Chapter 5

My brother Dustin and I had been inseparable after our parents died. He was my only family, my staunchest protector. When I met Harrison, Dustin was suspicious. "He's too polished, Ava," he'd warned. "Men like that are hiding something."

I had dismissed his concerns as overprotectiveness. I told him he was wrong, that Harrison was a good man. The argument had created a rift between us. Harrison had capitalized on it, subtly poisoning me against my own brother.

"He's just jealous, Ava," Harrison would say, his voice full of false sympathy. "He can't stand to see you happy with someone else."

I had tried to bridge the gap, to make peace between the two most important men in my life. But every attempt was sabotaged. Plans were mysteriously canceled. Messages went unanswered. I thought Dustin was angry with me. I never imagined it was Harrison, systematically isolating me, cutting me off from the one person who might see through his lies.

Now, staring at the old phone, I scrolled through the messages. There were dozens from Dustin, increasingly frantic. "Ava, please call me. What did I do?" "Are you screening my calls?" "Did Harrison tell you to do this?"

And then, the final, devastating reply, sent from my number: "I have a new family now. I don't need you anymore. Lose my number."

The phone clattered to the floor. The air was sucked from my lungs. Harrison hadn't just lied to me. He had impersonated me. He had deliberately and maliciously destroyed my relationship with my brother.

A white-hot rage, purer and more intense than anything I had ever felt, surged through me. I grabbed my keys and stormed out of the house. I was going to find him. I was going to confront him.

His office said he was at the hospital. Visiting Brooke. Of course.

I found them in the maternity ward. Brooke was glowing, her hand resting on her slightly rounded stomach. Harrison was beaming, looking at her with an expression of pure adoration.

"The doctor says it's a boy," Harrison announced to a group of visiting colleagues. "I'm going to be a father."

The world went silent. The sounds of the hospital faded into a dull roar. All I could see was Harrison's smiling face, his hand on Brooke's belly. Her baby. Their baby.

"We're going to name him after my father," Harrison said, his voice thick with emotion. "He's going to be strong and brave, just like his old man."

I did the math in my head. The timing was a brutal, undeniable confirmation. He had gotten her pregnant while we were still "married." While I was carrying the child he had so callously dismissed.

My own lost child. The one he said "wasn't really a person yet." Tears pricked my eyes, but I forced them back. I would not break. Not here. Not in front of them.

I remembered the day I told him I was pregnant. He had smiled, a perfect, practiced smile. "That's wonderful, Ava. A child is exactly what we need to complete our family." Another lie. Another line from his script.

The hypocrisy of it all was so staggering, it was almost funny. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream.

I turned and walked away. There was no point in a confrontation. He would just lie. He was a master of lies. And I was done listening to them.

I spent the next few days in a daze, trying to make arrangements to leave, to disappear. I found a new number and sent a tentative message to my brother, explaining everything. The reply was instantaneous. "I'm on my way. Don't go anywhere."

Harrison was busy, constantly running to Brooke's side, playing the part of the doting father-to-be. I used his absence to plan my escape.

The day my brother was due to arrive, Brooke showed up at my door. She was holding a small, intricately carved wooden box.

"Harrison said you might like this," she said, a smug smile on her face. "He said it didn't mean anything to him anymore."

I recognized the box instantly. My father, a combat medic, had carved it for my mother in Afghanistan. It was one of the few things I had left of them. I had shown it to Harrison once, told him how much it meant to me.

"He gave this to you?" I asked, my voice trembling with a rage I couldn't contain.

"He gives me everything I want," Brooke said, her eyes glinting with malice. "He even gave me your mother's necklace. The one from the bombing. Said it was just a piece of junk taking up space."

That was it. The final, unbearable cruelty.

I lunged at her. I snatched the box from her hand, my fingers closing around the worn wood. My mother's memory. My father's love. She had dared to touch it, to defile it with her presence.

"Get out of my house!" I screamed, my body shaking.

She stumbled back, a look of shock on her face. Then her expression hardened. She swung her purse, hitting me hard in the face. The world exploded in a flash of pain.

She saw my reaction and her eyes widened in feigned terror. She clutched her stomach and let out a piercing shriek. "My baby! You're trying to hurt my baby!"

Just then, the front door opened. Harrison stood there, his face a thundercloud. He saw Brooke on the floor, clutching her stomach, and me standing over her, the wooden box in my hand. He didn't hesitate. He rushed to her side.

"Brooke! Are you okay?" He glared at me, his eyes full of hatred. "What did you do, Ava?"

The pain in my cheek was nothing compared to the pain of his instant, unwavering belief in her lie.

I pulled out my phone. My hands were shaking, but my finger was steady as I dialed 9-1-1.

"I'd like to report an assault," I said, my voice cold and clear.

Harrison's face contorted in a mask of fury. "How dare you?" he hissed. "You're the one who attacked a pregnant woman!"