Ave stood in front of the mirror, the red dress clinging to her dress. She'd spent the afternoon, thinking about her mother's photograph hidden beneath her mattress, still reminded of the warning behind the photo.
'Run.' But where? How? He controlled everything. Her therapist, her driver, probably her bank accounts.The house itself was a cage with invisible bars.
Downstairs, she heard voices. The clink of glasses meant the guests had arrived. Ave took a breath, smoothed down the dress, and descended the stairs.
The living room had been transformed. Soft lighting, expensive wine breathing on the sideboard, classical music playing low. And three men she'd never seen before, all in tailored suits, all watching her with the same interest.
Denise stood near the fireplace, a bourbon in hand. When he saw her, his smile was warm.
"Gentlemen, my wife, Ave."
She moved through the introductions. Smiled and shook hands. Made small talk about nothing while her mind screamed; "You knew my mother. You loved my mother. What did you do to her?"
Dinner felt worse. She sat at Denise's right, playing the perfect hostess while the men discussed things she wasn't supposed to understand the wire transfers, shell corporations, international acquisitions.
Kingship Holdings came up three times.
Each time, Denise's hand found her knee under the table. There was a reminder.
But Ave barely heard the conversation. She kept seeing that photograph. Her mother's laughing eyes. Denise's possessive arm around her shoulders.
"S & D. The Beginning.
What beginning? What end?"
"Mrs. Blanco, you're awfully quiet tonight."
Ave blinked. One of the men ; Chen, she thought his name was ….smiled at her expectantly.
"Just listening," she said smoothly.
"My husband's work is fascinating."
Denise's fingers tightened on her knee. Hard enough to bruise.
"My wife is being modest," he said, his voice pleasant. "She has quite the head for strategy. Don't you, darling?"
"I do my best," Ave replied carefully.
His thumb pressed into the soft flesh above her knee, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from flinching.The men left around ten. Denise walked them to the door, all handshakes and promises of future business.
Then the door closed.The silence that followed was suffocating. Ave stood in the middle of the living room, her heart hammering against her ribs, as Denise poured himself another drink.
He didn't look at her. Just swirled the bourbon, watching the liquid catch the light.
"You've been busy today," he said finally. His tone was conversational. Almost friendly.
Ave's hands curled into fists at her sides. "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" He took a sip, still not looking at her. "Leo said you were feeling unwell. A headache, was it?"
"Yes."
"Funny. You seemed perfectly fine at dinner."
Her pulse spiked. She forced herself to breathe normally. "It passed."
"Mm." He set the glass down and finally turned to face her. "You know what I find interesting, Ave? You're a terrible liar. You always have been. But you keep trying anyway."
She said nothing. There was nothing safe to say. He crossed the room slowly, deliberately, until he stood directly in front of her. Close enough that she could smell the bourbon on his breath.
"Ask me," he said softly.
"Ask you what?"
"Whatever question is burning a hole through that pretty head of yours. I can see it. You're about to explode with it."
Ave's throat tightened. This was a trap. Everything with Denise was a trap. But she couldn't stop herself.
"You knew my mother."
Denise smiled. Not the warm, public smile. The real one, cold and sharp.
"Yes," he said simply. "I did."
"How?"
"How?" He laughed, a cruel sound that made her flinch. "Ave, darling, I didn't just know your mother. I loved her."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"You... what?"
"Seraphina." He said her name like a prayer. Like a curse. "Beautiful, brilliant, utterly lethal Seraphina. She was my first real teacher."
Ave's mind reeled. Teacher? What did that mean?
"I don't understand."
"Of course you don't." He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with disturbing gentleness. "You don't remember anything, do you? That's the conditioning. It worked beautifully."
"What did you do to me?" Her voice shook.
"What did I do?" Denise's smile widened.
"Oh, Ave. I'm not the villain in this story. I'm just the custodian."
"Then who…."
The question died in her throat as his expression shifted. The amusement vanished, replaced by something colder and darker.
