Chapter 3

Ava POV:

My body slammed against the hospital floor, every bone aching, every muscle screaming in protest. My father's last breath, a flatline echoing in the sterile room, was a sound that would haunt me for eternity. I scrambled on my hands and knees, clawing my way towards his bed, towards the cold, still form that was once my vibrant, loving father.

"Father!" My voice was a raw, guttural cry, a sound of pure, unadulterated anguish. I reached for his hand, his skin cool beneath my touch. He was really gone. Because of them.

A rage, cold and absolute, ignited within me. I twisted, snarling, and lunged at Chris, my hands forming fists, striking him wherever I could reach. "You killed him! You murdered my father!" My blows were weak, fueled by grief more than strength, but they carried the weight of seven years of betrayal and a lifetime of love for the man he had just destroyed.

Chris grabbed my wrists, his strength easily overpowering mine. He twisted them behind my back, forcing me to my knees. "Enough, Ava! You're making a scene." His voice was a low growl, utterly devoid of the emotion that gripped me. How could he be so calm? So unfeeling?

"Let me go!" I thrashed against his hold, but it was futile. He held me captive, just as he had held my life captive for so long.

"Ava," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The choice is yours." He paused, letting his words hang heavy in the air. "Sign the waiver for Kimberli, and I'll allow you to see your father's body one last time. You can arrange a funeral. If you refuse..." He trailed off, but the implication was clear. He would erase my father's existence, just as he had tried to erase mine.

My breath caught in my throat. My father's funeral. The last rites for the man who had always been my anchor. My only remaining family. I hated him, hated Kimberli, hated myself for ever loving such a monster. But I couldn't deny my father his dignity. I couldn't let them desecrate his memory.

"Fine," I choked out, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "I'll sign. Now let me go."

Chris released my wrists, pushing me roughly towards the small table in the corner where the clipboard lay. My hands still trembled, but a cold resolve had settled in my heart. This was not surrender. This was a tactical retreat. A promise of future war.

A nurse, her face pale with shock, brought the clipboard and a pen. My hand was unsteady as I scrawled my signature across the bottom of the document, a meaningless scrap of paper in the face of such monumental loss. It was done. Kimberli Luna was legally absolved of any wrongdoing in my father's surgery. A grotesque parody of justice.

I looked up at Chris, my eyes burning with a hatred so profound it felt like a physical entity. "Now," I said, my voice dangerously soft, "I want to see my father. And then, I want to be left alone to mourn him. You and your... doctor can leave."

Chris hesitated, his eyes flickering towards the doorway as if expecting Kimberli to appear. A frown creased his brow. It was a moment of weakness, a tiny crack in his carefully constructed facade. He actually looked almost... confused.

But Kimberli, ever the puppet master, conveniently reappeared at that moment, her arm still cradled in Chris's. Her eyes, still wide and innocent, darted to me, then to the signed waiver on the clipboard. A small, victorious smile touched her lips. "Chris, darling, are you alright? You look troubled."

He immediately stiffened, his gaze snapping back to her. The fleeting moment of confusion vanished, replaced by his familiar mask of cold control. "I'm fine, my love. Just dealing with Ava." He pulled her closer, his concern for her painfully obvious.

I ignored them both. My focus was solely on my father. I rushed to his bedside, collapsing beside him, cradling his head in my arms. His skin was already growing colder. The machines were silent. The room felt immense, cavernous, filled with the echo of my silent screams.

"We need to get him to emergency care!" I cried, my voice hoarse. He wasn't truly gone, was he? There had to be something. A miracle.

But then, an orderly came in, followed by two security guards. "Mrs. Blevins, Dr. Luna needs the room."

"No! My father needs help!" I screamed, clinging to him.

Dr. Henderson, my father's primary physician, rushed in, looking distraught. "What's going on? Why are they removing the equipment? He needs ongoing monitoring!"

Chris stepped forward, his voice chillingly calm. "Dr. Henderson, Kimberli needs you. She had an unfortunate incident. Your patient here has been... terminated." He used the word with such a clinical detachment it made my blood run cold.

"Terminated?" Dr. Henderson's eyes widened in horror. "What are you talking about? And what incident?"

Kimberli, ever the actress, dabbed delicately at her cheek, a faint red mark visible. "Ava... she attacked me, doctor. Her mental state is fragile. I need immediate attention."

"You lying bitch!" I shrieked, making another desperate lunge for Kimberli, but the security guards grabbed me, restraining my arms behind my back.

"Take her away!" Chris commanded, his voice echoing in the small room. He looked at Dr. Henderson. "You heard her. Kimberli needs you. She's far more important right now. My wife is unstable."

"But... the patient..." Dr. Henderson protested, glancing at my father.

"Is no longer a concern," Chris finished, his voice final. "Now, go. Kimberli is waiting."

The guards dragged me towards the door. I clawed at them, desperate to get back to my father. "No! Don't touch him! He's my father! You can't just leave him here!"

"You should have signed the waiver sooner, Ava," Chris said, his voice devoid of pity. "Your choices have consequences."

My head hit the doorframe as they pulled me through. A sharp pain. My hand went to my head, my fingers coming away sticky with blood. But I barely registered it. All I could see was my father, alone in that cold room, his life cruelly extinguished by the man I had once loved. I would not let this stand. I would fight for him, even if it meant my own destruction. They had robbed me of everything, but they would not rob me of my revenge.