Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully. Marcus was younger than I’d initially thought when I hired him—maybe early thirties, with the kind of quiet competence that made you forget he was there until you needed him. But now, talking about military operations and hostage rescue, I was seeing a completely different person.
“Can you really get us out of this alive?” Damon asked.
“All of us,” Marcus said firmly. “Including Ava. But I need you both to trust me and follow my lead when we get in there.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why would you risk your life for us?”
“Because three years ago, you gave a former soldier with PTSD and no college degree a chance when no one else would. Because you’ve never treated me like I was disposable or stupid. And because…” He paused. “Because I’ve watched you blame yourself for losing Ava, and it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. But we can fix it.”
I felt tears threatening for the first time since this nightmare began. “Marcus—”
“We don’t have time for sentiment right now,” he said gently. “We have eight hours to plan a rescue mission. But I need to know—are you both in? All the way, no second-guessing, no heroic lone-wolf attempts?”
Damon and I looked at each other. Five years of hurt and anger and betrayal stood between us, but our daughter was in danger. Nothing else mattered.
“We’re in,” I said.
“Together,” Damon added.
“Good. Then let’s bring your little girl home.”
As Marcus started outlining tactical approaches and Damon pulled out his phone to call his construction contacts, I allowed myself one moment of hope.
Maybe we couldn’t save our marriage. Maybe we couldn’t undo the damage we’d done to each other and to Ava.
But maybe, just maybe, we could save her life.
And maybe that would be enough to start healing the wounds we’d all been carrying.
The Ritz Carlton Penthouse, Same Time
I was pretending to sleep when Aunt Bianca came back into the room, but my heart was beating so loud I was sure she could hear it.
“I know you’re awake, Ava,” she said softly.
I opened my eyes. She was standing by the window with her phone in one hand and a look on her face that made my stomach hurt.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, trying to sound sleepy and confused.
“You made a phone call.”
There was no point in lying. “I was scared.”
“Of me?”
I looked at her—really looked at her. This was the woman who had tucked me in every night for two years, who had made my favorite pancakes and helped me with homework and told me stories about princesses who were brave and strong.
But she was also the woman who wanted to kill my parents.
“I don’t understand why you want to hurt them,” I said quietly. “I thought you loved Daddy.”
“I did love your father. In my own way.” She sat down on the edge of the couch. “But sometimes love isn’t enough, sweetheart. Sometimes people take things from you that you can never get back.”
“What did my mom take from you?”
“Everything.” Her voice was bitter. “Our father’s love. The money that should have been mine. The life I deserved.”
“But she gave you Daddy and me. Doesn’t that count for something?”
Bianca’s face went soft for just a second, and I saw the woman who used to read me bedtime stories. “Oh, baby. You and your father were never really mine. You were just… borrowed. Until she decided she wanted you back.”
“But she didn’t decide that. You took me.”
“I saved you from a woman who abandoned you once and would do it again.”
“She didn’t abandon me,” I said, sitting up straighter. “You lied about that. Daddy sent her away.”
“Your father and I protected you—”
“You hurt me!” The words came out louder than I meant them to. “You made me forget my real mom. You made me think she didn’t love me. But she does love me, doesn’t she?”
Bianca stared at me for a long moment. “Yes,” she said finally. “She loves you very much. Too much.”
“Then why can’t we all just… be a family? You and Daddy and me and Mom?”
“Because your mother and I can’t both exist in the same world, sweetheart. One of us has to disappear.”
“But why does it have to be her? Why can’t it be you?”
The question hung in the air between us. For a second, I thought I saw her face crumble, like she was going to cry.
But then her phone rang, and the moment was gone.
“Go back to sleep, Ava,” she said, standing up. “Tomorrow is going to be a very big day.”
As she walked away to answer her phone, I closed my eyes and tried to remember my real mom’s voice.
“I love you, little star,” I whispered to myself.
And somewhere in the city, I hoped she was saying the same thing.
The End.
