CHAPTER 47

When the night drew to a close, Ava busied herself putting the children to bed, cherishing the fleeting moments of peace she had with them. Once they were asleep, she retreated to her own room. Exhausted, she bathed, hoping the warm water might wash away the weight of the day. Stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her, she realized she had forgotten to bring clothes with her.

As she entered the bedroom, her heart nearly stopped. Standing there, with a towel slung over his shoulder, was Xavier. He had clearly just showered and was about to enter the room, likely expecting her to be fast asleep or with the children.

Their eyes met, and something dangerous flickered in his gaze. His expression shifted, the easy going demeanor replaced by something far more predatory. His eyes roamed over her body, wet from the shower, and darkened with desire. He stepped closer, cornering her.

"You've lost weight," Xavier remarked, his voice low as his gaze swept over her exposed skin. "You weren't this skinny before. What happened?"

Ava's body stiffened. He was right—she had lost weight. A lot of it. The years of stress, running, and anxiety had taken their toll, but that wasn't something she intended to share with him. She could feel his eyes lingering on the faint scar near her right breast. It was a mark she had hoped would go unnoticed.

"What's this?" he asked, his fingers brushing against the scar. His tone was inquisitive, but the tension between them crackled.

Ava felt her pulse quicken. She wasn't about to tell him the truth about the surgery she'd undergone. "It's been there for a while," she lied, hoping he wouldn't press further.

Xavier's chuckle was dark and knowing. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers as he whispered, "I've seen you naked more times than I can count, Ava. I know every inch of your body—every curve, every freckle, every scar. Don't lie to me."

The heat of his breath on her skin made her shiver. Ava tried to pull away, but Xavier held her in place, his grip tightening.

"I hurt myself on a heater," she lied again, her voice barely above a whisper.

"And the weight loss?" His eyes searched hers, refusing to let her off easily.

"That's none of your business," she snapped, trying to push him away. But her sudden movement caused the towel to loosen, and she froze, realizing that if he stepped back even an inch, it would fall to the ground, leaving her completely exposed.

Xavier didn't step back. Instead, he pressed his body firmly against hers, trapping her between the wall and his chest. His lips hovered dangerously close to hers again. Ava's breathing quickened, and despite her anger, despite her resolve to remain distant, her body reacted to his closeness. His touch was familiar, awakening desires she had tried to bury.

Xavier's lips brushed against hers with a softness that belied the storm beneath his composed exterior. His kiss was tentative at first, as though he were savoring the moment before fully committing to the heat he knew would follow. It was a calculated move, a test, seeking the boundaries of her resistance. Yet, the instant he sensed her hesitation began to crumble, his touch transformed. His kiss deepened, no longer soft but fervent, as if he were claiming what he believed was already his.

His hand slid into her damp hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands with a possessive grip. The gentle tug sent shivers down her spine, and before she could stifle it, an involuntary moan escaped her lips, betraying her inner turmoil. She cursed herself for the sound, but it was too late—he had heard it. Worse, he had felt it resonate in the space between them, and it only emboldened him further.

Xavier's other hand trailed slowly down her back, pulling her closer with a firm but sensual insistence, as if he couldn't bear the physical distance that remained between them. The warmth of his body pressed intimately against hers was a searing contrast to the cold resolve she had tried so hard to maintain. For a fleeting moment, all the walls she had meticulously built over the years seemed to crumble in the heat of his touch.

Her hands, which had initially pressed against his chest in a weak attempt to push him away, now rested there, uncertain. Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the taut muscles of his chest—familiar and foreign all at once. They were a reminder of the man he used to be, the man she had once loved with an intensity that frightened her. His lips moved against hers, not just with hunger but with a sensual precision that made her pulse quicken. He was reminding her, with every brush of his mouth, of the passion they had once shared, the fire that had once burned so brightly between them.

She knew she should stop. Her mind screamed at her to push him away, to reassert the distance that had kept her safe for so long. But her body, traitorous and weak under the weight of his kiss, was already surrendering. Another moan slipped past her lips, this one deeper, rawer, as his kiss grew more fervent, more insistent. His lips molded against hers as if they were made for each other, his tongue seeking hers in a rhythm that felt maddeningly familiar.

Every nerve in her body was ablaze, a mixture of desire and frustration warring within her. Xavier was relentless, his grip tightening as though he could sense the wavering in her resolve. His kiss was no longer a mere caress; it was a demand, a reminder of what had once been, of the intimacy they had shared in a different lifetime.

