THE MAN WHO BOUGHT MY HATRED

CHAPTER 002: AVA’S POV

The elevator door glides open straight into the apartment, the huge chandelier suspended caught my attention, Cold white marble, glass doors and windows shining to the tune of the lights. I instantly feel cold, or maybe my head telling me I don't belong here.

The place smells like steel and nothing else.

Lucien shrugs off his wet coat, drops it on a chair worth more than my life. black shirt, sleeves rolled once, silver watch catching the light.

He doesn’t look at me yet. Just walks to a bar that’s longer than my old apartment, longer than the one at the diner where I work,

“Drink?” His voice is still calm, raising the bottle to my face, like he didn’t just buy a wife two hours ago.

I stay by the elevator. “I want to see the money first.”

He pours two fingers of something dark into a crystal glass. Doesn’t offer me one.

“Already sent.” He tilts his phone so I can see the screen.

Confirmed transfer: $5,000,000.00

To: Ava R. Harper

From: Voss Family Trust

Memo: Wedding gift

My throat locks.

I grab my own phone with shaking fingers. Refreshing my banking app with fingers as cold as death

Balance: $5,000,023.47

Twenty-three dollars from tonight’s tips still sitting there like a joke.

I can’t breathe. The room tilts again.

Lucien watches me. “Eli starts prep tomorrow.”

I find my voice. “How do you know they’ll take him?”

“I bought the trial.”

He says it flat, like he’s talking about buying coffee. “It’s his now.”

Something hot and sharp climbs my chest. I march across the marble, shoveling his phone away. For the past two hours, he's been gloating about buying different things, I feel like I spitting into his face and walking out.

“You don’t get to play God with my brother.”

He finally looks at me full in the face.

Dark coffee eyes. No blink.

“I already did.”

I swing. Open hand, going for his cheek.

He catches my wrist mid-air, fingers like steel.

His fingers pressing into my wrist, just enough to stop me, it doesn’t hurt, just enough to stop me.

His thumb grazes the inside of my wrist, once, like he’s checking my pulse.

“Ava, hit me if that's going to make you feel better” he says. “But it changes nothing.”

I yank free. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

He lets go. Walks to the windows. City sprawls under us like we’re floating.

“Guest wing is left hallway, third door. Closet is full. Sizes are correct. Sleep. Tomorrow we get married at ten.”

I laugh, ugly and loud. “Tomorrow?”

“Judge owes me.” He turns. “You’ll wear white.”

“I don’t own white.”

“You do now.”

I flip him off again and storm down the hallway he pointed, heart racing against my ribs, I want to punch him in the face so bad.

Third door opens into a bedroom the size of a house.

White bed the size of a boat. Windows on three sides.

Closet door stands open.

Rows of clothes. Tags still on. My exact size.

Jeans, hoodies, underwear, and dresses I’d never touch.

And a simple white wedding dress, hanging in the center. Silk. No lace, no beads. Just clean lines.

I rip it off the hanger.

My fist on it like it had brought me doom, I should tear it and I’ll be free.

Instead I clutch it close to my face and scream into the fabric until my throat bleeds.

When I come out, the apartment is only lit by a lamp at the side.

Lucien sits on the couch, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, glass in hand.

He doesn’t look up.

I stand there dripping alley water on his perfect floor.

“Separate bedrooms, right? That was the deal.”

He nods once. “For now.”

My skin prickles.

I march past him, slam my new bedroom door, lock it.

Lean against it shaking.

Through the door I hear ice clink in his glass.

Then quiet.

I slide down the door until I’m sitting on cold marble.

Five million dollars for one miserable year, even if I worked extra shifts aside from the three I work on, I wouldn't be able to raise that money in five years.

My mom was definitely right when she said family is all about sacrifices, I can't watch the only family I have left die, I swallowed hard, fingers twitching.

One monster on the other side of the wall.

I pull out my phone. Call the hospital.

Night nurse answers, sleepy.

“It’s Ava Harper . Eli Harper ’s sister. Put me through to whoever handles billing.”

Hold music.

Then a man, wide awake. “Miss Harper ? We’ve received full payment for Eli’s trial. Plus a deposit for supportive care. He starts tomorrow morning.”

I hang up before he finishes. Press the phone to my chest. Tears come hot and sudden. I remembered her, she had given up, on us, on me, on Eli.

I strutted in that night, only 16, the diner had closed a little later than usual, pushed the door with my shoulder, my brown leather bag hung over my shoulder.

The clock ticked a little bit louder than usual, the house was unusually quiet, just a weak cry from the eleven-day-old baby, Eli, lying in the other room. Mom sat on the cheap dining chair by the end of the hall, head bent, she didn't look up, even when I greeted, I flung my bag, my hand grasping her shoulder.

Her head lolled forward, hand resting hard on a piece of paper, I forced it out.

‘I can't watch him die.’ I read the words over and over, it made no sense.

Then I called out to her, she tilted her head up, weak eyes on my face, shaky hands grabbed my chin one last time.

“I'm sorry, Ava.” That was all she said, then she slumped to the floor.

I crouched over her instantly, shook her with all the strength I could muster, then my eyes fell on it, a white jar, lid opened, tablet spilled like candy across the floor, she had overdosed. What ever happened to making sacrifices for family? I guess this was hers.

I pulled my mind back, back to reality, back to sacrificing 365 days for Eli.

I hate them. Hate him. Hate how relieved I am.

I crawl into the giant bed still wearing my diner uniform.

Smell of grease and rain and money all mixed.

The sheets are cool, expensive, soft.

I stare at the ceiling until the sky outside turns gray.

My new phone buzzes on the nightstand, I tilt it to check, it was 6:47 am.

Unknown number. Text.” Wear the dress. Car leaves at 9:30.”

I throw the phone across the room. It hits the wall, doesn’t break.

Of course it doesn’t. Everything here is unbreakable.

I shower in a bathroom bigger than my old apartment.

Water falling all over me from the ceiling like rain.

I scrub until my skin is raw.

When I step out, the white dress waits on the bed, I pull it up, staring at it like a curse, like it had caused the change in my life.

Someone came in while I showered.

A single red rose lies across it. No note.

I put the dress on. It fits perfectly. I let my hair flow freely behind me, unlike the usual bun I have on while at the diner.

I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the woman staring back,

Then the phone beep, a notification, I look at the screen it was 9:29 am, I walk out.

Lucien waits by the elevator in a black suit, no tie.

He looks up.

Something flickers across his eyes, his eyes were softer this morning, I look again, just to place what exactly it is, but it was gone.

He pulls out a small velvet box from his pocket,

Inside were two rings. Simple platinum bands.

“Put it on,” he says with his usual cold demeanor

I slide the smaller one on my finger. Cold. Heavy.

He does the same with his.

Elevator doors open.

We step in together, his height towering over me, his eyes flickering, “Your last chance to run” his face plain and flat.