My Ex Fiancé Uncle’s Obsession

The Video

Ava’s POV

The door closes behind me, soft and almost weightless against the storm building inside my chest. I keep walking, one step after another, my heels striking the floor in a steady rhythm that doesn’t match the chaos in my pulse. I don’t stop in the hallway, not when the receptionist glances up, not when the elevator doors slide open. I step in alone, and the moment the doors shut, the control slips.

My fingers press hard against my lips like I can erase what just happened, like I can undo the way he kissed me. God, that wasn’t supposed to happen, not again, not with him of all people. I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning back against the cold metal wall as the elevator begins to descend. My reflection stares back at me, composed on the outside but completely shattered underneath.

“Get it together, Ava,” I whisper, the words sounding weaker than they should. This is how women lose, not in loud, dramatic moments, but in quiet lapses where logic disappears and something reckless takes over. Adrian Blackwood is a mistake I already made once, and I refuse to repeat it. I’m not that careless, not anymore.

The elevator dings, and I straighten instantly, pulling myself back together piece by piece. By the time the doors open, my expression is smooth, controlled, unreadable. I walk out like nothing happened, like my heart isn’t racing, like I can’t still feel his touch lingering. Like I don’t remember the exact way his voice dropped when he said my name.

Liar.

By the time I step outside, the air hits me, warm and heavy, but it does nothing to steady me. I inhale anyway, forcing my lungs to work, forcing my body to cooperate. It doesn’t help, but I don’t have the luxury of falling apart. Not here, not now, not because of him.

“Ms. Sinclair?” a voice calls, pulling me back.

I turn slightly, my expression already in place as one of the junior staff approaches with a clipboard clutched tightly to her chest. She looks at me like I’m still the same composed woman who walked in earlier, and I let her believe it. That version of me is the only one anyone is allowed to see.

“There’s a revised schedule for tomorrow’s meeting,” she says quickly, her tone careful. “Mr. Blackwood asked that you review it tonight.”

Of course he did.

I take the file without hesitation, my face giving nothing away despite the way his name settles heavily in my chest. “Send a digital copy as well,” I reply smoothly, already turning away. “I’ll go through it tonight.”

She nods and leaves, and the moment she’s gone, my grip tightens around the file.

Work is what this is supposed to be.

Not tension, not distraction, not whatever that moment in his office was. I start walking again, faster this time, like distance alone can fix what just happened. This ends now, no more slipping, no more reacting, no more him.

By the time I get home, I almost believe I’m back in control.

Almost.

The apartment is quiet, the kind of silence that makes thoughts louder if you let them. I drop my bag on the table, set the file beside it, and head straight for the kitchen without thinking. Water first, then distance, then clarity.

That’s the plan.

I fill a glass and take a long sip, letting the cold settle in my chest. It doesn’t work, because the second I set it down, my mind drifts right back to him. The way he looked at me, the way he said my name, the way he—

“No,” I say sharply, cutting the thought off before it finishes.

I walk back into the living room, forcing myself toward the file like it’s the only thing that matters. Work, focus, discipline, that’s what I need right now. I open it, read a line, then another, but the words blur together uselessly. My mind refuses to cooperate.

My phone buzzes against the table, snapping my attention instantly.

Unknown number.

Something uneasy settles in my chest as I stare at the screen for a second too long. Then I pick it up anyway, because ignoring it somehow feels worse. “Hello?” I say, my voice steady despite the tension creeping in.

Silence answers me.

My grip tightens slightly as I straighten. “Who is this?” I ask again, sharper this time.

A soft breath comes through the line, followed by a single word.

“Ava.” Everything in me freezes. That voice. “I was wondering how long it would take before you started pretending I don’t exist,” he continues calmly.

Ice spreads through my veins as recognition hits.

Ethan.

For a second, I can’t speak, my pulse climbing so fast it almost drowns him out. I force my expression to settle even though no one can see me. “Wrong number,” I say flatly, pulling the phone away.

“Ava.” That one word stops me.

I bring the phone back slowly, my jaw tightening. “What do you want, Ethan?”

“I was starting to think you’d never ask,” he replies, too casual, too familiar.

“I’m busy,” I cut in immediately, sharper now. “Say what you called to say or don’t call again.”

A quiet chuckle follows, arrogant and unchanged.

“I heard you’re working for him.”

My stomach tightens instantly.

“That’s none of your business,” I reply coldly.

“It becomes my business when you start getting involved with people like that,” he says.

The audacity makes my fingers curl tighter around the phone.

“You lost the right to comment on anything I do the moment you decided to entertain another woman in our bed,” I fire back.

Silence follows, heavier this time.

“That’s not what happened,” he says finally. “You don’t get to rewrite history,” I snap. “Not with me.”

“You kissed him already, didn’t you?” he asks suddenly. Everything in me goes still.

“You don’t know anything about me anymore,” I say, my voice lower now.

“Then prove it,” he replies. “I’m not meeting you,” I say immediately.

“You will,” he says calmly.

The confidence in his voice makes something cold settle in my chest.

“You don’t get to decide that,” I reply.

“No,” he agrees. “But I do get to decide what happens next if you don’t.”

My movements slow. “…What did you do?” I ask quietly. “Check your email,” he says. The line goes dead.

Silence fills the apartment again, heavier than before.

I stare at my phone for a long second before lowering it slowly. My heart is racing again, but this time it has nothing to do with Adrian. Whatever Ethan just started, it’s not small, and I can feel it already.

I grab my laptop and open it, my fingers hesitating briefly before I log in. One new message sits in my inbox, from an unknown sender with no subject. That alone is enough to make my chest tighten.

I click it.

The file loads slowly, like it’s dragging out the moment on purpose. My eyes scan the screen, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. And then it clicks.

My breath stops. Because staring back at me—is a video file.

And the preview frame…is me. In Adrian’s office. From earlier.