Chapter: The Day It All Changed
Avery opened her eyes, blinking against the soft sunlight filtering through the cream lace curtains. For a moment, disorientation clutched her chest like a vice. She inhaled slowly, waiting for the sting of death or the confusion of the afterlife. But what greeted her was the gentle scent of lavender-scented linen and the muted hum of the air-conditioning.
Her gaze swept across the room—the blush pink walls with vintage gold moldings, the crystal chandelier above, the corner bookshelf stacked with dog-eared novels and a tiny plush rabbit perched on top. Her vanity table gleamed under the soft light, adorned with pastel bottles of perfume and lipsticks in every shade she used to love. A painting of a young girl twirling under cherry blossoms hung above her bed, a gift from her mother long ago. It was her room.
Her sanctuary.
Her past.
The very room she had abandoned in a whirlwind of tears and defiance the night she stormed out after arguing with her father about her engagement to Cassian.
It was like time had folded back on itself.
"No way..." she whispered.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the phone resting on the nightstand. The familiar weight of it felt surreal in her palm. She tapped the screen. The date stared back at her, unmistakably real.
It was that day.
The day she severed the fragile bond with her brother. The day she let Cassian's lies corrode her family like acid.
She slowly sank onto the edge of the bed, pressing her palm to her forehead. Memories surged like an unforgiving tide—Cassian whispering poison in her ear that morning, telling her her brother was jealous, controlling, manipulative. That he didn't want her happy. That he hated Cassian.
And when her brother, in his usual stern but concerned way, had asked her to reconsider… she'd exploded. She said things she couldn't take back. Things that carved distance between them that never healed.
After that, he stopped calling.
Stopped visiting.
He became a stranger she used to know.
Avery's chest ached with guilt. "I was such a fool," she muttered, her voice cracking. "So blind…"
But no more.
This time… this time would be different.
She rose with renewed purpose and headed into the en-suite bathroom. The warm steam from the shower enveloped her like a comforting embrace. As she scrubbed her skin clean, she felt like she was washing away more than just grime—she was scrubbing away years of mistakes, betrayal, and heartbreak.
When she stepped out, the mirror greeted her with a foggy reflection, and yet… her eyes looked different now. Sharper. Clearer.
She toweled her hair and moved to her closet. No more soft pastels or frilly innocence. Today, she needed poise and power. She selected a cream-colored satin blouse with gold buttons that shimmered under light and paired it with high-waisted black trousers that elongated her figure. She added a tailored beige trench coat that cinched at the waist with a sleek belt. For accessories, she chose delicate gold hoops and a thin chain bracelet—a minimalist elegance. Her hair she tied into a low ponytail, letting a few curls fall around her face.
She looked into the mirror once more, steeling her nerves.
"Time to fix everything."
Downstairs, the clink of cutlery and the murmur of voices greeted her.
She descended the grand staircase slowly, her hand brushing along the polished wooden banister. The foyer gleamed in warm sunlight, and the familiar scent of brewing coffee wafted from the kitchen. She spotted them at the dining table—her father, Declan Vale, sitting at the head in his usual crisp morning suit, reading the newspaper; and beside him, her older brother, Elias, sipping orange juice, his eyes trained on his phone.
Both men she had loved.
Both men she had hurt.
Taking a breath, she walked toward them, pulling out her chair with a deliberate grace.
"Good morning," she said softly.
Her voice pierced the morning calm.
Both heads turned toward her.
Elias blinked, startled. Her father raised an eyebrow slightly, suspicion flickering in his gaze.
Avery sat down quietly and began to eat, mimicking the events of that day, but with one vital difference—this time, she acknowledged them. She greeted them. She saw them.
Elias didn't say anything. He just kept looking at her with mild confusion, then back to his plate. Declan, however, remained impassive.
She swallowed her last bite, then rose, walking slowly toward her father.
"Dada," she said.
Declan lowered his paper, his brow furrowing.
"Get up," she said.
He blinked, hesitating. "What now?" he muttered, clearly expecting some drama or outrageous demand.
But as he stood, he was utterly unprepared for what happened next.
Avery threw her arms around him, hugging him tight—tight like she never wanted to let go. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his suit. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and her heart thudded loudly in her ears.
"I'm sorry, Dada," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I always brought trouble to you. I always pushed you away. But I'll be better now. I promise."
Declan froze.
Elias looked up, his jaw slack.
Avery pulled back quickly, not daring to look into either of their eyes. If she did, her tears would spill over.
"I have to go," she said quickly, turning on her heel. "There's something I need to do."
She left the house without another word.
Behind her, Declan and Elias exchanged baffled glances.
"Do you know what's going on with your sister?" Declan asked.
Elias shook his head slowly, still stunned. "Not a clue.
---
Avery walked into the café with a racing heart, the scent of roasted coffee beans making her stomach churn—not from hunger, but from anticipation.
It was the same place. The same day.