But then, with a breathless gasp, she tore her lips away from his. "Stop," she whispered, her voice shaky as she struggled to regain control. "We can't do this, Xavier. Things... things aren't the same anymore." Her chest heaved with each breath, her heart racing as if it might burst from the conflicting emotions swirling inside her.

Without waiting for his response, she grabbed her clothes, clutching the towel tightly around her body, and fled the room, retreating to the safety of her children's bedroom.

The next morning, the air at breakfast was heavy with unspoken tension, a quiet that felt both fragile and strained. Ava, Xavier, and their two children sat around the large dining table, the clinking of utensils the only sound breaking the silence. Ava, her face calm but distant, was gently feeding boiled eggs and fruit to the boys. Xavier, seated at the head, silently observed the scene with an unreadable expression. His mind wrestled with the surreal reality before him—he was now a father, yet the weight of this new identity still hadn't fully sunk in.

Alexander and Lucas, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between their parents, focused only on their breakfast. Their innocence contrasted sharply with the tension that radiated between the adults. Xavier's gaze remained fixed on Ava, noticing every slight movement she made. Her presence was a reminder of the past he could never quite escape, and the future that was now intricately tied to theirs.

As Ava finally sat down to eat, Xavier's attention shifted to her plate. The paltry amount of food she took for herself caught his eye—a few slices of fruit, a bite of bread, barely enough to sustain her. He frowned, concerned but also puzzled by how much she had changed. She was a shadow of the woman she used to be, and it was becoming increasingly evident in every detail, from the way she spoke to the way she nourished herself. Her thin frame and pale complexion had not gone unnoticed by him.

Without a word, Ava finished her meal and quietly excused herself, her departure as silent as her presence had been. Xavier watched her go, his eyes narrowing slightly before he turned toward the kitchen staff.

"From tomorrow," he commanded, his tone firm and unyielding, "dinner for the four of us will be served in my bedroom." His voice carried a finality that left no room for questioning, his authority clear. With that, he left the room, walking with purpose.

As he made his way through the house, Xavier found Ava standing near the large window, gazing out at the garden. The sunlight caught the highlights in her hair, but there was a heaviness about her, a weariness that hadn't been there before. He approached her, his footsteps almost silent against the hardwood floor.

"Starting tomorrow, would you like to rejoin the company?" he asked, his voice casual yet loaded with intent.

Ava turned slightly, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation. "Yes, I'll rejoin," she said, her tone calm but questioning. "But why did you change the company's name to Ettolarhc Industries?"

Xavier's lips curled into a bitter smile, a hint of irony in his expression. "I guess that's none of your concern either," he replied coolly, meeting her gaze with a piercing look. "You'll be the co-CEO."

"What? Why?" Ava asked, her eyes widening in surprise as she fully turned to face him.

"You're my wife now," Xavier said matter-of-factly, as if the answer was obvious. "And I'm not giving you that title because of our marriage, but because you deserve it. You have the intelligence and the capability. My decision is final."

Before Ava could respond, Xavier turned on his heel and walked out, leaving her standing by the window, questions swirling in her mind. As he exited, a bitter truth settled over her—Ettolarhc, the name of the company, was actually her middle name spelled backward. He had named the company after her, a gesture that felt more like a calculated move than a tribute.

The new logo, designed by Mia, only deepened the complex web of their lives—an intricate tangle of past hurts, unresolved emotions, and looming responsibilities.

*

Noah returned to Virginia a man changed by the darkness he had faced, having successfully dismantled the last of the mafia groups and rescuing countless innocent girls from a life of torment. The mission had taken everything out of him, but his sense of triumph was overshadowed by an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. Upon his arrival, he was greeted with the sight of Ava and Xavier together once again—married. The very woman who had disappeared without a trace, leaving Xavier in pieces, was now back in his life as if nothing had ever happened. The shock and frustration simmered inside Noah.

Days passed like a blur, and though outwardly life seemed to settle into a rhythm, the undercurrents of unresolved tension pulled at everyone. Mia and Ava had managed to mend their fractured friendship, taking slow steps toward the closeness they once shared. The three children—Ava's two boys and Mia's little girl—filled the house with innocent laughter, chasing each other around the garden, oblivious to the adults' strained interactions.