Love is the Best Revenge

It took seven years for Ethan to convince me I was the center of his universe, and exactly seven weeks for his "business partner," Chloe, to prove I was just a placeholder.

I was the woman who ironed his shirts and managed his schedule, yet she was the one he comforted at 2 AM.

But the real end didn't come with a fight. It came with an explosion.

At a family gathering, a gas heater malfunctioned. Glass shattered, and fire erupted. In that split second of life or death, Ethan didn't look for me.

He threw his body over Chloe.

He shielded her from the flames, cocooning her in his arms, whispering frantically to her while I stood twenty feet away, watching my boyfriend of seven years act like I didn't exist.

When I confronted him later, he didn't apologize. Instead, he let Chloe carve her initials over ours on our anniversary tree.

When I tried to stop them, he shoved me into the dirt to comfort her over a broken nail.

"You are dead to me, Ava," he screamed. "Jealousy makes you ugly."

He thought I would beg. He thought I was an appliance he could unplug and plug back in whenever he wanted. He was arrogant enough to believe I would always be there, waiting for his scraps.

He was wrong.

While he was playing hero to his mistress, I didn't cry.

I booked a one-way ticket to Portland, snapped my SIM card in half, and vanished.

By the time he realized the silence in his apartment wasn't peace, but abandonment, I was already gone.

Chapter 1

Ava POV

I stared at the carving in the corner of the hardwood floor, the initials 'E & A' encircled by a heart that looked less like a promise and more like a scar.

Seven years. That was how long it had taken Ethan to convince me that I was the center of his universe, and exactly seven weeks for Chloe Vance to prove I was just a placeholder.

"You're overreacting, Ava," Ethan said, his voice flat. He didn't even look up from his phone. "She's a business partner. Her brand is vital for the merger."

I stood in the doorway of the living room we had bought together, watching him text her. I knew it was her. His face had that soft, unguarded expression that used to be reserved only for me.

"Business partners don't call at two in the morning," I said. My voice did not shake. I had spent all my tears in the bathroom an hour ago. "Business partners don't need you to comfort them because they had a bad dream."

Ethan finally looked at me. His eyes were cold, stripped of the warmth I had relied on for my entire twenties.

"You're being suffocating," he said.

The word hit me like a physical slap. Suffocating. I was the woman who ironed his shirts, who managed his schedule, who forgave him when he forgot my birthday last year because of a "crisis."

I walked over to the table and snatched up his keys.

"Where are you going?" he asked, a hint of annoyance sharpening his tone.

"To dinner. With your parents. Like we planned for a month."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I can't go. Chloe needs help with the press release."

"It's my mother's birthday dinner, Ethan."

"Send her my regards."

I endured the dinner alone. I sat wedged between my parents and his, spinning excuses for the empty chair beside me. I told them he was working hard. I told them he was building our future.

Then, my phone buzzed.

It was a notification from Instagram. Chloe Vance had posted a story.

It was a video. She was laughing, holding a glass of wine. In the background, a man was cutting a steak for her. I knew those hands. I knew the watch on the wrist. I had bought it for him.