT THAT. I'M LEAVING THE COUNTRY TO START A NEW LIFE. I HOPE YOU CAN DO THE SAME, AVA. TAKE CARE.
Her heart sank.
The screen blurred as tears filled her eyes, her vision swimming with disbelief. Each word cut deeper than the last. He hadn't just abandoned her—he had stolen from her.
Erased her. Made her homeless with a single text.
She let out a guttural scream, raw and filled with pain, uncaring of the stares from neighbors peeking from their windows or passersby who slowed to watch.
She turned and slammed her fists against the locked door, over and over, hoping, praying that something—anything—would change.
It didn't.
Security arrived minutes later. After a brief, tense exchange, she was escorted off the estate like a trespasser.
Now, with nothing but the hospital bag slung over her shoulder, Ava wandered down the cold, unfamiliar streets.
Her coat clung damply to her back from the drizzle that had started to fall. She hadn't eaten since morning, and now hunger twisted cruelly in her stomach.
Lucas had taken nearly all the money they shared. What was left had gone to her hospital bills. Her so-called friends were either unreachable or suddenly too "busy" to offer a place to crash. She was utterly alone.
She cursed Lucas under her breath. Not just a liar. Not just a thief. But a coward.
Tears stung her eyes again, but she blinked them away. She couldn't cry now. Couldn't afford to fall apart. She wasn't going to let this be the end of her story.
Then came the downpour.
The sky opened up and rain lashed down, soaking her to the bone. She dashed under a street awning, teeth chattering, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Cold, hungry and lost.
And just when she thought it couldn't get any worse—she felt it.
A hand clamped over her nose.
A faint, sharp smell filled her nostrils. A handkerchief.
Panic surged through her, and she tried to scream, to fight—but her limbs felt leaden. Her vision darkened.
The last thing she saw was the blur of the stranger's face before the world tilted and she sank into unconsciousness.
*
With a low, guttural growl, Ava's eyes snapped open as cold water splashed harshly against her face.
She gasped, blinking rapidly, her heart thudding violently against her ribs as she struggled to register her surroundings.
Her vision adjusted slowly to the dim, flickering light overhead. The air smelled of rust, damp concrete, and something sharp—leatherwood, maybe.
Her arms jerked, but the biting restraint of thick rope burned against her skin. She was tied to a chair.
Panic bloomed in her chest.
She had been kidnapped.
"What the actual hell—" she rasped, her throat dry and sore.
"Listen! Whoever you are, I think you've made a huge mistake!" she shouted into the darkness, voice laced with both fear and fury. "I don't have anything—I'm flat broke. Homeless, thanks to my idiot ex-boyfriend who's probably halfway to rotting in hell by now. You've got the wrong girl. Please, just let me go!"
Her voice echoed against the cold walls, bouncing around a space that felt like an abandoned basement or storage room.
Shadows danced around the edges of the weak bulb above her. She could barely make out the silhouette of a man leaning against the far wall.
A deep, steady voice sliced through the silence. "Sounds like he did a number on you."
Ava stiffened, startled.
The voice was smooth but held an undercurrent of iron. Her nostrils flared as the scent of leatherwood intensified. He stepped forward into the half-light, revealing his presence.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Standing before her was a tall man in an immaculately tailored coat, his hands buried in his pockets, his expression unreadable. His aura screamed power, wealth, and danger.
She blinked.
"L-Liam Carter?" she stammered, eyes widening in disbelief. "The Liam Carter?"
The billionaire tycoon. Owner of the biggest entertainment conglomerate in the city. The kind of man people whispered about in elite circles, both feared and respected.
Ava almost felt flattered—almost. Until the crushing reality of her situation snapped her back to earth.
Oh God. What if Lucas owed him money? What if she was just a pawn—collateral damage in whatever hell her ex had dragged her into?
Liam gave a faint smirk. "Well, it seems introductions aren't necessary."
She swallowed hard. "Mr. Carter, listen. I swear, whatever Lucas has done—whatever he took—I had no part in it. I lost everything too. My apartment, my savings, even my clothes. I'm not worth anything right now. You won't get a dime out of me."
"I'm not looking for your money," Liam replied coolly, stepping closer.
"Then what do you want?" she asked, her voice shaking despite herself.
He paused beside a small metal table, his eyes dark with calculation. "Your ex-boyfriend left you. Because of another woman."
Ava flinched. Even though she suspected as much, hearing it from a stranger—especially him—stung in a way she wasn't prepared for.
"He didn't just leave," she muttered bitterly. "He erased me."
Liam studied her for a long moment. Then he said, "You're a model. New to the industry. Struggling, from what I hear."
Ava narrowed her eyes. "So?"
"I want to offer you a deal." His tone shifted—firm, businesslike. "In exchange for your cooperation, I'll make sure you walk away from this month not just with your dignity—but with six billion dollars."
Ava's breath caught.
Six. Billion?
"I want you to get close to someone for me," he continued, as if he hadn't just dropped a financial nuke in her lap. "Ethan Torres."
At the sound of that name, her heart faltered.
Ethan Torres.
A name she hadn't heard in years. A ghost from her past that carried too much weight.
She shook her head instinctively. "No. Not him. Anyone but him."
But Liam didn't flinch. He leaned in slightly, his tone sharper now. "You're to make him your husband. In one month. That's the deal."
She stared at him, stunned into silence.
"I'll pay you thirteen thousand every week you give me useful information about him," he added casually. "And if you succeed—if you get that ring on your finger by the end of the month—you get the full six billion."
The room felt suddenly smaller. The air thick.
It was insane. Unthinkable. Manipulative.
But also… her only way out.
Ava clenched her jaw. Her pride screamed at her not to do it—but her reality, her hunger, her desperation—they all drowned that voice out.
She straightened her shoulders as much as the ropes would allow, locked eyes with the billionaire in front of her, and took a deep breath.
"Well then," she said, lips curling into a tired, dangerous smile. "I'll do it."