Chapter 2

Abby stared up at Ethan, her mind reeling.

Isabelle' s personal assistant?

The humiliation burned through her.

Ethan' s lips curled into a smirk.

"What' s wrong, Abby? Not to your liking? I thought the Vances were all about service."

He was enjoying this, watching her break.

For her grandfather. For Ellie.

"I' ll do it," Abby said, her voice barely a whisper. "I' ll be her assistant. Just... spare the charity."

Ethan' s eyes, however, had already lost interest.

He turned to Isabelle, his arm sliding around her waist.

"Actually, darling, I think we' ve had enough drama for one night. Let' s dance."

He led Isabelle away, leaving Abby kneeling on the cold floor, her sacrifice dismissed, her plea ignored.

The crowd parted for them, whispers following in their wake.

The strain, the public degradation, it was too much.

A sharp pain shot through Abby' s chest.

She gasped, clutching at her heart.

Her vision blurred.

The glittering ballroom spun around her.

She swayed, then collapsed, the world going dark.

When she woke, she was in a small, sterile room off the main hall.

Dr. Chen, her oncologist, was beside her.

His face was grim.

"Abby, you can' t keep pushing yourself like this. Your white blood cell count is dangerously low."

"How long, David?" she asked, her voice weak.

He hesitated. "The new treatment... it' s not working as we hoped. A few months. Maybe less, if you don' t rest."

A strange sense of calm washed over Abby.

"If I die," she said, her voice clear. "If I die soon... Ethan might stop. He might leave my family alone. My death could be their salvation."

Dr. Chen looked horrified.

"Abby! Don' t talk like that. Life is precious. We' re not giving up."

He stood abruptly. "I have to get back to my other patients. But you need to go home. Now."

He left, his disapproval hanging in the air.

Abby managed to get a car home.

The Blackwood mansion was silent, empty.

Ethan and Isabelle were likely still at the gala, or perhaps somewhere more private.

She found a note on her pillow. Ethan' s sharp, impersonal script.

"Isabelle has a headache. The sound of your coughing from the guest wing is disturbing her. Keep your windows closed."

Her coughing.

He didn' t care that she was ill, only that her suffering inconvenienced Isabelle.

A wave of profound resignation washed over her.

He truly felt nothing for her. Nothing but contempt.

The next morning, Abby went to see Ellie.

She found her sister in the kitchen, a tense silence hanging in the air.

Gregory Thompson, Ellie' s husband, was there.

He was pacing, his face flushed.

"It' s your family' s fault!" he yelled, not at Ellie, but as if addressing the room. "The Vances are cursed! Dragging me down with them!"

He saw Abby. "You! Your husband is ruining me!"

"Gregory, please," Ellie said, her voice trembling. "Abby isn' t well."

"She' s never well!" he sneered. He grabbed Ellie' s arm, his fingers digging in. "And you, you' re useless!"

"Let her go, Gregory," Abby said, her voice low but firm.

He laughed. "Or what? You' ll tell your powerful husband?"

He shoved Ellie hard. Ellie cried out, stumbling against the counter.

Abby rushed to her sister' s side.

"Get out, Gregory," Abby said, shielding Ellie.

He glared at them, then stormed out, slamming the door.

Ellie was pale, her hand pressed to her stomach.

"I' m okay," she whispered, but her eyes were wide with fear. She looked so tired, so worn down by his abuse.

Abby held her, a cold dread settling in her heart.

Later that week, the annual Vance Foundation board meeting was scheduled.

The hostile takeover by Blackwood Industries was imminent.

Abby knew Ethan wouldn' t listen to private pleas.

She had to force his hand.

She walked into the Blackwood Industries boardroom during a press conference Ethan was holding.

Cameras flashed. Reporters scribbled.

Ethan was at the podium, speaking about corporate responsibility.

The irony was sickening.

Abby walked to the front, her heart pounding.

She knelt again, this time before the entire press corps.

"Mr. Blackwood," she said, her voice clear and steady, though it cost her everything. "You offered me a position as Ms. Moreau' s personal assistant. I accept. I will serve her in any way she wishes. In return, I ask only that you honor your previous... implication. That you would spare the Vance Foundation."

A stunned silence fell over the room.

Ethan' s face was a mask of fury.