My Ex, My Stepbrother, My Ruin

Why was William calling Ava

Jake's POV

The moment I stepped into the living room, my gaze landed on the shattered vase.

If my father were here, he’d be deeply hurt. The vase had been designed by an old Italian craftsman, something he’d paid a ridiculous amount for during one of his trips to Italy.

I looked at Ashley, a silent question in my eyes. She was standing closest to it, but I doubted she’d done it. She knew how much it meant to him.

Ashley tilted her head slightly toward Ava, like she was giving her permission to speak first.

I turned to Ava, hands tucked into my pockets, waiting.

“I don’t know how it happened, but when I walked in, I saw it lying beside Ashley like this. She must have broken it, but I don’t know if it was on purpose.”

I turned back to Ashley, who was way too calm for someone being accused. Maybe she had done it after all. But I decided not to jump to conclusions until I was done figuring things out.

“Is it true?” I asked. “Did you break it?”

She let out a short, humorless laugh, gesturing toward the broken glass.

“You think I’d do something like this?” She looked at me like she couldn’t believe I was even asking. And the way she stared, it made my chest ache. The last time she’d looked at me like that was at the airport, five years ago.

“Jake, she’s not even denying it,” Ava cut in quickly, her hand tightening around my arm. “Isn’t it suspicious she was the only one here when it happened?”

Ava had a point. But I couldn’t decide based on assumptions. I wasn’t there, I needed something solid. Proof. Maybe a witness.

Before I could respond, a small figure bounced into the hallway.

Louisiana.

She was playing with Diddy, making the doll hop in the air, but she slowed when she noticed the tension. Her eyes moved from one face to another.

“Huh… what’s happening?” she asked, lowering the doll to her side.

“Hey, princess,” I said, opening my arms as I eased away from Ava. “Come here, baby.”

She walked into my arms, and I lifted her up, settling her against me.

With her here, I almost dropped it. I didn’t want her caught in something like this, adults arguing over broken glass.

But before I could say anything, she pointed toward the shattered vase, her small fingers tapping my shoulder.

“Daddy, Daddy,” she said, her voice quick with excitement. “That vase was pretty. A woman passing by broke it. Aunty Ashley even wanted to help clean it.”

I went still.

Slowly, my gaze shifted to Ashley. She was looking at Louisiana with a soft expression.

Ava, beside me, rolled her eyes. I saw it.

“Kids imagine things all the time, Jake.” She said with a laugh like Louisiana was lying.

“I'm not mommy.” Louisiana turned slightly towards her. “I was there when it happened.”

Ava suddenly became silent.

I looked at her and said flatly. “You said she did it.”

“I didn’t know she wasn’t the one who broke it,” Ava defended herself. I wasn’t surprised. Even when she was wrong, she still wouldn’t admit it. I had learned to overlook that part of her sometimes.

“I’m…” I started to apologize on Ava’s behalf, but she cut me off.

“It doesn’t matter.” she didn't even look at me when she said it. “I’ll go inform a servant to clean this up.”

“Or you could clean it up yourself. The servants are quite busy,” Ava said.

Ashley didn’t even bother replying. She just walked off, like a fool had spoken. And I respected that about her. Sometimes, silence said enough.

****

By nighttime, the house was set for the big day although not completely. The decorators were still moving things around outside, voices drifting in through the open windows, the faint scrape of furniture against concrete. Tomorrow was finally the day I wouldn’t be alone again after my mother passed away ten years ago.

My soon-to-be stepmother was already with the women, so Ava and Ashley were with her. It was their ladies’ night. My father was in the backyard, having a barbecue with some old friends. Soon, I’d join him.

I went to Louisiana’s room to check if she was already asleep. I had instructed one of the maids earlier to make sure she slept on time, but I knew Louisiana too well. She sometimes pretended. And tonight, the house was too lively.

When I got to her door, I noticed it was slightly ajar. Just like I’d thought.

But as I was about to step in, I stopped in the doorway.

Ashley was inside, reading a bedtime story, her voice low and steady. Louisiana was already fast asleep, her small body curled into the sheets, breathing soft and even.

I stood there, watching her sleep peacefully. Even Ava struggled to get her to sleep this quietly.

Ashley turned a page, her fingers brushing lightly over the paper, and something in my chest tightened. If not for Ava, we would have been a happy family. Louisiana might have been ours. She would have been my wife.

She looked so f*****g natural, like she was Louisiana’s real mother.

She finished the story and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Louisiana’s forehead before switching off the light. The room dimmed, shadows settling into the corners.

Then she turned, brushing her hair back, and stopped when she saw me.

She held my gaze for a brief moment before walking out, closing the door carefully behind her so it wouldn’t creak.

Without a word, she started down the hallway, her footsteps quiet against the floor. My voice stopped her.

“You did a really good job putting her to bed,” I said softly.

She paused, glanced at me over her shoulder like she had nothing to say, then kept walking.

This time, I didn’t stop her. Watching her leave pulled me back to the airport. Sometimes, I wished I could go back and change things.

I went to my bedroom to grab something before joining my dad. Ava’s phone, lying on the bedside table, began to ring, sharp and sudden in the quiet room.

At first, I ignored it. But when the screen lit up, my eyes caught the name, and I slowed.

William.

A faint crease formed between my brows.

Wasn't William Ashley's fiancé?

How the hell had he gotten her number?