Ava’s POV
The apartment was too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed into your ears until you heard only your own thoughts. And mine had not stopped racing since that day in Jason’s office.
I could still see the folders, thick, heavy, smelling faintly of old paper and ink. His family’s name scribbled neatly beside mine, the Williams company, AW Interiors, all lined up like items in a shopping cart. When I confronted him, I had gone in shaking with anger, ready to fight. I expected denial, maybe shouting, maybe him trying to intimidate me. But no. Jason had leaned back in his chair, folded his hands, and spoken to me like I was a little girl throwing a tantrum.
His words replayed in my head like a loop: “These are just strategies, Ava. Drafts on paper. They don’t mean anything. You’re
