Chapter 7 - Drawing the Line
The cold wind whistled through the pine trees surrounding the property, carrying the faint sound of a saw whirring in Daniel’s distant workshop. I looked down at Chloe—a woman who had spent her entire life treating me like an unpaid servant, a background character in the grand production of her own existence.
"Chloe," I said, my voice remarkably calm. "Listen to me very carefully. I am never coming back."
Chloe’s jaw dropped. "Are you out of your mind? That man has brainwashed you! You're throwing away your entire family over a medical emergency? It was just a baby shower, Ava! You always make everything about yourself!"
Hearing those exact words—you always make everything about yourself—after I had literally flatlined on an operating table while they ignored seventeen emergency calls was almost darkly comical.
"A medical emergency where I died on the table, Chloe," I said, my voice hardening. "While you were opening presents and complaining that I wasn't texting you back. And that 'crazy old man' is my real father. The man who actually gave me life, and the man who saved it when your mother tried to discharge me into a coffin."
Chloe recoiled as if she had been physically slapped. "What... what are you talking about? Real father? Are you insane?"
"Ask Mom and Robert about Elena Price," I replied smoothly. "Ask them why they packed me up in the middle of the night twenty-four years ago and pretended I was their own. Ask them how much of my father's estate they embezzled before cutting off all ties."
The color drained entirely from Chloe’s face. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, realizing instantly that the tightly guarded family secret was out in the open.
"I... I don't know anything about that," she stammered, wrapping her coat tighter around her swollen belly. "You're just making things up to be dramatic! You've always been so bitter, Ava!"
"Believe whatever you need to, Chloe," I said, my hand resting on the doorknob. "But do not ever come back here. If you or Margaret or Robert ever step foot on this property again, I won't just let Daniel handle it—I'll call the state police myself for trespassing and harassment."
Before Chloe could muster another hysterical response, the heavy wooden door of the workshop swung open down the path. Daniel stepped out, wiping sawdust from his flannel shirt, holding a newly crafted wooden shelf under his arm. He spotted the luxury sedan, saw Chloe standing in the snow, and started walking toward the house with long, purposeful strides, his face masked in protective sternness.
Chloe took one look at Daniel marching across the snowy yard, panicked, turned around, and slipped clumsily in the snow, catching herself before tumbling down. Without looking back, she scrambled into her car, slammed the door, threw the luxury sedan into reverse, and tore down the gravel driveway, kicking up a blizzard of white snow in her wake.
Daniel reached the porch a moment later, breathing slightly heavily from the cold, his eyes scanning the departing car.
"You alright, sweetheart?" he asked, dropping the shelf and stepping up beside me.
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"I'm better than alright," I smiled, leaning my head against his broad shoulder. "I think the trash just took itself out for good."
Daniel wrapped a warm, protective arm around me, looking out over the peaceful, snow-covered hills. "Good. Because we have far more important things to worry about."
