AVA'S POV
The silence in my father's private chamber was broken only by the distant howl of the sea. The island estate, once a fortress of calculated control, now trembled with cracks neither he nor Marcus could patch.
"She's gone," the guard's voice quivered from the hallway.
Lawrence Monroe's hand froze mid-air, his tumbler of aged scotch trembling between his fingers. "What did you say?" he asked, voice eerily calm.
"Escaped. With Ethan Kingsley."
A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. He downed the scotch in one swallow and slammed the glass onto the mahogany desk.
"So," he whispered, almost to himself. "She's finally learning to play the game."
He turned toward the bay window, watching the dark waves crash against the cliffs below. The island had always been symbolic, his domain, his rule, his design. Ava's return had been the final act in his strategy. But this? Her escape with Ethan?
Unexpected.
And yet...