"You're asking too many questions," he said quietly.
"I deserve to know—"
The backhand came so fast she didn't see it coming. Pain exploded across her cheek, sharp and blinding. Ave stumbled, her knees buckling, and hit the floor hard. The taste of copper flooded her mouth.
She lay there, stunned, her ears ringing. Through the haze of pain, she heard Denise's footsteps which slowed down.
He crouched beside her, his face coming into view. Void of anger or emotion . Just coldness.
"The next question will cost you more, Ave." He said her name like it was a joke. Like it didn't really belong to her.
She pressed her hand to her bleeding lip, trying to focus through the pain. Denise stood, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. He walked toward the stairs, then paused. Looked back.
"Oh, and Ave?" His tone was casual. Like they were discussing dinner plans. "If you really want answers, ask your father why he really gave you to me."
The words didn't register at first. Then they hit her.
"Gave you to me."
Neither married nor courted but gave , just like a property.
Ave lay on the floor, her mind fracturing, as Denise's footsteps faded up the stairs.
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The bathroom tile felt cold against Ave's cheek. She'd crawled here after lying on the living room floor for what felt like hours, though it was probably only minutes. Her face throbbed. Her lip had finally stopped bleeding, but she could feel it swelling.
"Ask your father why he really gave you to me."
Ave pulled herself up using the sink, gripping the porcelain so hard her knuckles went white. Her reflection stared back, mascara smeared, lip split, a bruise already blooming across her cheekbone.
This was the face of someone who'd been "given away." She needed her phone. She stumbled back to the living room, every step sending fresh pain through her skull. Her clutch was still on the couch where she'd left it.
Inside, her phone's screen glowed. 11:47 PM. Ave scrolled through her contacts with shaking fingers, past Elena , past the handful of "friends" who were really just Denise's surveillance network.
And stopped at Dad.
She hadn't spoken to him in three years. Not since Denise had explained so patiently, so convincingly, that her father was dangerous. That he'd tried to hurt her once and that staying away was for her own protection.
Her finger hovered over the name.
What if Denise was upstairs right now, watching through some camera she'd never found? What if this was another test?
She pressed call and the line rang once. Twice. Three times.
Then a voice she barely remembered, rough with sleep and something else…. fear?
"Ave?"
The sound of her name in his voice broke something inside her.
"Why?" The word came out broken, raw. "Why did you give me to him?". Silence stretched so long she thought he'd hung up.
Then: "Jesus Christ. Ave, where are you? Are you at the house?"
"Answer the question." Her voice was stronger now, fueled by three years of confusion and tonight's revelation.
"I didn't give you to him." Her father's voice cracked. "I sold you to save your life."
The world tilted sideways.
"What?"
"They were going to activate you, baby. The people your mother worked for …. they found out you existed, and they were coming for you. Denise was the only one who could protect you. The only one with enough clearance to keep you dormant."
The words from the file.
"I don't understand." But even as she said it, fragments were shifting in her mind. The flashback in Elena's office. The way her hands knew things they shouldn't. The winter that never happened in California.
"Your mother...." Her father's breath hitched.
"Seraphina tried to get out. She tried to take you and disappear, but they found her. And they would've found you too if Denise hadn't..."
"Hadn't what? Married me? Monitored me? Turned my therapist into a spy?"
"Kept you alive," her father said quietly.
"Ave, listen to me very carefully. Whatever's happening right now, whatever made you call me after three years, you need to leave. Right now. Before..."
The line went dead. Ave stared at the phone. She hadn't hung up.
A chill crawled down her spine as she slowly turned around. Denise stood in the doorway.Just watching her with that same expression from earlier, like she was a specimen under glass. In his hand was another phone. One she'd never seen before.
He raised it slightly, showing her the screen. A recording app. Timer running.
He'd been listening to everything.
"Your father always was dramatic," Denise said calmly, pocketing the phone. "Sold you. Really. He signed a contract, Ave. There's a difference."
