Chapter 1

For five years, my life was Liam Vance.

I, Ava Green, a promising architect, gave everything to help him build his tech empire from the ground up. I drew blueprints for his office buildings, designed his minimalist mansions, and even sketched the user interface for his first successful app on a napkin.

Our relationship felt like one of my buildings: solid, well-designed, and built to last.

Then he brought Chloe Davis home.

She was an aspiring influencer, all wide eyes and soft smiles. Liam was instantly obsessed with what he called her "purity."

My world started to crack.

"You' re too ambitious, Ava," he' d say, his voice cool even as his hand rested on my shoulder. "Too driven. You' re like a shark."

He would look over at Chloe, who was arranging flowers in a vase, and his eyes would soften. "Why can' t you be more like her? Sweet. Compliant."

The words were a constant, low hum of criticism that slowly eroded my confidence.

"I' ll marry you, Ava," he promised once, holding my chin so I had to look at him. "I will. Just as soon as you learn to be as sweet and compliant as Chloe."

He started showering Chloe with affection in front of me. He bought her cars, jewelry, and designer clothes. He let his staff, the very people I had hired and trained, call her "Mrs. Vance."

I never cried in front of them.

Instead, I had my own ritual.

In my studio, I kept a collection of ninety-nine architectural models. Liam had them custom-made for me over the years. Each one was a miniature version of a project we had dreamed of, a house, a library, a skyscraper. Each one was a promise of a future together.

They were beautiful, intricate, and now, they were a painful reminder of a lie.

The first time Liam truly broke a piece of me, I went home and took the first model, a tiny beach house with a wraparound porch. I drove to the bridge overlooking the city river and, without a word, let it fall into the dark water below.

That day, Chloe had complained of a stomachache at a dinner party.

"Her stomach is sensitive," Liam announced to our guests. He turned to me, his expression unreadable. "Ava, feed her. She' s too weak to lift a spoon."

I froze. The room was silent.

"Liam, don' t be ridiculous," I said, my voice low.

His eyes hardened. "Kneel," he commanded, his voice a whip crack in the suddenly tense air. "Kneel and feed her."

Chloe looked up at me, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. I saw our guests shift uncomfortably. My pride screamed at me to walk away, but Liam' s gaze was a physical force, pinning me in place. I knelt. I spoon-fed Chloe soup like she was a child, my hand trembling with a mixture of rage and humiliation.

That was the first model.

The second one followed a week later. I was on the verge of landing the biggest project of my career, a new city art museum. The final presentation was due at 5 PM. At noon, Chloe came into my home office.

"Oh, Ava, I' m so clumsy!" she cried, "accidentally" spilling a large cup of black coffee all over my final blueprints and my laptop.

I stared at the ruin of my work, my heart sinking.

Before I could even react, Liam stormed in. He didn't ask what happened. He saw Chloe' s tear-streaked face and the mess, and he grabbed my arm.

"You did this on purpose," he hissed. "You can' t stand that I care for someone else."

"Liam, no, it was an accident, she..."

He didn' t listen. He dragged me out of the office and down to the basement, shoving me into the server room. The air was frigid, the hum of the machines deafening.

"You' ll stay here and think about what you' ve done," he said, his voice echoing in the small space. "Maybe a day in here will cool that ambitious head of yours."

The heavy door clicked shut, and the lock turned. I was trapped. I pounded on the door until my fists were raw, screaming his name. I missed my deadline. I lost the project.

When he finally let me out twenty-four hours later, I didn' t say a word. I just went to my studio, took the second model, a miniature of the very museum I had lost, and threw it into the river.

The humiliations became a brutal routine. Each act of cruelty from him, each feigned innocence from her, was another model sinking into the murky depths.

Ninety-five models were gone. Only four remained on my shelf.

The ninety-sixth was for Ethan.

My younger brother, Ethan, was my world. He was brilliant, a tech prodigy attending a prestigious academy on a full scholarship. A scholarship funded entirely by Liam Vance.

It was the one chain I couldn' t break.

One afternoon, Chloe announced she wanted to learn self-defense. "Liam, honey, what about those cool drones you have? The ones that can shoot things? I want to practice."

Liam smiled, indulging her. "A wonderful idea."

He then turned to me. "Ava, you can help. You'll be the target."

I stared at him, horrified. "Are you insane? She' s never flown a drone in her life, let alone one that shoots projectiles. She could seriously hurt me."

Liam' s smile became a chilling, cruel line. "That' s the point, isn' t it? A little pain might teach you some humility." He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper. "Or perhaps Ethan would be interested to learn his scholarship has been revoked. Effective immediately."

My blood ran cold. He knew. He knew Ethan was my only weakness.

I had no choice.

They took me to the expansive lawn behind the house. Liam set up the drone, handing the controls to a giddy Chloe. The projectiles were non-lethal, hard rubber pellets, but at high velocity, they could break bones.

"Just try to hit her limbs, sweetie," Liam coached Chloe, as if they were playing a garden game. "Don' t damage that pretty face."

I stood there, a human target, my body rigid with fear. Chloe, no longer pretending to be innocent, had a predatory gleam in her eyes. The drone whirred to life, and she didn't hesitate.

The first pellet hit my arm with a sickening thud. The pain was sharp, electric. I cried out and staggered back.

"Good shot!" Liam cheered. "Keep going!"

Chloe laughed, a high, piercing sound. She aimed again. A pellet slammed into my thigh, another into my shoulder. She was intentionally aiming for me, her inexperience causing her to miss vital organs by mere inches, but her malice ensuring every shot connected with flesh. Pain exploded across my body with each impact.

I could see Liam watching, his expression one of detached amusement. He wasn' t going to stop it. He was enjoying it.

My legs gave out from the pain. As I crumpled to the grass, I heard him order, "Continue."

The world started to spin, the whir of the drone and Chloe' s laughter blurring into a nightmarish soundscape. My last conscious thought was of the ninety-sixth model, a library of ancient texts, a place of quiet and knowledge.

Then, everything went black.

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