My Success Is The Best Revenge, Darling
It took seven years for Ethan to convince me I was the center of his universe, and exactly seven weeks for his "business partner," Chloe, to prove I was just a placeholder.
I was the woman who ironed his shirts and managed his schedule, yet she was the one he comforted at 2 AM.
But the real end didn't come with a fight. It came with an explosion.
At a family gathering, a gas heater malfunctioned. Glass shattered, and fire erupted. In that split second of life or death, Ethan didn't look for me.
He threw his body over Chloe.
He shielded her from the flames, cocooning her in his arms, whispering frantically to her while I stood twenty feet away, watching my boyfriend of seven years act like I didn't exist.
When I confronted him later, he didn't apologize. Instead, he let Chloe carve her initials over ours on our anniversary tree.
When I tried to stop them, he shoved me into the dirt to comfort her over a broken nail.
"You are dead to me, Ava," he screamed. "Jealousy makes you ugly."
He thought I would beg. He thought I was an appliance he could unplug and plug back in whenever he wanted. He was arrogant enough to believe I would always be there, waiting for his scraps.
He was wrong.
While he was playing hero to his mistress, I didn't cry.
I booked a one-way ticket to Portland, snapped my SIM card in half, and vanished.
By the time he realized the silence in his apartment wasn't peace, but abandonment, I was already gone.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 5
Ava POV
My fingers closed around the ticket. I ripped it from his grip with a force that seemed to shock the air out of the room.
"Do not touch my things," I hissed.
Ethan looked at his empty hand, then at me. His eyes widened. He wasn't used to resistance. He was bred for compliance.
"You are acting crazy," he said, smoothing the lapels of his suit jacket. "I was just looking at it."
"You were going to destroy it," I said, tucking the ticket securely into my bra. "Just like you destroy everything else."
"You can't leave," he said, his voice dropping to that patronizing tone he used when he wanted to manage me. "Who will handle the taxes next month? Who is going to deal with the contractors for the rental property?"
I laughed. It was a dry, sharp sound, devoid of humor.
"Hire someone, Ethan. I am not your employee."
"You are my power of attorney on those accounts," he argued, stepping closer. "You can't just walk away."
"Watch me."
I pulled out my phone and dialed my lawyer's number. It was late, but I knew his voicemail would timestamp the message.
"This is Ava," I said, staring directly into Ethan's eyes. "I am formally terminating my power of attorney for Ethan Miller, effective immediately. I am also resigning as the agent for Miller Holdings. I will sign the papers in the morning."
I hung up.
Ethan's mouth hung open. "You... you can't do that. The refinancing is next week. I need your signature."
"Figure it out," I said.
Just then, a shrill scream echoed from the hallway like a siren.
"Ethan! Help!"
It was Chloe.
Ethan's head snapped toward the door. For a second, he hesitated. He looked at me, then at the door, caught between his asset and his obsession.
"Ethan! I think I broke a nail! It hurts!"
The absurdity of it was almost funny.
"Go," I said. "Duty calls."
"We are not done," Ethan growled, pointing a finger at me. "Do not get on that plane."
He turned and ran toward the scream.
I walked out of the room. I walked out of the house.
I saw them in the hallway. Chloe was holding her hand like it was a war wound. Ethan was cooing over her, inspecting her finger with the intensity of a surgeon saving a limb. He was completely absorbed.
He had forgotten I existed the moment she made a sound.
I walked past them. They didn't look up.
I got into my car and drove to my parents' house. I packed two suitcases in record time.
Before I left, I opened my social media one last time.
Ethan had posted a photo. It was him and Chloe, uploaded five minutes ago. She was holding up her bandaged finger. He was kissing her forehead.
Caption: My brave girl. Nothing else matters but you.
He posted it to hurt me. To make me jealous. To make me stay and fight for his attention.
I looked at the screen.
I waited for the pain. I waited for the anger.
But there was nothing. Just a quiet, vast ocean of indifference.
I didn't feel like fighting. I didn't feel like crying.
I felt like water. Still. Calm.
I deleted the app. I took the SIM card out of my phone and snapped it in half.
I drove to the airport. I sat at the gate, watching the sun begin to rise over the tarmac.
The boarding call came.
"Passenger Ava," the agent said as she scanned my ticket. "One way to Portland?"
"Yes," I said.
I walked down the jet bridge. I didn't look back at the city. I didn't look back at the life I was leaving.
I stepped onto the plane. The door sealed behind me with a heavy, final thud.
I was gone.