AVA'S POV
I stood between Ethan and the woman who birthed me.
Between everything I'd been running from and everything I was fighting for.
My mother's face was pale now. The cold, unshakable composure she always wore like perfume had cracked. Not because of the gun in Ethan's hand, or the blood dripping down Marcus's temple.
But because I was standing here.
Alive.
Unafraid.
"You weren't supposed to come back," she whispered, almost to herself.
I tilted my head, slow. "That's your problem. You always built plans around who you thought I was, not who I am."
Marcus groaned from the floor, trying to sit up, his cheek already swelling. Ethan pressed his foot down on Marcus's chest without looking at him.
"You made me believe I was broken," I said, stepping closer to my mother. "Made me believe I was defective, emotional, unstable. You called it 'conditioning.' I called it hell."
Her eyes didn't flinch, but I saw the tension rise in her jaw.
