Sinclair Ashes

Chapter 6: Three Months in the Dark

Ava – Then and Now

The last thing I remembered before the crash was the sound of my own heartbeat.

Loud. Fast. Frantic.

The road ahead of me blurred through the tears, the headlights warping against the night rain. I was driving too fast. I didn’t care. I wanted to disappear—wanted the pain to stop.

Then the flash.

The impact.

And everything went black.

I woke up to silence.

Sterile, white walls. The sharp scent of antiseptic. Tubes in my arms. Pain radiating from my ribs and leg.

And him—Ethan Blackwood—sitting in the corner of the hospital room like he’d been there for hours.

At first, I thought I was hallucinating.

I didn’t speak. Neither did he.

He just watched me with unreadable eyes.

After a while, he stood, walked over, and said, “You’re lucky you were wearing a seatbelt.”

That was it. No grand speech. No explanation.

I didn’t ask why he was there. I couldn’t. My throat was raw, my body broken, and my heart still burning from what I’d seen that night—Dominic, Sophie, my father smiling like nothing had shattered.

I closed my eyes and let the darkness take me again.

Weeks passed.

I was kept in a private facility—somewhere quiet, expensive, hidden. My injuries were serious, but not fatal. Ribs. Left leg. A concussion. Nothing permanent, just enough to make me feel like a stranger in my own body.

Ethan came and went. Sometimes he sat in silence. Other times, he brought books or updates from the outside world. But never too much. Never names. Never news about the Sinclairs.

One day, I asked why.

He tilted his head, thoughtful. “Because the world thinks you’re dead.”

And then, after a long pause: “Maybe you should let it.”

They buried an empty coffin.

I saw the footage on a muted screen Ethan left playing in the corner one day. My father standing in front of a pristine casket. Sophie weeping into Dominic’s shoulder.

It looked perfect.

Like grief should have a bow on it.

But my father’s face wasn’t grief-stricken. It was calm. Composed. Controlled.

He had already moved on.

Two weeks later, they announced Sophie and Dominic’s engagement. My step-sister and my ex.

My father gave a speech.

That was the moment something inside me died for real.

“What do you want to do now?” Ethan asked.

I had no answer.

I wasn’t sure who I was without everything I’d been built to be—Robert Sinclair’s daughter. The perfect girl. The loyal girlfriend. The heiress.

That version of Ava had burned in the fire of that crash.

What rose from it… was someone else.

Someone watching her former life be rebuilt without her.

I didn’t plan revenge—not at first. I just wanted to know why. Why had they all moved on so easily? Why hadn’t anyone looked for me? Not my father. Not even Lily, who I had loved like a sister.

Had I really meant that little?

The first time Ethan suggested I stay dead, I told him he was insane.

The second time, I considered it.

The third time, I agreed.

I changed everything.

My hair. My voice. The way I walked. I worked with one of Ethan’s discreet contacts—someone who handled high-level "transitions" for people who wanted to disappear. Fake records, offshore accounts, a whole new identity.

But I didn’t use it to run.

I used it to plan.

I learned everything Ethan could offer—about business, power, strategy, control. I watched how he operated. He never explained why he’d saved me. He never talked about his past. But he listened to me. He didn’t lie to me. He saw me—not as a broken girl, but as someone who could be dangerous.

Eventually, he asked me a question.

“Do you want your life back… or do you want to end theirs?”

I looked at him for a long time before answering.

“Both.”

The engagement wasn’t real. Not entirely.

At least, I didn’t think so.

We never discussed feelings. Never pretended to be in love. But the papers were filed, and the diamond was massive, and the entire business world believed it.

He said it would give me power. That with his name beside mine, no one would question my return. That if I wanted revenge, I needed to walk back into the world with fire in my eyes—not grief.

So I said yes.

And then I waited.

The day of the wedding arrived like a breath I’d been holding for three months.

Sophie. Dominic. My father. All of them standing in front of their perfect future. Everything I had lost, wrapped up in roses and luxury.

I watched from the car before we stepped out.

I didn’t feel fear.

I felt… ready.

When Ethan took the microphone, I stood just behind the curtain, breathing evenly, heels steady on the grass. His voice was smooth, controlled. The crowd laughed nervously.

Then he said it: “I recently got engaged.”

And the room changed.

All I had to do was walk forward.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t smile. I let them see what they had tried to forget.

I saw Sophie’s glass fall from her hand. I saw Dominic’s face go pale. I saw my father blink—just once—and then shut down.

And Lily…

Lily didn’t move.

She just stared like she couldn’t decide if I was real or not.

I stood beside Ethan.

Alive.

Stronger.

And I made them all remember.