Chapter 2
Ava's POV:
I left John's study and went to the guest room furthest from the master bedroom, taking out that agreement from the drawer.
Three years ago, in a room just like this, John's grandfather lay in his sickbed and handed me this agreement.
He was so thin he was just skin and bones, but his eyes were still bright, his face full of guilt toward me.
"Ava, I know this isn't fair to you." His voice was hoarse, pausing for breath after every sentence. "John's not a bad kid, just spoiled by his mother. After I'm gone, when the Williams Group passes to him, I'm worried."
I said nothing.
"Your father always praised you as a smart girl. I can see it too—you really like John."
He coughed a few times. A nurse tried to help him, but he waved her away. "I need you by his side, to help him handle PR crises, to help him secure his position. Can you do that?"
I looked at that aged face and thought of my father.
My father had also been John's grandfather's loyal subordinate, devoted his whole life. His only regret before dying was not seeing me finish college.
John's grandfather paid my tuition.
He said it was compensation for an old subordinate, but I knew it was his guilt toward my father.
I was eighteen that year, had just lost my father, my mother was seriously ill, and my sister was still young.
I thought no one in this world would ever help me again.
"Okay." I said flatly. "I agree."
John's grandfather nodded and pulled out a check from under his pillow.
Twenty million dollars.
He handed me the agreement. It was all written clearly.
Stay with John for three years, work as his secretary, help him stabilize the Williams Group.
After three years, twenty million dollars, free to stay or go.
I signed.
John's grandfather signed too.
Then he held my hand and said something I still remember vividly.
"John... he's going to regret this someday."
I didn't understand then. Now I do.
Whether he regrets it or not, I don't know. I only know that I regret it.
My phone buzzed.
I looked down—it was a message from my sister's doctor.
"Ms. Davis, Mason Davis has been emotionally unstable lately. If you're available, please come to the hospital as soon as possible."
My heart tightened. I quickly replied: "Okay, I'll come today."
After sending the message, I checked the calendar.
Twenty-three days until the three-year term ended.
I took a deep breath and opened my computer to handle today's work.
Seventeen unread emails sat in my inbox, mostly inquiries from partners, plus a few interview requests from media outlets.
I replied to them one by one, well-worded and efficient.
This was a skill I'd developed over these three years.
No matter how chaotic my heart felt, my work was always flawless.
When I got to the last email, my fingers paused.
It was an email from London.
Subject: Interview Invitation for Senior PR Manager Position.
I opened it, my heartbeat slightly accelerating.
A month ago, I'd secretly sent in this resume.
A top international PR firm in London, industry-leading, excellent salary, and overseas—far away from John.
I planned to take Mason there with me after the divorce.
I confirmed the time and closed my inbox, then started preparing interview materials.
At 2 PM, I opened the video conference software on time.
On the other side of the camera, a woman in her forties sat in an office.
"Ms. Davis, thank you for taking the time to interview with us today." She glanced down at my resume. "I've reviewed your resume—very impressive. Top university graduate, three years of PR experience at the Williams Group, handled multiple major PR crises..."
I smiled and nodded. The interview went smoothly.
She was very satisfied with my professional abilities, asking several questions about crisis management case studies.
I answered each one, clear and detailed.
Until the last question.
"Ms. Davis, this position requires you to relocate to London, ideally for long-term residence." She paused, her gaze falling on my left ring finger. "I see you appear to be married. Would this affect your marriage?"
She asked directly.
I looked down at the ring on my ring finger.
It was a simple platinum band, no diamond, no engraving.
John had put it on me at our wedding three years ago.
He was very impatient that day. It took several tries to get the ring on.
When the priest asked if he was willing to marry me, he said "I do" while looking out the window.
I didn't say anything, because I knew clearly that this marriage was just a transaction.
John's grandfather used inheritance rights to make John marry me.
I traded my freedom for twenty million dollars to save Mason's life.
Each getting what they needed, each accepting their fate.
I looked up at the camera, my voice calm.
"I accept this arrangement because I'll be getting divorced next month."
The interviewer froze, her expression somewhat complicated.
She was silent for a few seconds, then said: "Well then, we'll notify you again when we have news."
I nodded, about to close the video when a voice suddenly came from behind me.
"Who are you talking to?"
My whole body stiffened, my finger instinctively moving to click the close button.
But it was too late.
John was standing behind me somehow, one hand on the chair back, the other holding a coffee cup.
He looked down at the screen, his brow slightly furrowed.
On the screen, though the video had closed, the London company's page was still visible.
"London?" He read the location abbreviation in the corner of the screen, his tone cooling. "You're interviewing with a company in London?"
I closed the computer, turned around, and looked up at him.
He was wearing loungewear, his hair a bit messy—he must have just woken up.
"I asked you a question." He said, his voice not loud but very oppressive.
I stood up, walked around him to the window.
"You saw it yourself." I said. "Nothing to ask about."
John put his coffee cup on the table and walked over, standing in front of me.
He was a head taller than me. When he looked down at me, his eyes held an indescribable emotion.
"Ava, what do you mean?" His voice was very low. "You don't want to work anymore?"
I looked up at him.
Three years ago, on the day I married him, I'd looked up at him like this too.
Back then my eyes were full of light, like all newlywed wives, thinking marriage was the beginning of love.
Now I knew—marriage was love's grave.
And my love had long since died completely.
"John, your grandfather is gone." I said, my voice very calm. "You've already secured your position as heir to the Williams Group. No one can control you anymore. Why do you have to keep me at the company?"
John stared at me, then suddenly laughed coldly: "What? Isn't this what you wanted?"
I didn't speak.
"You think I don't know? You schemed your way into this marriage from the start because you wanted the Williams family's money, didn't you? Your sister's illness, your mother's debts—which one doesn't depend on the Williams family?" He paused, his tone even colder. "If it weren't for your talent in PR, helping me handle things, do you think I'd keep you around this long?"
I clenched my fingers.
John stepped forward, looking down at me, his voice not loud but every word full of threat: "Don't forget, the money your sister spends at the hospital every day—I'm paying for it. If you dare resign, I'll cut off her treatment funds immediately."
My breathing caught. I slowly looked up at him, my heart clenched tight.
He knew Mason was my weakness, knew I didn't dare resist, so he could be this unrestrained.
He had no feelings for me at all, only revenge and exploitation.
"I understand." I said, my voice trembling. "I won't resign."
He smiled.
That smile was beautiful, but his eyes held no warmth.
"That's right. I like it when you're obedient and sensible."
He finished speaking and turned to leave.
The door closed softly, but I heard it and my heart trembled.
I stood there, my whole body cold.
Sunlight came through the window, falling on my hands, but I couldn't feel any warmth.
My phone buzzed again.
I looked down—it was the hospital calling.
"Ms. Davis, something's happened to Mason. Please come immediately."
