Chapter 7

Chapter Seven…

AVA – POV…

I was on my knees with a sponge in one hand and a bucket beside me, scrubbing the hallway tiles like a damn janitor. My palms were raw. My knees ached. And all I could think was—my father really did this to me.

Not even a desk job. Not a shadowed cubicle. No paperwork. No training. Just a sponge, a bucket, and a hallway. The man who raised me wanted me to start from the bottom—this bottom. I was supposed to crosswz my legs by now, acting like a boss.

I remembered Kieran offering me something different. His company. His name. His resources. He didn’t hide what he had, and he didn’t treat me like I was disposable. But I said no. I wanted to take over my father’s empire, my legacy. I wanted to build my name on my own. I never imagined he’d throw me down with the rest of the workers, strip me of everything I knew, and act like I didn’t matter.

I dipped the sponge in the water again, squeezing until it dripped, and dragged it over the marble with slow, determined strokes. I wouldn’t complain. I wouldn’t whine. I would earn it. That was the promise I made to myself.

But I wasn’t prepared for her.

The bucket beside me tipped. A loud clang echoed as water rushed across the floor. I barely had time to register what had happened when a voice cut in behind me.

“Are you trying to destroy the company, or are you just that useless?”

I looked up.

Lydia.

Of course it was Lydia. Being the manager of my company was the worst my father has ever done.

There she stood, arms crossed in her tight blazer, red lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. My father’s prized manager. The one he trusted. The one who used to sleep with my ex-husband.

I stood slowly, my eyes fixed on hers. “Was it necessary to kick the bucket over?”

Her brows shot up, all faux innocence. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I said, wiping my hands on the rag. “I saw you. You kicked it.”

She laughed—sharp and smug. “Are you accusing me of something, sweetheart?”

“You tell me.” I didn’t flinch.

Her eyes narrowed, the humor vanishing. “You have a hell of a mouth for someone scrubbing floors.”

“And you have a hell of a temper for someone pretending to be in control,” I said, tilting my head. “We all have our flaws.”

She moved fast.

Before I could blink, she shoved me. My back hit the cold floor, palms scraping the tile. The water soaked into my shirt. She grabbed the bucket and, with a vicious smirk, dumped the rest of the water over my head.

The cold hit me like ice. My breath caught.

She crouched next to me, her voice low and venomous. “In case you forgot, I run this company. Not you. Not your daddy. As for me. My boyfriend is CEO, and soon, he’ll be my husband. That means you? You should be worshipping the ground I walk on. Unless you want to be fired before the week is out. That's what ungrateful people get.”

I sat up slowly, water dripping from my hair, my jaw clenched. I pushed the bucket aside and met her gaze, unbothered. “You shouldn’t wear someone else’s crown, Manager. It never quite fits.”

“You think you’re clever—”

“No.” I stood, brushing myself off. “I think you’re insecure. And you know the only thing keeping you relevant is the lie you’re living.”

The slap came out of nowhere.

Hard. Fast. Open-palmed across my cheek.

My head snapped to the side. I tasted blood at the corner of my lip, but I didn’t stumble. I just looked at her—and laughed.

She hated that.

Her lips curled. “You’re so goddamn annoying. You think you’re better than everyone, don’t you? No wonder Richard didn't care when you left. For once stop thinking you are perfect.”

“I don’t need to think it,” I said quietly.

Her face twisted. “Fine. You want to act like you’re above it all? You’re cleaning the gala floor this weekend. After the event. Every spill. Every shattered glass. Every pile of garbage the elite leave behind. That’s your job now.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s not errand work. That’s janitorial.”

“Maybe you should’ve read the fine print.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I just make the rules.”

I stepped closer, forcing her to look me in the eye. “I’m here as an errand runner. Not a maid. If you need a cleaner, call a service. Or better yet, do it yourself. At least no one is above work.”

I turned to leave.

But she grabbed my arm.

She yanked me back hard and shoved me down again, this time harder, enough to make my elbow hit the ground with a crack. The pain shot through my bones.

“You’ll regret ever walking into this company,” she hissed. “ I will make your life a hell, you will question if I was a Devil.

I stayed down, my palm pressed against the wet tile. My breathing evened out, slow and calm. I didn’t look up.

Not until the door opened.

Footsteps echoed into the hallway.

Lydia turned, her mouth parting into a fake, sweet smile.

But I didn’t move.

Not yet.

I slowly lifted my chin, the wet hair clinging to my cheeks, the bruise on my face already forming.

My eyes landed on the man who had just walked in. The Man I was waiting to see.

My breath caught in my throat.

Richard.

He froze where he stood, eyes sweeping the scene—me on the floor, soaked and bruised, Lydia towering above me with a smirk that hadn’t faded fast enough.

Then his eyes locked on mine.

For a second we just stare at each other without a word. As if everything just pauses for a second.

And he said, quietly, with something between disbelief and confusion—

“Ava?”