---- Chapter 19 Liam appeared behind Ava, putting a protective arm around her shoulders. He'd heard everything. He pulled her close, kissing her temple. Their silent solidarity was a stark contrast to Ethan's desperate isolation. Ethan stood on the doorstep, the imprint of Ava's hand burning on his cheek, her final, cold words echoing in his ears. Mrs. Liam Carter. He stumbled away, the world a blur of pain and disbelief. He went to a bar. Then another. He drank until he couldn't feel anything, or at least, until he thought he couldn't. But the pain was still there, a gnawing emptiness that alcohol couldn't fill His household staff, the ones who still remained at the Tribeca loft, found him passed out on the floor the next morning. They expressed concern, tried to get him to eat, to see a doctor. He lashed out. "Leave me alone! Don't you understand? She's gone! Ava's gone! She won't even talk to me!" His voice was a raw, broken sound. He wanted her attention, even if it was her anger, her pity. Anything but her indifference. He continued to drink, to spiral. He neglected his work, his health. He was a ghost haunting his own life. One night, after a particularly heavy bout of drinking, he collapsed. He lay on the cold marble floor of his bathroom, his ---- body wracked with tremors. He hallucinated. Ava was there, her face soft with concern, just like she used to be when he was sick. She was stroking his forehead, murmuring soothing words, telling him everything would be alright. He could almost feel her cool hand, smell her familiar scent. Then, the hallucination flickered, faded. He was alone. The Ava who cared, who worried, who forgave - she was a figment of his desperate imagination. She was gone. Truly gone. The realization was a fresh wave of agony. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers clumsy. He needed to hear her voice. He needed... help. He dialed her number, the one he knew by heart, the one that was probably blocked again. It rang. Once. Twice. Then, a voice answered. Not Ava's. Liam's. Cold, steady, and laced with a distinct note of mocking triumph. "Ethan? To what do we owe the honor of your drunken call at this ungodly hour?" Ethan's heart plummeted. "Liam... | need to speak to Ava... please..." Liam chuckled, a low, mirthless sound. "Ava? Mrs. Carter, you mean? She's rather... indisposed at the moment, little brother. We were just enjoying a quiet evening. You understand." The implication was clear, a deliberate twist of the knife. "Please, Liam..." Ethan begged, his voice barely a whisper. "m ---- .. 'm not well." "Not well?" Liam's voice hardened. "You brought this on yourself, Ethan. Every last bit of it. Ava is happy. She's finally free of you. And frankly, so am |. Now, if you'll excuse us, my wife needs her rest." The line went dead. Ethan stared at the silent phone, the finality of Liam's words, of Ava's silence, crashing down on him. He was utterly alone. He collapsed again, the darkness welcoming. He woke up in the hospital. Again. The sterile environment was becoming sickeningly familiar.