Chapter 2

I thought I was going to die.

But the will to live, or maybe the will to make him pay, kept me breathing.

On the fourth day a second rescue team found me.

I had fractures all through my body and internal bleeding, and I was deep in a coma by the time they carried me out.

I spent three months in the hospital.

The moment I woke up, I reached for the news.

On every channel, Michael was painted as the picture of a devoted hero.

His ten-million-dollar donation and his personal trip into the disaster zone were running on every channel.

In every clip he was cradling a frail Vivian with his eyes full of concern.

A reporter asked him, "Mr. Grant, we understand your wife, Emily Carter, was lost in the disaster as well. How are you holding up?"

Michael looked into the camera and squeezed out a few tears.

"I loved her more than anything. If I could trade my life for hers, I'd do it today."

I looked at that lying face on the screen and laughed until the tears came.

My stitches felt like they were tearing open, and that pain was nothing next to what was happening in my chest.

The day I was discharged, I did two things.

First, I went to the bank and pulled the records on the joint account I had shared with Michael.

Every dollar had been moved out three days after my death, down to the last cent.

Second, I went to city hall.

I wasn't there to file for divorce.

I was there to make sure the death certificate with my name on it stayed exactly where it was.

Emily Carter had died in that earthquake, in the second Michael turned his back on her.

From that day on there was no Emily Carter anywhere in the world, only Ava Carter.

The name I gave myself.

Emily was gone. All that was left was Ava.

With the little savings I had left, I left that city behind for good.

I went abroad.

I studied finance, I studied management, and I studied anything else that could make me harder to break.

I worked around the clock, and whenever I was too tired to go on, I made myself think about that day.

I thought about his back walking away, and I thought about his voice saying the helicopter could only take one more.

Hate turned out to be the best stimulant I ever found.

I got onto Wall Street and started at the very bottom as an analyst.

I had a frightening feel for the market and a work ethic that bordered on self-destruction, and I climbed one rung at a time.

I barely slept, because every time I closed my eyes, I saw the rubble, and I saw him holding another woman.

It took me five years.

I went from a survivor with nothing to a name that could move a market.

I founded my own investment firm.

I named it New Dawn Investments.

That was where my revenge started.

I went home, and my first stop was Michael's company, Grant Innovations.

For five years he had run on the business plan I wrote for him and on the devoted-hero story the disaster handed him, and the company had grown without a single stumble. It was weeks away from going public.

He could never have guessed that his biggest problem was already on her way back.

I set a meeting with the leadership of Grant Innovations as the founder of Nova Capital, an overseas investment firm.

We met in their conference room, where I took a seat at the head of the table and studied the projection on the far wall.

It showed Grant Innovations' financial statements, which were riddled with holes.

My assistant leaned down and spoke close to my ear.

"Ms. Carter, Mr. Grant is here."

I didn't look up, and I kept swirling the coffee in my cup.

The conference room door opened.

I heard footsteps I knew and no longer knew.

It had been five years, and the sound of him could still turn my stomach.