She had relived this moment once before… arriving late, Cassian waving at her like nothing was wrong, Laila already gone. She hadn't known then. But now, she did. She knew this was the place where Cassian and Laila met for their secret "coffee date" before she arrived. Just this much was mentioned in that novel but she believed there was more to this "date" They had.
The memory made her fists clench.
This time, she was early. Very early.
She wore a beige wool beret that covered her hair and dark-tinted sunglasses to shield her face. She slid into a corner booth with her back facing the entrance. The moment was fast approaching.
And then they arrived.
Cassian, with his cocky grin and expensive cologne that made her want to gag, sauntered in with Laila clinging to his arm like a lovestruck teenager.
They looked every bit the doting couple.
"What do you want to drink, baby?" Cassian said in that syrupy voice he used to con her, too.
Avery's gut twisted.
Baby? That same endearment he used on her—used on Laila too.
She kept still, straining to hear.
"I'll have the hazelnut latte," Laila said sweetly. "Like always. You remembered, didn't you?"
"Of course," Cassian chuckled. "I remember everything about you."
Avery resisted the urge to scream. Her hands balled into fists in her lap, nails digging into her palms.
The laughter, the soft whispers, the subtle brushing of hands—all of it made her want to storm over and slap the truth out of both of them. But this wasn't the right time.
Not yet.
She had to know more.
She had to confirm what she suspected.
What exactly were they plotting that day? What words would they exchange before they played her like a fool?
She leaned closer, careful not to draw attention.
The nauseating sweetness of their voice seeped into Avery's ears like poison wrapped in silk.
------
She had endured their flirting long enough—the pet names, the forced giggles, the sighs of faux affection that turned her stomach inside out. Her grip on her coffee cup tightened, knuckles pale with restraint. If she rolled her eyes any harder, they might fall out of her skull.
She was seconds away from giving up and walking out—surely she had already heard enough—when Laila's voice rose just a notch too high, panicked and shrill.
"Baby, did my brother see us together yesterday? What if he tells my sister? Then our plan will go down the drain!"
Avery's breath hitched. Plan?
Every muscle in her body froze, her heart hammering against her ribcage like a war drum.
Cassian's voice followed with a confident drawl, laced with arrogance, as if this was all a game he had already won.
"Don't worry, baby. He didn't see us clearly. And even if he suspects and tells Avery something... I'll make sure that's the last time he ever talks to his sister."
He took a long, leisurely sip from his drink—a tall glass of iced Americano, the kind he always pretended to enjoy for its "mature bitterness," though he used to load it with sugar the moment no one was looking. The sound of the straw scraping against the ice sent a shiver down Avery's spine.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her body to stay rooted in place.
"But baby," Laila pressed, her voice softening to that annoying, simpering tone that always made Avery feel like nails were scratching glass, "you have to get engaged to her. Otherwise, how will you become the heir to her family's estate?"
The air in Avery's lungs vanished.
Her fingers went cold.
Heir?
Her mind reeled as memories flooded her like a sudden tidal wave.
That day. The day she fought viciously with her brother, only to run into Cassian's arms, crying and broken. He had stroked her hair, whispered sweet lies into her ears, told her her brother envied her happiness and wanted her inheritance for himself. She had believed him—oh, how she had believed him.
Cassian had said he would protect her.
And she—like a naïve little fool—had promised to name him her legal heir. All to keep herself safe from the very person who had loved her most.
Avery's lips trembled. She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw ached.
Her brother had never cared about the family business. He had his own path—an internationally celebrated musician, a prodigy whose fingers danced across piano keys and hearts alike. He never wanted the company, never asked for a dime of their father's wealth. That was why their father, Declan Vale, had entrusted everything to Avery. The estate. The companies. The legacy.
And she?
She'd been willing to hand it over to a snake in human skin.
Avery reached for the water glass on her table and gulped it down like a lifeline, barely registering its coolness as it rushed down her throat. Her ears rang. Her thoughts were a blur of rage, guilt, and disgust.
Behind her, the betrayal kept unraveling like a poisoned thread.
"Don't worry, baby," Cassian said again, his voice smug and oozing with confidence, "we'll get what we deserve. Once we have that money, we'll live the life we've always dreamed of. Today, I'll make sure Avery's heart is filled with pure malice for her brother. When he warns her about me, she'll think he's just trying to sabotage her again. Boom. She'll fall right into my trap."
Laila giggled, low and seductive, like this was all a steamy drama and not a woman's life they were tearing apart. She leaned in closer, letting her fingers trail across Cassian's hand.
Avery had heard enough.
She rose from her chair, her movement fluid and silent, like a shadow slipping through sunlight. She kept her head low, her face still hidden by her sunglasses and hat, and exited the café without looking back.
Her heart was pounding, not with despair, but with something far more dangerous—clarity.
They thought she was still the same gullible girl they could manipulate like a puppet on strings.
They had always acted so nicely in front of her and now it was time for her to show her acting skills.