Ava's POV

"Are you scared?" he asks.

I don't answer right away. Across from me sits a man whose name alone can change things in New York City. His suit costs more than my yearly salary.

Scared is an understatement for what I'm feeling right now. I can hear my own heartbeat, and for some reason my hands won't stop shaking.

Just one month ago, I was a normal girl. An orphan who worked for the Coles as a PA. Now I sat across from one of the most dangerous men in the entire country.

A month ago I could hardly kill a fly without feeling guilty about it. Now I had blood on my hands.

I was an orphan who lived a quiet life. No family, no friends, no chaos, no drama. Until my boss's son called me — I wish I'd never gone that day. He called me to his house with the excuse of collecting an important file that needed my review before the next morning, and I stupidly went, even after he specifically told me to come through the back door.

It took me twenty minutes to get there from our HQ at Hudson Park, since he lived on the Upper East Side, in one of the doorman buildings.

When I got to the house it was completely quiet, like no one else was around. I felt uneasy, suspicious, but I brushed it off and went up to his room.

At first there was no one — not even Ethan — in the room. Then he emerged with a menacing smirk on his face, and he tried to do the one thing I never thought a Cole was capable of: rape.

I'd worked for the Coles for a year by then, and it wasn't just me who thought it — the entire country said the same. Everyone thought the Coles were decent people, Victor Cole and his son, both of them, respected all over the city, and not just for the money.

But everything shattered the moment Ethan tried to force himself on me.

"Ethan, please — please don't do this," I cried, fighting as he pinned me down again. He just laughed, like I'd made the silliest joke he'd ever heard. I tried screaming, hoping someone would hear and come to my rescue.

But no one came. No one was there except the two of us.

Which meant I had to find a way out myself.

I bit him and tried to run, but he pinned me down again. Then he hit me across the face, tore my shirt, and left me in just my bra. My lips were bleeding and my body already felt too heavy. But I couldn't let him have his way with me.

I reached for the vase on the table beside me and brought it down on his head. Not once, but three times.

He collapsed on top of me. I thought he'd just lost consciousness, but then I felt it — warm liquid dripping onto my chest from his head. When I touched it, I realized it was blood. Ethan was bleeding. I pushed him off and he hit the ground, but he didn't wake up.

My legs wouldn't hold me steady. I backed into the wall, staring down at him, at the blood pooling dark against the hardwood, my whole body trembling. A man was dead, and I had done that.

The thought wouldn't stop looping. His face. The vase. That sound. First it was fear, but the thought of getting caught was worse than what I'd become in that room. The Coles would make me pay in a far more severe way for killing their only son.

My breath came fast. I pressed a hand to my mouth to keep from making a sound, though there was no one left to hear it. I'd never so much as lied to a police officer in my life — I never had a reason to. Now I was standing over a body, calculating fingerprints, cameras, timelines, like some stranger had crawled into my skin and taken over my head. I deleted the message he'd sent me earlier. I did what I could and hoped it was enough.

I took one of Ethan's shirts and wore it, then ran from the crime scene, out through the back door. There was still no one in the house.

But deep down, I knew this wasn't the end.

When I got home, I burned the shirt I'd taken from Ethan, then showered, scrubbed my body raw, wishing it would all wash away. Wishing I'd wake up and find it had all been a bad dream.

My hands found my earbuds before I even decided to reach for them — muscle memory, the one thing that had gotten me through every bad day since I was a kid. I put on “when the party's over” and let Billie Eilish's voice fill the space where my thoughts wouldn't stop screaming.

In twenty-four years I'd never wished for anything, even though I'd been alone all my life. All I'd ever wanted was to keep living my peaceful life. But after that night, I had a new one.

And in that moment I let it all out, crying until my bedsheet was wet, the tears refusing to stop. The last time I'd felt this helpless was watching my mother take her last breath. I'd thought I was strong — strong enough to handle whatever came my way — but I guess I was wrong. What happened that night was bigger than me. I wasn't ready for any of it. Didn't matter that it was self-defense. It was only the beginning.

Now I'd just have to find out — what would go wrong after I killed him?

I kept up my normal work routine, even though there was nothing left for me to do after Ethan's body was found. Mr. Cole was consumed by the investigation into his son's murder, vowing to find the killer. Mrs. Cole wasn't helping either — seeing her cry every day on the news only made my guilt worse.

I hadn't been the same. I hadn't been sleeping, and it showed in my eyes. I hoped no one noticed, but who was I kidding, I could see it clearly enough myself, every time I looked in the mirror.

Things went back to normal, a little.

Because everyone was talking about it. The murder. They'd never believe me if I told them he'd tried to rape me. I thought I still had time to think through my next move.

It was Saturday, so I was home. But my hope cracked the moment I turned on my TV.

It was Ethan's maid, Maya Alvarez. She was on the news with the police, saying she'd been there during the murder.

There was a witness.

Or maybe this was a setup.

Oh no.