Chapter 2 · The Promise We Buried

After the procedure, I went to the ocean.

I'd talked about it so many times over those ten years. I wanted a beach wedding.

Now I was lying on the bed in the yacht, waves of dull, lingering pain washing over me.

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Vivian.

Her voice dripped with smugness. "Could you pack Ryan's bags for his Isenland trip? I'll swing by later to pick them up."

She paused, then let out a little laugh. "Oh, and don't bother with his underwear. I got him new ones. He really likes the fit."

The cramping in my abdomen intensified. I bit down on my lip, hard, refusing to let a sound escape.

In the past, when Vivian took a jab at me like that, I'd completely lose it.

I'd call Ryan hysterically, demanding an explanation. Or I'd storm into HR and demand they fire her.

Just like that time last week, when she'd put on her faux-concerned act.

"Ava, you know what they say about having a baby? How does it ruin your body? Things get... loose down there. Ryan's probably worried about that. That's why he's never wanted me to go through it. Guess you get to take one for the team."

I lost it completely and trashed her office.

The commotion drew a swarm of reporters, all scrambling for the story.

Then the whole sordid affair was splashed across every headline.

Rumors and gossip ran wild.

With the company on the verge of an IPO, it was a devastating blow.

Ryan was a man known for his ruthlessness.

He demanded I clear Vivian's name immediately.

"If you keep stirring things up," he warned, his voice like ice, "the moment that baby is born, I'm taking it. You'll never see it again."

Between Vivian and me, he'd always chosen her.

*****

On the table beside the bed hung a painting of sunflowers.

My mother had painted it. I brought it from home.

She'd left me so many of her paintings, but over the years, I'd had to sell nearly all of them to pay off the debts. This was the only one left.

On those long, sleepless nights, just looking at it brought me a small measure of comfort.

I reached for it.

It fell to the floor with a soft thud.

Something slipped out from behind the canvas.

I forgot the pain and just stared. There, tucked behind it, were photos of Ryan from years ago, when he was young.

*****

He'd been just seventeen when my mother brought him home.

In the photo, he wore a faded old T-shirt. His back was ramrod straight, his young eyes sharp with a quiet defiance.

Back then, his back was still smooth, unmarked by the scars that would come later.

My mother paid for his entire college education.

After graduation, I joined the family business. I was smart and worked hard. My future should have been bright.

But then, my father, a lifelong philanderer, dropped dead in the arms of one of his mistresses.

Out of the woodwork came all his illegitimate children, the ones we'd never even known existed. They descended on the family fortune like wolves.

I was totally blindsided.

In the end, I was left with a shell of a company, barely ten employees, and a mountain of debt so massive it felt insurmountable.

Then my mother had a heart attack and collapsed.

We couldn't afford a real hospital.

We ended up at this small clinic, where she barely hung on with nothing but the most basic medication.

But Ryan was there. I yelled at him, told him to go, but he wouldn't leave.

The debt collectors were relentless. They were everywhere, hounding us no matter where we hid.

We were always on the run, always terrified.

Sometimes, when they'd corner us in some alley, he would pull me tight against him and cover my eyes with his hand. "Don't be scared," he'd whisper. "Don't look."

Those scars were all from back then.

We made it through those brutal two years and paid off every last penny.

The company finally started to turn around.

One day, I carefully broached the subject. "Shouldn't we think about getting married?"

He froze for a second, then grinned and ruffled my hair. "What's the rush? It's not the right time yet. Just wait a little longer. Let me save up, buy you the biggest ring, give you the wedding you deserve."

He leaned in and kissed me. "Relax. You're the only one for me. Who else would it be?"

After that, however, he was out all the time. It was always business dinners and late nights.

Then came the new secretary, Vivian.

She started worming her way into every corner of his life.

By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.

We argued over and over again.

I gave him an ultimatum: either let Vivian go, or marry me.

He just stayed quiet and made no choice.

The disappointment inside me just kept piling up.

Chapter 2

After the procedure, I went to the ocean.

I'd talked about it so many times over those ten years. I wanted a beach wedding.

Now I was lying on the bed in the yacht, waves of dull, lingering pain washing over me.

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Vivian.

Her voice dripped with smugness. "Could you pack Ryan's bags for his Isenland trip? I'll swing by later to pick them up."

She paused, then let out a little laugh. "Oh, and don't bother with his underwear. I got him new ones. He really likes the fit."

The cramping in my abdomen intensified. I bit down on my lip, hard, refusing to let a sound escape.

In the past, when Vivian took a jab at me like that, I'd completely lose it.

I'd call Ryan hysterically, demanding an explanation. Or I'd storm into HR and demand they fire her.

Just like that time last week, when she'd put on her faux-concerned act.

I lost it completely and trashed her office.

The commotion drew a swarm of reporters, all scrambling for the story.

Then the whole sordid affair was splashed across every headline.

Rumors and gossip ran wild.

With the company on the verge of an IPO, it was a devastating blow.

Ryan was a man known for his ruthlessness.

He demanded I clear Vivian's name immediately.

"If you keep stirring things up," he warned, his voice like ice, "the moment that baby is born, I'm taking it. You'll never see it again."

Between Vivian and me, he'd always chosen her.

*****

On the table beside the bed hung a painting of sunflowers.

My mother had painted it. I brought it from home.

She'd left me so many of her paintings, but over the years, I'd had to sell nearly all of them to pay off the debts. This was the only one left.

On those long, sleepless nights, just looking at it brought me a small measure of comfort.

I reached for it.

It fell to the floor with a soft thud.

Something slipped out from behind the canvas.

I forgot the pain and just stared. There, tucked behind it, were photos of Ryan from years ago, when he was young.

*****

He'd been just seventeen when my mother brought him home.

In the photo, he wore a faded old T-shirt. His back was ramrod straight, his young eyes sharp with a quiet defiance.

Back then, his back was still smooth, unmarked by the scars that would come later.

My mother paid for his entire college education.

After graduation, I joined the family business. I was smart and worked hard. My future should have been bright.

But then, my father, a lifelong philanderer, dropped dead in the arms of one of his mistresses.

Out of the woodwork came all his illegitimate children, the ones we'd never even known existed. They descended on the family fortune like wolves.

I was totally blindsided.

In the end, I was left with a shell of a company, barely ten employees, and a mountain of debt so massive it felt insurmountable.

Then my mother had a heart attack and collapsed.

We couldn't afford a real hospital.

We ended up at this small clinic, where she barely hung on with nothing but the most basic medication.

But Ryan was there. I yelled at him, told him to go, but he wouldn't leave.

The debt collectors were relentless. They were everywhere, hounding us no matter where we hid.

We were always on the run, always terrified.

Sometimes, when they'd corner us in some alley, he would pull me tight against him and cover my eyes with his hand. "Don't be scared," he'd whisper. "Don't look."

Those scars were all from back then.

We made it through those brutal two years and paid off every last penny.

The company finally started to turn around.

One day, I carefully broached the subject. "Shouldn't we think about getting married?"

He leaned in and kissed me. "Relax. You're the only one for me. Who else would it be?"

After that, however, he was out all the time. It was always business dinners and late nights.

Then came the new secretary, Vivian.

She started worming her way into every corner of his life.

By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.

We argued over and over again.

I gave him an ultimatum: either let Vivian go, or marry me.

He just stayed quiet and made no choice.

The disappointment inside me just kept piling up.