Part 10
The morning sun broke over the city, casting long, golden shadows across the floor of the penthouse apartment.
Ava sat by the window, a warm cup of herbal tea held tightly in both hands.
The tremors were gone.
Her skin looked healthy, the faint purple bruises on her jaw already beginning to fade under the care of the private medical staff Daniel had hired.
She watched the news on the wall-mounted television screen, the volume turned down low.
The headline across the bottom of the screen read: “Vance Global Matriarch Arrested on Federal Fraud and Conspiracy Charges.”
The footage showed Margaret being led out of the corporate headquarters in the early hours of the morning, her face covered by a silk scarf, surrounded by federal agents and flashing camera bulbs.
The empire she had sacrificed her soul to protect had chewed her up and spit her out in less than twenty-four hours.
The door to the penthouse opened softly.
Daniel stepped inside, looking exhausted, his tie gone, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
But when his eyes found Ava sitting by the window, the fatigue vanished from his face, replaced by a deep, profound peace.
He walked over to her, dropping to his knees beside her chair, and buried his face in her lap.
Ava smiled softly, running her fingers through his dark hair.
“It’s over, isn't it?” she whispered.
“It’s over,” Daniel said, his voice muffled against her dress.
“The lawyers have secured a permanent restraining order. The board has completely severed ties with her. She’s being held without bail because of the flight risk. She will never step foot near you, this house, or our lives ever again.”
He lifted his head, looking up at her with eyes filled with a fierce devotion.
“We are selling the mansion, Ava. We’re selling everything that has her name on it. We’re going to build a place that belongs only to us. No secrets. No shadows.”
Ava looked down at her legs, testing the muscles.
She could feel them now.
The heavy, dead weight that had trapped her for months was dissolving, replaced by a warm, tingling sensation of returning strength.
“Daniel,” she said, her voice filled with a quiet determination.
“Help me stand.”
Daniel blinked, surprised.
“Ava, the doctor said it might take weeks of physical therapy—”
“Help me stand,” she repeated, her eyes locked onto his.
Daniel stood up slowly, reaching out his hands.
Ava gripped them, her knuckles turning white as she channeled every ounce of willpower she had left into her legs.
She pushed herself forward, out of the wheelchair that had been her prison.
Her knees shook violently.
Her ankles wobbled.
For one terrifying second, her body threatened to fail her, to send her crashing back down to the floor.
But Daniel caught her waist, holding her steady, his strength becoming her strength.
Ava took a deep breath, planting her feet firmly onto the hardwood floor.
She stood straight.
She looked out the window at the vast, open horizon of the city, no longer looking down from the floor, no longer hiding behind a curtain of hair.
She was standing on her own two feet.
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“I’m here,” Ava whispered, a beautiful, triumphant smile breaking across her face.
“And I’m not going anywhere.”
