---- Chapter 9 9 The flight to Austin was a blur. As the plane lifted off from JFK, leaving New York behind, | felt a lightness | hadn't experienced in years. A shedding of skin. A rebirth. Ava Miller. Architect. Starting over. It sounded... good. Miles away, in a plush SoHo hotel room, Ethan Cole woke with a gasp. A sharp, inexplicable pain shot through his chest, so intense it stole his breath. He clutched his heart. "Ava," he choked out, though he didn't know why. Chloe stirred beside him, her arm slung possessively across his waist. "Ethan? Baby? What's wrong?" she murmured sleepily. "Nothing," he said, his voice rough. "Bad dream." But the pain lingered. An ache. A premonition. Chloe snuggled closer, pressing her lips to his shoulder. "Don't leave me, Ethan. Stay. | need you." Her voice was soft, manipulative. He felt a familiar pull. The ingrained need to protect her, to soothe her. ---- But underneath it, a new, unsettling feeling. Restlessness. He stared at the ceiling, the pre-dawn light filtering through the expensive curtains. The image of Ava's face, pale and strained at the cemetery, flashed in his mind. He'd told her to get a cab. He hadn't even checked if she got home okay. He'd been so consumed by Chloe's "accident" - which turned out to be a minor fender bender where she was entirely at fault and trying to charm her way out of a ticket. He pushed Chloe's arm away gently. "| have to go, Chlo. Business." He needed to get home. To see Ava. He didn't know why, but a sudden urgency gripped him. Chloe pouted, trying to pull him back. "But Ethaaan, stay. We can order room service. Watch movies." "Not now, Chloe." His voice was firm. Firmer than usual with her. He got dressed quickly, ignoring her protests. He drove back to their apartment, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach He let himself in. "Ava?" he called out. Silence. The apartment felt... wrong. Empty. ---- He walked through the rooms. Her side of the closet was bare. Her toiletries were gone from the bathroom. Her sketches, her books, her architectural models... all gone. A cold dread started to creep up his spine. No. She wouldn't. They argued. She got upset. She'd even gone to her mother's for a night or two in the past. But she always came back. She loved him. Didn't she? He tried to reassure himself. She was probably just at Sarah's. Cooling off. He'd call her later. Apologize. Smooth things over. Like he always did. The housekeeper, Maria, came in for her weekly cleaning, "Good morning, Mr. Cole." She looked surprised to see him. "Maria, have you seen Mrs. Cole?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "No, Mr. Cole. Not since... a few days ago." She looked down. "She left some boxes for charity. And your golf clubs by the door." His golf clubs? His phone rang. Chloe. Again. "Ethan! That horrible woman, Ava! She's trying to ruin me!" "What are you talking about, Chloe?" "She called the restaurant, screaming at my staff! Saying I'm ---- a home-wrecker! That | staged the fire! Can you believe her?" Ethan sighed. Ava wouldn't do that. It wasn't her style. Chloe was probably exaggerating. Or lying. But the familiar reflex kicked in. Protect Chloe. "Okay, Chloe, calm down. I'll handle it." "You need to talk to her, Ethan! Make her stop!" "| will," he said, though a part of him doubted Chloe's story. He hung up. He told Maria, "If Mrs. Cole returns, tell her... tell her she needs to apologize to Ms. Vance." Maria just nodded, her expression unreadable. He grabbed his keys again. He had to go to Chloe. His drive to her hotel was reckless. He ran two red lights. His mind was a mess. Ava. Chloe. The strange emptiness in the apartment. The lingering pain in his chest. What the hell was going on? He burst into Chloe's suite. She was there, perfectly fine, sipping a mimosa, surrounded by Mark and David. They were laughing. Chloe looked up, feigning surprise. "Ethan! You came!" She wasn't hysterical. She wasn't being harassed. She'd played him. Again.