Leaving The Billionaire Who Loved His Ex

Ava POV

Napa Valley smelled of sun-baked dust and crushed sugar.

It was a sharp contrast to the metallic tang of New York. Here, the sun was gold, not grey.

I secured a job at a small, boutique winery called 'The Golden Hour'.

The owner was a man named Liam.

Liam was the antithesis of Ethan. He was quiet. He had rough hands stained with grape skins and rich soil. He wore flannel shirts and listened far more than he spoke.

He didn't ask about my past. He didn't ask why a woman with a Manhattan wardrobe was applying to scrub fermentation tanks.

He just looked at my hands, then my eyes.

"Can you work hard?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Then you're hired."

I rented a small cottage from a woman named Mrs. Davis. She brought me fresh bread every morning and treated me like a stray cat she was nursing back to health.

Then I met Sophia, Liam's younger sister. She was loud and funny and dragged me to farmers' markets whether I wanted to go or not.

For the first time in years, I wasn't holding my breath.

I started taking photos again. Not of parties or hollow galas, but of the vines. Of the way the light hit the hills at sunset. Of the cracked earth.

One afternoon, I was labeling bottles in the cellar.

Liam came in. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me work.

"You're good at this," he said.

"It's just stickers," I said, not looking up.

"I'm not talking about the labeling," he said. "The seeing. I saw the photos you took for the website. You see things other people miss."

I paused, my hand hovering over a bottle. Ethan used to tell me I was blind to the way the world worked.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"You're hiding from something," Liam said. It wasn't an accusation. It was simply an observation.

I put down the bottle. "Yes."

"That's okay," he said. He pushed off the doorframe. "Whatever it is, it can't find you here unless you let it."

He walked away.

I felt a warmth in my chest that didn't hurt.

I walked out of the cellar and into the vineyard. The sun was setting. The sky was a bruised purple streaked with fire.

I took a deep breath.

I was Ava. I was twenty-six. I was alone.

And for the first time in my life, I was free.

I remained blissfully unaware that, three thousand miles away, Ethan Sterling was tearing his office apart.

I didn't know he was screaming my name at a terrified assistant.

I didn't know he had just read the diary entry where I wrote: I am not a replacement. I am the end.

I just watched the sun go down, and I smiled.