AVA'S POV
Some storms aren't loud. They don't always come with lightning or thunder.
Sometimes, they arrive as quiet tension in a husband's voice. A shift in his smile. A glance that lingers too long at a closed door.
That's how I knew something was wrong.
It wasn't what Ethan said, it was what he didn't. The space between his words. The way he held our daughter just a little tighter than usual. The way his eyes lingered on me longer at night, as if trying to memorize peace before it was stolen again.
I tried not to panic.
After the press conference, I returned to the foundation to face the board's cautious optimism and an inbox flooded with requests for clarifications. The whistleblower's accusations hadn't entirely vanished, but with the firm statement I delivered and the documents Melanie provided, we'd managed to control the narrative. At least, publicly.
Privately? That was a different story.
