Deception in his arms

Chapter Three

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Mr. Rai knelt slowly before Ava, a fatherly look settling on his face. So carefully crafted, it could fool anyone.

But not Ava.

He took her wounded hand gently, plucking a cloth from the coffee table to dab away the blood. His touch was light, too light, and Ava’s gut twisted with unease. She watched him through narrowed eyes.

Then he leaned in—too close—and whispered so only she could hear.

“You think that hurts?” he murmured, his hand squeezing her palm just enough to send a sting through her cut. “That’s nothing compared to what I can do to everyone you love.”

Ava flinched, trying to pull away, but he held firm.

“Your little friend Diane, those orphan brats you care for, that blind old woman who still thinks you’re her daughter. One word from me, and they disappear. Do you understand?”

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Not in front of him.

“And your mother,” he added. “She’s alive.”

Ava’s heart nearly stopped.

“She didn’t die like you were told. She's alive… hidden far away. But I know where. And if you do exactly what I say—marry Ethan Todd—I’ll tell you where to find her.”

Ava’s lips parted slightly. Her eyes searched his for the lie… but she didn’t find one. He was too smug. Too sure.

“You’re lying,” she signed weakly with one hand.

Mr. Rai smiled. “Then call my bluff. Walk away. And never know if your mother is out there waiting for you.”

Ava’s shoulders sagged, her resistance crumbling. She looked down at her bleeding palm still held in his grasp.

Then she nodded.

Defeated.

Compliant.

Broken.

From behind, Olivia clapped once. “Well, finally.”

Helena’s satisfied smile stretched wide, graceful as always. “See? We knew she’d come around.”

Everything had already been prepared—flowers, dresses, the venue, even the marriage license. They had known she'd break eventually. Her choice had never mattered.

Ava got up and slowly walked into her room.

The room was as she had always known it—bare, suffocating, cold. A single bed, cracked tiles, and faded curtains that hadn’t been changed in years. Her sanctuary and her prison.

She sat at the edge of the bed, staring at her bandaged hand, replaying her father’s words over and over.

Her mother was alive.

She was getting married.

To Ethan Todd.

She barely knew him. Only the whispers—mafia, dangerous, ruthless. A man with shadows darker than the Rai family’s own secrets.

She didn’t want to know more. It was safer that way.

There was a knock, followed by the sound of footsteps.

Two maids entered, carrying an assortment of wedding dresses in delicate garment bags.

“Madam Helena said to pick a dress that has gloves,” one of them said without emotion. “To hide your… injury.”

Ava didn’t respond.

“What about this one?” the other maid asked, holding up a modest ivory gown with long lace gloves.

Ava slowly raised her hand and signed: Pick any.

The maids exchanged a glance but said nothing. They chose the ivory one and left.

Ava stared at the closed door after they were gone. Her thoughts drifted to Diane.

Should I tell her?

She wanted to. So badly. But she could already imagine Diane’s rage, her refusal to let this go quietly. And if Diane got involved… she might end up hurt.

Ava bit her lip.

No. She couldn’t risk it.

Ava curled up in the corner of the cold room, the thin wedding gown draped across the bed like a ghost waiting to swallow her whole. The silence was heavy, except for the soft hum of the old wall clock ticking away the hours of a life she didn’t choose.

Her eyes drifted shut, and the world around her faded.

Then—warmth.

Soft fabric. A gentle breeze. Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, dancing like fireflies across a wooden floor.

And there she was.

A woman with warm brown eyes, hair like black silk tumbling over her shoulders, humming softly as she brushed Ava’s hair in long, patient strokes.

Ava sat on a small stool, her tiny legs swinging as her mother gently untangled the knots.

"You have the prettiest hair," her mother whispered, planting a kiss on her head. "But it’s wild—just like you."

Ava giggled without sound, her smile bright. She turned to look at her mother, eyes twinkling, and signed something with small, unsure fingers.

‘I love you.’

Her mother smiled, kneeling to her level.

“I love you more,” she whispered. “More than the stars. More than the sky. And nothing—nothing—will ever take you away from me.”

Ava reached for her mother’s face, her tiny hands cupping her cheeks. The scent of hibiscus lingered on her skin, sweet and familiar.

The world back then had been so full of color. And warmth. And love.

But it all changed.

The breeze stilled. The curtains stopped dancing. And her mother’s smile slowly faded into the dark—

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Ava jolted awake, gasping soundlessly, her heart pounding. The dim light of her room greeted her with cold silence.

Her fingers trembled as they brushed against the bandage on her palm. Her gaze fell on the wedding dress. Ivory white. Lifeless.

She brought her knees to her chest.

If there was even the smallest chance her mother was alive...

Then this sacrifice might be worth it.

She would endure it. One more day. One more breath.

Just for her.

Ava blinked awake, startled by the soft creak of the door. She thought it was still the same day—until the bright light bleeding through the curtains told her otherwise.

The next morning had already arrived.

A maid walked in gently, curtsying. “Good morning, Miss Ava. It’s time to get ready.”

Ava sat up slowly, her heart skipping. Had she really slept through the entire day? Her fingers fumbled for her phone on the bedside table. Dozens of missed calls and messages blinked up at her, all from one name:

Diane.

The texts started calm, then grew frantic.

“Ava, what’s going on?”

“Why aren’t you picking up?”

“I came to the mansion. They wouldn’t let me in. Are you okay?”

“Ava, please say something.”

Ava clutched the phone to her chest, guilt tightening around her like the dress she hadn’t worn yet. But she didn’t reply.

She couldn’t.

After a silent shower, Ava let the maids help her dress. She barely noticed their chatter as they zipped up the delicate gown and pinned the veil into her hair. Makeup brushes swirled across her skin, jewel boxes opened and closed, and shoes clicked softly against the marble floor.

Lisa, the quiet maid who’d always been kind to her, leaned in while adjusting Ava’s necklace.

“Miss Diane came earlier this morning,” she whispered, glancing nervously at the door. “She was crying… but they wouldn’t let her in.”

Ava’s hands clenched in her lap. The thought of Diane crying outside while she sat here like a doll being dressed for sacrifice made her chest burn.

She wanted to assure Diane she was fine. That she had a plan.

But before she could reach for her phone again, the door opened—and everything in the room shifted.

Helena Rai swept in, dressed in an emerald silk gown, her steps precise and composed. Olivia followed behind, dressed like it was her own wedding, her lips curled in a smirk.

“Well, at least she’s looking decent for once,” Olivia said, settling herself comfortably on the bed, staring at Ava through the mirror’s reflection. “I was wondering how you were going to say your vows though… what with the whole being mute thing.”

Helena laughed, not bothering to hide the cruelty. “Olivia, stop. We wouldn’t want our bride to cry and ruin all that expensive makeup.”

Ava didn’t flinch. She stared at her reflection—at the girl in the gown, covered in makeup and silence. A stranger with her eyes.

They kept talking, but their voices became background noise, like the soft instrumental music she could now hear echoing from the ceremonial hall. Everything felt distant. Blurred. As if she were watching someone else live this moment.

A soft knock came at the door.

A maid peeked in. “It’s time.”

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