Ava's wrist trembled.
The fork hovered just short of her lips, the scent of butter and salt rising sharply. Her throat tightened, itching already, panic blooming fast and hot beneath the corset..
She couldn't eat it.
She couldn't.
"Ava," her mother prompted again, still smiling, still gentle. "You should try it while it's warm."
The smile on her mother's face was proud.
Expectant.
Ava's pulse roared in her ears.
Before she could fully steady herself, Matthias's hand moved.
He reached for hers.
Not abruptly. Not possessively. Just a light, deliberate closure of his fingers around her wrist, grounding and inescapable all at once.
Ava stiffened.
He picked up her spoon with his free hand.
Gasps rippled down the table.
"Oh," someone laughed. "How sweet."
Matthias didn't acknowledge them.
He guided her hand—guided—lifting the fork that was in mid air to his slightly parted mouth. Ava's breath caught as the fork hovered between them, her fingers locked in his grip, her body frozen under a dozen watching eyes.
"Go on," he murmured, barely moving his lips.
She had no choice.
Her hand trembled as she tipped the fork toward him.
Matthias leaned in and ate from it.
The reaction was immediate.
Laughter. Applause. Someone actually clapped.
"How romantic!"
"They really are inseparable."
"Young love," another voice sighed.
Ava felt like she was going to shatter.
Matthias hummed softly—not loud, not performative. Just enough for her to hear.
Then, smoothly, he took the fork from her entirely.
In one fluid motion, he switched their plates.
Seafood slid in front of him.
Something safer—something she could eat—was placed before her.
"I love this," he said casually, taking another bite.
The room relaxed.
His mother, Mrs Ashton, frowned slightly, studying him. "That's surprising."
Matthias didn't look up.
"Since when do you enjoy seafood?" she asked. "You never liked it."
He paused just long enough to swallow.
"People change," he said evenly.
His hand remained on the table between them.
Close enough that Ava could feel the warmth.
Close enough to remind her—
He wasn't just protecting her.
He was proving something.
And as the conversation moved on, laughter replacing scrutiny, Ava sat rigid in her chair, heart racing, realizing the truth with terrifying clarity:
Matthias wasn't hiding her secret.
He was weaving it deeper into his control.
And everyone at the table was cheering him on.
The lunch continued as if nothing had happened.
Laughter ebbed and flowed. Glasses clinked.
Conversations shifted from investments to travel to polite nostalgia.
Ava nodded when expected, smiled when prompted, ate just enough to look convincing.
No one noticed how tightly she held herself together.
When the pressure in her chest became unbearable, she pushed her chair back gently.
"Excuse me," she said, voice steady enough to pass. "I need some air."
Aria's mother waved a hand absently. "Don't be long."
Ava stood, careful not to rush, and made her way through the tall glass doors.
The balcony doors slid shut behind her.
Ava exhaled sharply, gripping the railing as the cool air hit her face.
"Oh my God," she muttered. Then, louder, "Oh my God."
She bent forward slightly, forehead almost touching the cold metal.
"What the hell was that?" she whispered.
"Seafood? Of all things?"
She put her hands in the air dramatically.
"What happened to hand burgers or or hot dogs or maybe a normal toast?"
She muttered almost on the verge of tears.
She straightened and dragged a hand through her hair, pacing once, twice.
"This family is insane," she hissed.
"Absolutely insane."
Her gaze flicked back toward the glass doors, toward the table she'd escaped from.
"And you," she muttered bitterly, staring at her reflection. "You're trapped."
She let out a shaky laugh that held no humor.
"And him—" she stopped, jaw tightening.
"Matthias."
She scoffed. "That smug, manipulative, son of a freaking tornado, brutal, iced heart and that darn face of his. He probably thinks he is better than everyone. I swear I might just punch him where the sun does not shine—"
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Ava spun around with a sharp inhale.
Matthias stood just inside the balcony, hands coming together slowly, deliberately.
His expression was infuriatingly composed.
"Well done," he said mildly.
Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she snapped. "Ummm, when did you open the door?"
She was so caught up in cursing him out that she didn't hear the door open.
He tilted his head, watching her like she was a performance he'd paid for.
"You curse very passionately," he observed.
"Especially when my name is involved."
Her eyes widened. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," he replied calmly.
