The Burned Wife Reborn For Spectacular Revenge

The sound of Warren's footsteps faded into the silence of the massive house. The air in the hallway remained tight and heavy.

Cristin shifted her weight. She looked at the empty staircase, then back at Ava. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. Her lower lip trembled.

"Ava," Cristin whimpered. "Why did you speak to me like that? You broke my heart just now."

Jocelyn took a step forward, her natural empathy kicking in. "Ava, maybe you should-"

Ava held up her hand, silencing her mother. She kept her eyes locked on Cristin. She watched the tears spill over Cristin's cheeks. It was a flawless performance.

"Your fever is making you act crazy," Cristin sniffled, reaching into her pocket for a tissue. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

Ava looked at Cristin's left wrist. "Take off the bracelet."

Cristin froze. She quickly pulled her sleeve down over her wrist, hiding the gold metal. "What?"

"The Cartier Love bracelet," Ava said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "You bought it last Tuesday. You used the black card attached to my account. Take it off."

Cristin's face turned stark white. She stammered, "You... you told me I could borrow it for the gala."

Ava took a slow step forward. The physical distance between them vanished. "You claim you don't understand business. You claim you were just listening to Warren's advice." Ava tilted her head. "Your father was the executive secretary to the board for twenty years. He drafted the trust bylaws. You knew exactly what that contract meant."

The tears stopped falling from Cristin's eyes. The soft, victimized expression melted away, replaced by a hard, ugly glare.

"You don't deserve any of this," Cristin spat, dropping the tissue. "You are a stupid, spoiled brat who just happened to be born in the right bed."

Ava nodded slowly. "I was stupid. I was blind."

Ava reached out. Her hand moved fast. She grabbed the thin silver chain resting against Cristin's collarbone. It was a cheap friendship necklace they had bought at a boardwalk kiosk three years ago.

Ava closed her fist around the metal. She yanked her hand back.

The clasp snapped. The metal dug into Cristin's neck, leaving a thin red scratch before giving way. The cheap plastic beads strung along the chain scattered. They hit the hardwood floor, bouncing and rolling in every direction.

Cristin gasped, her hands flying to her neck. She dropped to her knees, instinctively reaching for the rolling beads.

Ava lifted her bare foot and brought her heel down hard on one of the blue plastic beads. It cracked into pieces under her weight.

Ava looked down at the top of Cristin's head. "Get out."

Heavy, measured footsteps echoed from the upper floor, descending toward the foyer. Sam Jones, the estate's head butler, was making his usual rounds to report on the evening's dinner preparations. He stopped as the tension in the hallway hit him, standing silently on the landing.

"Sam," Ava said. "Escort Miss Kerr off the property."

Sam stepped forward immediately. He did not ask questions. He extended his arm toward the stairs, his posture rigid and uncompromising. "This way, Miss."

Cristin stood up. Her face burned red with supreme humiliation. She looked at Ava, her chest heaving. She grabbed her designer purse from the floor and marched toward the stairs.

Ava leaned against the wooden railing of the hallway. She looked down into the grand foyer below, where three maids were dusting the chandelier.

"If she ever steps foot on this estate again," Ava said, her voice echoing loudly off the marble walls below, "call the police and have her arrested for trespassing."

The maids stopped working. They stared up at the stairs. Cristin's shoulders jerked. She practically ran out the front doors.

Ava watched the heavy doors close. She let out a long, slow breath. Her shoulders finally dropped.