Stolen Locket, Stolen Heart: Her Revenge

Ava POV:

I sat with earbuds in, pretending to rest, the soft music a shield between me and the hostile world. It took the edge off their sharp words. It was a small act of rebellion, a way to reclaim a sliver of peace.

Jaxon watched me. He sighed, a sound of resignation.

"My friends were out of line," he said, his voice coming through faintly over the music. I removed one earbud.

"I heard you," I replied, my voice flat.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"They shouldn't have spoken to you like that," he continued. "You are still my wife, Ava. They need to respect that."

It was a hollow defense, a performance for an audience that wasn't listening. He never stopped his friends when they humiliated me. He just let it happen. It was another way to assert his power, another chip away at my spirit. He took another drink. Then he started to explain.

"Ivory… she's a promising student at Columbia. Bright, but she comes from a difficult background. She's on scholarship, trying to make ends meet." He paused, as if expecting a reaction. I gave him none.

"It's just… a mutually beneficial arrangement," he said, his voice calmer now, almost casual. "She needs support, I… well, I enjoy her company. Nothing more. She knows her place. It doesn't change anything between us. You are my wife. My public face."

I looked at him, my expression blank. He wanted me to believe him, to be soothed by his empty words. But I saw through it all. He wanted me to be a compliant, decorative wife who didn't threaten his image. He wanted me to be okay with being replaced in his bed, as long as I kept my mouth shut.

I remained silent. He raised his voice slightly.

"Are you even listening, Ava?" he asked, a hint of impatience in his tone.

"Yes, Jaxon," I replied, my voice betraying no emotion. "I am listening."

He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. I returned his stare with a vacant look, then quickly resumed my position, resting my head against the back of the couch, eyes closed. The mask was back on.

"I remember you once said that a man of your stature needs… variety," I murmured, my eyes still closed. "You said it keeps you sharp, keeps things interesting. I understand. You also said that a smart woman knows when to look the other way."

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

"I feel for Ivory, though," I added, my voice soft. "It must be hard for her, in her situation. I hope you are gentle with her. She seems vulnerable."

I watched him, waiting for his approval, a slight shift in his demeanor that would indicate I had said the right thing, played my part perfectly.

His small smile vanished. His jaw tightened. The air in the car shifted. The car, which had been moving, suddenly jerked to a stop on the side of the road. I opened my eyes fully.

His voice dropped, low and dangerous.

"What are you doing, Ava?" he hissed. "Are you trying to make trouble again?"

I pulled out my earbuds, genuinely surprised.

"Trouble? Jaxon, no," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not doing anything. I'm just… wishing you well. Supporting you, as a wife should."

My "perfect" response seemed to ignite something in him. His eyes flared with a fury I hadn't seen in months.

"Ava!" he snarled, his voice a low growl. "Stop it!"

I sat motionless, waiting. I knew this rage. I had seen it too many times before. A sudden downpour lashed against the windows, heavy drops drumming on the roof. The car filled with the oppressive silence, punctuated only by the drumming rain. The atmosphere inside became heavier, mirroring the storm outside.