She groaned, pressing her palms to her face.
"Haha. You know I definitely didn't mean whatever you heard. I mean you pretty much saved me in there and and..."
Then he said it.
"Ava."
The name hit her like a gunshot.
Her panic surged instantly.
She crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat and clamped a hand over his mouth, fingers pressing hard as she hissed,
"Are you out of your mind?!"
His eyes flicked to the glass doors, then back to her—annoyingly calm.
"Do you want my mother to hear you?" she whispered fiercely.
"Do you want this entire ridiculous lunch to explode because you can't keep your mouth shut for five seconds?"
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted a hand and wrapped his fingers around her wrist—not forceful, just firm.
Before she could pull away, his lips moved.
Not to speak.
They brushed against her palm.
Barely a touch. Soft. Warm.
Ava froze.
Her breath hitched as awareness flooded her all at once—too intimate, too sudden, too weird. The contrast of it against the tension made her skin prickle.
She yanked her hand back immediately, like she'd been burned.
"What is wrong with you?" she hissed, heart racing. "Don't—don't do that."
Matthias watched her closely, eyes dark, unreadable. He noticed the way her fingers trembled, he definitely felt amused by it.
"You're shaking," he said instead.
"That's your fault."
"No," he replied calmly. "It's because you're cornered."
She clenched her hands into fists, pressing them against her sides. "Say my name again," she warned softly, "and I swear—"
"You'll what?" he asked, stepping closer. Not enough to touch her. Just enough to make her aware of him. "Run?"
Her jaw tightened.
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something only meant for her.
"I won't say it where others can hear," Matthias said. "But don't mistake that for mercy."
Her pulse thundered.
"You're here," he continued, eyes steady, "wearing someone else's life. Eating food that could kill you. Smiling when you want to scream."
His gaze flicked briefly to the doors behind her.
"And yet," he added quietly, "you haven't asked me for help."
Ava swallowed hard.
"I don't trust you," she said.
"That," he replied, almost thoughtfully, "is the smartest thing you've done all day."
Silence stretched between them, thick and electric.
Then Matthias straightened, stepping back like he hadn't just dismantled her with a look.
"Go back inside," he said evenly. "They'll notice you're gone."
She hesitated, then turned toward the doors.
Just before she reached them, his voice stopped her.
"And Ava?"
She stiffened. The way he called her name ignited something in her.
"Next time," he said calmly, "don't put your hand over my mouth."
Her fingers curled instinctively.
"I might bite."
She rushed out before he would say anything again.
"He isn't to be trusted.... Really...". Ava muttered under her breath as she cursed at the corset one last time before entering the hall again.
*****
Meanwhile in City B...
Aria stood up so suddenly the bench scraped against the pavement.
"I—I should go home," she said, too quickly.
Zack blinked, caught off guard. "Home? Now?"
"Yeah." She brushed invisible sugar off her fingers, avoiding his eyes. "I just remembered something. I'm tired."
That part, at least, wasn't a lie.
She reached for her bag, slinging it over her shoulder with more force than necessary. Her heart was still racing, her thoughts spiraling in directions she refused to follow.
Zack rose too. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No." The word came out sharp, then softer. "No, you didn't. It's not you."
Which somehow made it worse.
She took a step back, putting distance between them. Space. She needed space before she did something irreversible.
"I'll call you later," she added, already turning away.
Zack hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Get home safe."
She didn't trust herself to respond.
Aria walked away quickly, her footsteps uneven, the sounds of the park fading behind her. The laughter, the lights, the sweetness of the day—all of it dissolved into a heavy knot in her chest.
She didn't look back.
If she did, she wasn't sure she'd be able to leave at all.
Aria barely registered the road beneath her feet.
Her mind replayed everything—Zack's laugh, the way their eyes had lingered, the terrifying realization she'd been running from. She was so lost in thought that the sound came out of nowhere.
A sharp horn blared beside her.
She gasped, stumbling back as a sleek black car slid to a stop at the curb, far too close for comfort. Her heart slammed violently against her ribs as she turned toward it, breath caught in her throat.
The window rolled down.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Aria froze.
The engine purred, patient, waiting—
and then an unfamiliar voice called her name...Well her sister's name, she was used to answering.
"Ava."
Her blood went cold.
Who in the world is that???