Save Your Apology, Mr. CEO

Ava's POV

The engagement ring Lucas had slid onto my finger a year ago was still on my left hand when he pulled Nicole up onto the stage.

The ballroom of the Grand Meridian glowed gold under the chandeliers. Behind them, a massive LED screen played a slideshow I'd spent three weeks putting together for our anniversary. Lucas and me at the beach. Lucas and me at his company launch. Lucas and me in the hospital, both of us pale and hooked up to IVs, grinning like idiots.

Then the screen went black. A new photo appeared.

Lucas and Nicole.

"Five years ago, I was dying," Lucas said into the microphone. His voice carried easily over the hum of investors, coworkers, and family friends. "My kidneys were failing. I had months, maybe less. And someone gave me a second chance."

He turned to Nicole. She pressed a hand to her chest, eyes already shining.

"Nicole gives me a second life. Tonight, I'm finally giving her the future she deserves."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a velvet box. The diamond inside was easily twice the size of mine. Then Lucas Grant, the man I'd been planning to marry, went down on one knee.

The room exploded. People whistled. Someone near the bar shouted, "About time!"

My fingers tightened around my champagne flute until I thought the glass might crack. The fitted waist of my dress rubbed against the scar on my left side, the one that still ached when it rained.

Five years ago, he'd gripped my hand from his hospital bed, too weak to lift his head.

"If I make it through this, Ava," he'd whispered, "I'm going to spend the rest of my life loving you."

The flute nearly slipped out of my hand.

I set it down on the nearest table and walked toward the stage. Then I was moving faster, pushing past a man in a gray suit, ignoring the woman who hissed my name.

"Lucas."

He was still on one knee. Nicole hadn't answered yet. She was busy crying prettily for the crowd.

"Lucas," I said again, louder. The music faltered. "Do you remember what day your transplant was?"

He rose slowly, frowning. "Ava, not now."

"March fourteenth. St. Catherine's. Room 412." My voice shook, but I kept going. "You were in surgery for five hours. I know because I was in surgery just down the hall."

I grabbed the side of my dress and yanked the fabric up, exposing my waist. The scar ran pale and puckered along my side, eight inches long.

A ripple went through the crowd.

I dug into my clutch and pulled out the folded discharge papers I'd carried to every important event for five years, like an idiot. Like a good luck charm.

"This is my discharge summary. Living donor nephrectomy. My name. Your name as the recipient." I held it up. "I turned down the London job for this. I slept on a cot in your rehab center for two months because you were scared to be alone at night."

For a second, Nicole's smile froze.

Then she threw her hands up, stumbling back half a step like I'd swung at her.

"Ava, what are you doing?" Her voice cracked. Tears spilled down her cheeks right on cue. "Papers can be edited. Anyone can print something like that."

"It has a hospital seal on it."

"Why would you do this tonight?" She looked at Lucas, then at the crowd. "This was supposed to be the happiest night of my life, and you're turning it into a circus."

"Because you're lying."

Nicole wiped her eyes and lifted her chin. "Ava, having a scar doesn't mean you're the woman who saved him."

The pearls around her neck caught the light.

I knew those pearls. Lucas had bought them in February. I'd seen the receipt on his desk and thought they were for me.

The same week, he'd talked me into canceling my follow-up appointment with my nephrologist. Then again in April. Then again last month. Three cancellations, three texts. *Nicole's not feeling well. Post-op stuff. Sorry, babe, next time.*

I'd never once asked what surgery Nicole recovered from.

She'd never donated a kidney. Every bad day, every dizzy spell, every late-night phone call that pulled him out of our bed had been her way of keeping him close. And he'd let her.

I stepped right up to the edge of the stage and held the paper out to him.

"Look at it, Lucas. Just look at the hospital name and the date." I swallowed hard. "If you don't believe me, we'll call the transplant center right now. Together. They'll confirm who the donor was."

He took the paper.

For one stupid moment, I thought he was going to read it.

Instead, he tore it in half and dropped the pieces at his feet.

The sound of ripping paper was louder than any applause.

"Nicole was there when I had nothing," he said. "She sat with me when I couldn't stand. She held my hand when I thought I was going to die. And you? You've been dragging this story out for five years every time you want attention."

"Dragging it out?" I stared at him. "Lucas, it's my kidney. It's inside you."

He jumped down from the stage and grabbed my wrist. His grip was crushing.

"Stop stealing credit from the woman who actually saved my life. You're embarrassing yourself."

He shoved me away.

I stumbled backward in my heels and slammed into the corner of a table loaded with champagne glasses. Pain shot up my hip. Glasses tipped and shattered, and cold champagne poured down the front of my dress, soaking through the silk until it clung to my skin.

When I looked up, Lucas had already stepped back in front of Nicole, one arm out like a shield. Like I was something dangerous that had wandered in from the street.

The first time he'd gotten out of bed after the surgery, he'd needed my shoulder to stay upright. He'd leaned his whole weight on me and laughed, breathless and shaky.

"You're the last person in the world I'd ever want to hurt, Ava."

His hands were still strong. That surgery had made sure of it. He just used them to push me away now.

I rubbed my wrist. Red finger marks were already rising on my skin.

Nobody came to help me. Not his mother at the front table. Not his business partner. Not the coworkers I'd brought cookies to every Friday.

I bent down and picked up the two halves of my discharge summary. The edges were wet with champagne, the ink starting to bleed.

When I straightened, Nicole's phone was aimed at my face. A red LIVE icon glowed in the corner of the screen. Comments were scrolling up faster than I could read them.

"Guys, I'm so sorry you have to see this," she said, voice trembling. "This is Lucas's ex. She's been really jealous since he told her about us, and tonight she just... snapped. Please don't be mean to her. She's obviously not okay."

"Turn that off," I said.

She didn't.

Lucas didn't even look at her. He looked toward the doors and lifted his hand.

"Security. Get her out of here. Now."

Two guards in black blazers started toward me through the crowd.

I didn't wait for them. I walked up to Lucas, close enough to smell the cologne I'd bought him for Christmas, and twisted the ring off my finger. It stuck at the knuckle, then came free.

I dropped it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

"Since you don't believe I ever saved you," I said, "we don't need to talk about it again. Ever."

His hand moved to the pocket and stopped there. His eyes dropped to my bare ring finger, and something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe. Like he'd honestly thought I would fight, cry, beg, and stay.

For a moment, he didn't move.

Then Nicole slid her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Lucas," she murmured. "Please. I just want this to be over."

He turned his back on me.

I looked at the two of them under the glittering lights, her new diamond flashing, my old ring sitting in his pocket.

"Congratulations, Lucas," I said. "You finally find a woman who can take credit for loving you, too."

A guard took my elbow. I didn't pull away.

They walked me across the ballroom, champagne dripping from the hem of my dress, the torn paper crumpled in my fist. Nicole's phone followed me the whole way.

The guard pushed open the glass doors to the lobby.

Behind me, the band started up again. Someone called out, "She said yes!"

And the whole room burst into applause.