(Updated)

Ava’s POV

The walls of the room felt as though they were closing in on me. Every shadow seemed to mock me, every creak of the floorboards a whisper of my shame. The ringing of my phone broke the silence, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer it. Not now. Not when my world was crumbling.

I forced myself out of the bathtub, my skin wrinkled and red from soaking too long. Wrapping a towel around me, I stared at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. My eyes were swollen, my face pale. I barely recognized the woman looking back at me.

"You can't fall apart," I muttered to myself, gripping the sink with trembling hands. "Not now."

The room seemed to echo with its emptiness, amplifying the weight in my chest. The walls weren’t just closing in anymore—they were suffocating me. Every breath I took felt like it burned.

My phone buzzed, breaking the stifling silence. At first, I ignored it, too drained to face anything or anyone. But when it kept ringing, something in me forced my hand to reach for it.

Holly’s name flashed on the screen.

Holly. My little sister, my only reason for being in California. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if she’d somehow avoided seeing the headlines. But I knew better.

I hesitated before answering, trying to steady my breath to sound more in control, as though my entire life is not just falling apart. My fingers trembled as I pressed the screen. “Holly?” My voice cracked despite my effort, the sound foreign to my ears.

“Ava,” she said softly, her voice tinged with both concern and caution. “I saw the news.”

Of course, she had. It wasn’t just news; it was everywhere.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered, pressing my palm against my forehead. “I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

“Ava, listen to me,” she said, her tone firmer now. “You need to stay in the hotel. Don’t come here. The hospital is crawling with paparazzi. They’re desperate for a glimpse of you.”

They even know where she is? I'm certain that someone very close to me had a hand in this.

Her words sank like lead into my stomach. The only reason I had flown here was to see her, to be there for her, and now, even that was being stripped away.

“I can’t even come to see you? How are you feeling? Any updates?” My voice cracked under the weight of my despair.

“For once Ava, worry about yourself,” Holly said gently but firmly. “You can’t come to the hospital right now. They’ll hound you, Ava. They’ll turn this into a circus. Please… stay where you are.”

I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up, but they refused to fall. “Holly, I didn’t do any of what they said. I don’t know how it happened, but I swear, I didn’t do this.”

“I know,” she said softly, and those two words were like a balm on my battered soul. “I know you didn’t because you’re my sister. But right now, you need to protect yourself. Let Rose handle the rest.”

“Holly, it’s not just about me,” I murmured. “It’s about everything I’ve worked for, my entire life. It’s all unraveling, and I don’t even know how to fight back.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Holly said, her voice filled with quiet conviction. “You’re the strongest person I know, Ava. You always have been. You’ll get through this.”

Her faith in me only made the pain sharper. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“For what?” she asked, her tone gentle but puzzled.

“For dragging you into this mess. For not being there with you now. For—”

“Stop,” Holly interrupted. “You didn’t drag me into anything. And I’m fine. The doctors are taking good care of me. You need to focus on yourself right now.”

I closed my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” she said firmly. “And you will. But for now, just breathe, Ava. Take it one moment at a time.”

The call ended not long after, and the silence that followed was deafening. I sat on the cold floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t feel anything but the gaping void that had swallowed me whole.

Time slipped by in a blur, the minutes bleeding into hours. Finally, I reached for my phone again, desperate for something—anything—to ground me. I called Rose, needing an update on her progress, but the line didn’t connect.

Frustration gnawed at me, and against my better judgment, I opened my browser. The scandal was still trending, each headline more salacious than the last.

And then I saw it.

An exclusive interview. Mrs. Priscilla Miller.

My heart stuttered in my chest as I clicked on the link, dread pooling in my stomach.

The video began to play, and there she was—Orion’s mother, sitting with perfect poise, her face a mask of righteous indignation. But I know better than anyone.

“She’s a gold digger,” Mrs. Miller said, her voice dripping with disdain. “From the moment I met her, I knew she wasn’t to be trusted. But I tried to help her, out of the goodness of my heart.”

My pulse roared in my ears as her lies unfolded, each word a dagger to my chest.

“She wormed her way into my husband’s life, manipulated him into changing his will to leave everything to her. And when she got what she wanted, she killed him.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“She killed him,” she repeated, her voice shaking for effect. “And then, as if that wasn’t enough, she turned her sights on my son, Orion. She’s claimed him as her own, poisoning him against his own family.”

I watched in stunned silence as Mrs. Miller dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, her performance nothing short of masterful.

“Why?” I whispered to the empty room, my voice barely audible. “Why is she doing this?”

The interviewer leaned in, his expression solemn. “Mrs. Miller, these are serious accusations. Do you have any evidence to support them?”

“Evidence?” she repeated, feigning offense. “My husband’s sudden death, the changes to his will, the way she isolated Orion from us—it’s all there. Anyone with eyes can see the truth.”

I ended the video as I couldn’t bring myself to watch further. The taint to my name and reputation was unbearable. I had stopped playing the video, but her words lingered, echoing in my mind.

They’re all in on it.

Orion. His mother. Chloe. My father. All of them.

I felt the walls closing in again, the air growing heavier with every passing second. My hands trembled as I set my phone down, the screen going dark.

I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t scream. I could only sit there, motionless, as the weight of it all crushed me.

And yet, in the depths of my despair, a single, burning thought took root.

I would prove them wrong. Every last one of them. I will make them pay for dragging my name to the mud.

I will do all that, but right now, I want to disappear.