Ave's legs felt like water. "You... you wanted me to call him."
"Of course I did." He stepped into the room, and she instinctively backed up until she hit the wall. "You were going to keep digging until you found something. Better to control what you find."
"Control." The word tasted like blood. "Is that what you call this?"
"I call it protection." His voice was almost gentle. "Your mother couldn't be saved, Ave. She went rogue, broke protocol, and paid the price. But you….you could be different."
"Different how?"
He smiled. "Compliant."
Ave's hand moved before her brain caught up, reaching for the lamp on the side table…. Denise caught her wrist mid-swing. His grip was iron, crushing.
"There she is," he murmured, something almost like pride flickering in his eyes.
"There's Ravena."
The name hit her like a physical shock. Her body responded before her mind could process, her free hand moving in a strike pattern she didn't remember learning, aiming for his throat.
He blocked it easily.
"Muscle memory," he said, still holding both her wrists now. "Fascinating, isn't it? The body remembers even when the mind forgets."
Ave tried to wrench free, but he was stronger.
"Let me go."
"Not yet." He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Do you want to know the truth, Ave? The real truth?"
She stopped struggling and tried to still her heartbeat.
"Your mother didn't leave you that warning to help you escape." His voice was almost tender. "She left it to wake you up. And congratulations, darling ....it worked."
He released her wrists and stepped back. Ave stood frozen, her mind racing through implications she couldn't quite grasp.
"What do you mean, wake me up?"
Denise walked to the bar, poured himself another drink like they were having a normal conversation. "The conditioning was never meant to be permanent. Just long enough for you to forget who you were. What you were trained to do." He took a sip.
"But the triggers are still there. Waiting."
"Triggers for what?"
He smiled. "That's the question, isn't it?"
Then he pulled something from his pocket. A small device, no bigger than a remote control. His thumb hovered over a button.
"Your mother's biggest fear was that you'd become what she made you to be. My biggest fear..." He pressed the button. "....is that you won't."
Nothing happened. For a moment, Ave thought it was a bluff. Some sick mind game. But something inside her , something that had been sleeping stirred.
A single word echoed through her mind, spoken in a voice she almost remembered:
'Reaper.'
And everything went black.
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When Ave opened her eyes, she was still standing in the living room. Denise was on the floor, his drink shattered beside him, blood seeping from his nose.
Her knuckles ached. She looked down at her hands. They were steady. Positioned in a defensive stance she didn't remember taking.
"What—" Her voice came out different. Colder. "What did you do to me?"
Denise laughed, wiping blood from his face. Even injured, he looked triumphant.
"I didn't do anything, sweetheart." He pushed himself up on one elbow. "That was all you. Welcome back, Ravena."
The name didn't feel foreign anymore. It felt like coming home. And that terrified her more than anything else that had happened tonight. Because for those missing seconds, however long they'd been, she hadn't been Ave.
She'd been someone else entirely. Someone who knew exactly how to hurt him. Denise's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then back at her, his smile widening.
"And right on schedule." He turned the phone so she could see the screen.
A text from an unknown number:
"Asset confirmed active. Extraction team en route. ETA 6 minutes."
"Extraction?" Ave's voice cracked on the word. "What extraction?"
"Not mine, darling." Denise stood, brushing glass from his suit. "Theirs. The people your mother tried to run from. The ones who've been waiting twenty years for this exact moment."
He walked toward the stairs, pausing at the doorway.
"You have six minutes to decide, Ave. You can run, like your mother tried to. Or.. " He smiled.
".....you can finally remember what you're really capable of and fight back."
"I don't know how….."
"Yes," he said quietly.
"You do."
Then he was gone, his footsteps echoing up the stairs like he had all the time in the world.
Ave stood alone in the wreckage of the living room, her mother's photograph burning against her skin, six minutes on an invisible clock counting down.
Outside, she heard it, the low rumble of engines and multiple vehicles.
Coming closer.