Chapter 4

Leah's voice floated up the stairs, sweet and insistent. "Benny, are you ready? Our reservation is at seven!"

Ben was still standing in Ava's empty study, his mind reeling. He looked at Ava, who was now standing and putting on a light jacket.

"Come with us," he said, the words coming out as a command. "We're going out for dinner. All of us."

He expected her to refuse, to fight him. Instead, she just gave a slight nod. "Alright."

The car ride was tense. Ben drove, with Leah in the passenger seat, chattering happily about her day. Leo was in the back with Ava, but he leaned forward, talking exclusively to Leah. Ava sat silently, staring out the window, a million miles away.

They arrived at a high-end seafood restaurant, one of Leah's favorites. The air smelled of butter, garlic, and the sea.

As soon as they were seated, Leo's eyes lit up. "Ooh, they have lobster! Can I get a lobster, Daddy?"

"Of course, buddy," Ben said, smiling at his son.

Leah beamed. "I'll have the crab legs. They're the best here."

Ava said nothing, just scanned the menu with a blank expression.

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension. Ben felt a growing irritation. Ava was ruining this, just like she'd ruined the rock-climbing trip. Her silence was a judgment, a heavy weight on the table.

Leah, ever the performer, decided to play the part of the gracious hostess. She picked up a bread roll from the basket and held it out to Ava.

"Here, Ava," she said, her voice full of fake concern. "You must be hungry."

Ava looked at the bread in Leah's hand, then at Leah's face. She didn't move.

"I don't want it," she said, her voice flat.

"Ava, don't be rude," Ben snapped. "Leah is just trying to be nice."

"Mommy, just take it," Leo whined. "Auntie Leah is being nice to you."

Ava slowly turned her gaze from Leo to Ben, and then back to Leah. A long, heavy silence fell over the table.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a razor.

"I'm allergic to shellfish," she said, looking directly at Ben. "Severely. Anaphylactic shock. We've been married for six years. Did you forget?"

Ben froze. He had forgotten. In all the years, it had only come up a few times. She always just ordered something else. It had never seemed like a big deal. But to bring her here...

He looked at Leo. His son's face was a mask of confusion. He had no idea. He had never known.

"And you," Ava said, her gaze shifting to Leo, her voice softening slightly but still holding an edge of steel. "You are my son. You live with me. And you don't even know that your own mother could die from the food at this table."

The silence was deafening. Leah's face was pale, her hand still frozen in mid-air holding the bread. Ben felt a flush of shame and anger so potent it made him dizzy.

"I think," Ava said, placing her napkin neatly on the table, "that I have lost my appetite."

She stood up and walked out of the restaurant without a backward glance.

Ben watched her go, a storm of conflicting emotions warring inside him. Part of him wanted to run after her, to apologize. But the larger part, the proud, self-absorbed part, was just angry. Angry that she had made him look bad. Angry that she had, once again, made a scene.

He was starting to realize that the Ava he thought he knew was gone. In her place was this cold, sharp-edged stranger. And he was terrified of her.

Back in her room, Ava ate a simple meal of rice and vegetables that she'd asked Maria to prepare earlier. She felt a strange sense of calm. The confrontation hadn't been planned, but it had been clarifying.

She opened her new laptop and resumed her work, studying encrypted files and satellite images. It felt good to use her mind again, to focus on something other than the slow-motion car crash her life had become.

Later that night, there was a soft knock on her door.

She opened it to find Leo standing there, holding a small plate with a piece of cake on it. Leah stood behind him, a look of saccharine concern on her face.

"Mommy," Leo said, his voice small. "Auntie Leah and I brought you dessert. We're sorry about dinner."

Leah stepped forward. "Yes, Ava. I'm so sorry. I had no idea about your allergy. I feel terrible." Her apology was flawless, her expression a perfect blend of remorse and sympathy.

Ava's eyes narrowed. She knew this act. It was Leah's signature move: the public apology, using the child as a shield.

"I'm not hungry," Ava said.

"Please, Mommy?" Leo pleaded, his eyes welling up with tears. "Just one bite?"

For a moment, her resolve wavered. He was her son. He was trying.

Seeing the flicker of softness in Ava's eyes, Leah made her move.

"Oh, let me help you," she said, taking the fork from the plate. She scooped up a piece of cake and moved it towards Ava's mouth. "Just a little taste. It's your favorite, carrot cake."

It was a power play, a blatant act of aggression disguised as kindness.

Ava's reaction was instantaneous. She recoiled, pushing Leah's hand away.

"I said no!"

The fork clattered to the floor.

But Leah was a master of her craft. Instead of pulling back, she used the momentum to her advantage. With a small, theatrical cry, she stumbled backward, her arms flailing. She twisted her body as she fell, crashing to the ground in a heap.

"Ouch!" she cried out, clutching her ankle. "My ankle! I think you broke it again!"

Leo gasped, his eyes wide with horror. "Mommy! You pushed her! You hurt Auntie Leah!"

Right on cue, Ben came rushing up the stairs. "What's going on? I heard a crash!"

He saw Leah on the floor, crying in pain. He saw Leo pointing a trembling finger at Ava. He saw Ava standing there, her face a cold, hard mask.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't need to. He had already made up his mind.

"Ava!" he roared, his face purple with rage. "What the hell did you do?"

Leah, from the floor, played her part to perfection. "It's not her fault, Ben," she sobbed. "I was just trying to give her some cake. I must have lost my balance."

Leo, completely taken in, ran to Leah's side. "No! Mommy pushed you! I saw it! She's a monster!"

A monster.

The word echoed in the hallway.

Ava looked at the scene before her: her husband, her son, the manipulative woman who had orchestrated it all. She felt a profound, chilling clarity.

She was done. She was so completely, irrevocably done.

And she was glad she had a way out.