UNGRATEFUL DAUGHTER

The soft strains of music from the party faded into the background as Ava took another turn away from the hall. A thrill ran through her veins. She was delighted, and it was so intoxicating that she almost laughed out loud.

In her attempt to check whether or not this was real, her fingers brushed against the fake diamond necklace around her collarbone, the one she was forced to purchase because of Sasha. Never in her wildest dreams would she had ever guessed that she would be able to change the dreadful memories from her past that hunted her throughout her life.

Her family's faces from Matilda down to Sasha, one after the other as they knelt down to beg for mercy still played in her head and Ava could barely stop herself from grinning like a child handed candy to. Only Gaulin was spared, because he didn't directly accuse her. He just threatened to throw her out of the house if she lied about Sasha. Otherwise, he'd have been met with the same fate.

Matilda's face had been the worst when William had asked her to kneel before Ava. She looked like she would rather die than do it. Ava could understand her tho. Imagine kneeling in front of your daughter in the presence of all the elites in the city. But she eventually did.

Ava's smile widened as a painting on the wall drew her attention. She stood in front of it and studied it.

.

At the far end of the hallway, near the grand entrance, the heavy doors swung open with a soft creak. A family stepped inside - two men and two women. Their arrival lacked the ostentatious flair of the other elite families mingling at the party, but they carried themselves with a quiet dignity. Their attire too was modest.

The newcomers paused briefly with wide eyes as they took in the grandeur of the place. The largeness of the building, the gleaming marble floors, and the chandeliers above seemed to momentarily overwhelm them.

The younger woman, clearly the daughter of the family, took a step away from her family. Her curiosity pulled her further into the mansion, but as her gaze landed on Ava, she froze mid-step, and her breath hinged as if she'd seen a ghost.

Her eyes darkened instantly, and her expression shifted from shock to something unsettling. Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Then, regaining her voice, she turned sharply toward her family.

"Mother! Mother!" she called out hurriedly, admidst the low conversations in the hallway, trying to gain the attention of the woman whose eyes flickered over every detail of the mansion like she was trying to imprint it into her memory. The daughter's insistent cries finally snapped her out of her daze, and she turned toward the girl with a frown of irritation.

"What is it now?" the woman asked, fuming.

"Look," the girl hissed, pointing toward Ava. "It's Ava."

The woman's brow furrowed, and she squinted toward where the girl was pointing. Her gaze landed on Ava, who stood about sixty feet away. All they could see was her side view. At first, the woman hesitated as her mind tried to reconcile the name with the unfamiliar figure before her.

There was a faint resemblance in the height, the woman noted. But beyond that, the similarities ended. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she shook her head.

"Don't be ridiculous," the woman said, "Your sister was... skinnier, frailer. Her complexion--" She stopped herself, and her eyes narrowed as doubt crept into her voice.

Her adopted daughter was pale and fragile, timid too, nothing in comparison to the girl that stood ahead of them, carrying herself with confidence. But still... There was something in the way Ava tilted her head, the way the light caught her features, that stirred unease in her chest.

"But it's her!" the girl insisted, her voice rising. "I'd recognize her anywhere, Mother. It's Ava-- I swear it."

The woman's face hardened as she finally recognized Ava. Her lips parted, and she let out a disbelieving whisper, "It's really her."

Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling from anger that bubbled just beneath the surface. She turned sharply to her husband, "Look, honey. It's your little ungrateful daughter," she said.

Patrick Lane, a stern-looking man with graying temples, followed his wife's gaze. His expression darkened the moment his eyes landed on Ava, who stood oblivious, staring at a painting. His jaw clenched, and a muscle twitched near his temple.

Emily Lane, his daughter, boldened by her mother's reaction, tugged at her father's sleeve. "See? I told you it was her! She's here, living with the Whitlocks, and pretending that we don't exist."

Claudia's lips curled into a mocking smile as she glanced at her husband. "After everything we did for her, she has the audacity to walk around like she belongs here. The nerve."

Patrick's voice was cold, "Keep your voice down," he growled with his eyes still fixed on Ava. "We'll handle this privately. I don't want a scene."

But his wife wasn't so easily placated. "A scene?" she hissed. "After everything we did for her, she abandoned and left us, Patrick. She deserves a scene!"

Emily chimed in with spite. "Mother is right, father. Ava thinks she's above us now. Look at her, dressed like she owns the place when few days ago, she was begging for leftovers in our house."

Unaware of the storm brewing behind her, Ava shifted slightly, still admiring the painting. Her calm face only added fuel to their rage.

Gravely enraged, Claudia stepped forward. She took three steps, before her husband grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Not here," he warned her. "If we confront her now, it'll attract attention. We need to be smart about this."

"Father," Simon, Patrick's son spoke for the first time. "You shouldn't stop mother from doing whatever she wants. Ava has wronged us. Someone has to put her in her place," he said sternly.

As Ava turned slightly, revealing more of her face, the woman couldn't hold back any longer.

"It's her," Claudia's voice trembled in anger as she hissed again. Before any member of her family could react, she approached Ava hurriedly. Emily and Simon trailed closely behind her with smug satisfaction on their faces.

Patrick hesitated for a moment as his eyes darted toward the crowded hall. He sighed heavily before following his family. He knew his wife more than anybody. She was going to create a huge scene.

"Mother," Emily whispered eagerly with malice as she kept pace. "Let me talk to her first. I can--"

"No," Claudia snapped, still walking. "Let your mother handle her first, Emily."

Patrick quickened his pace to catch up to his wife. "Claudia, we're surrounded by people, important people. If you make a scene, it'll be us who look foolish."

Claudia didn't slow down. Her eyes were locked on Ava like a predator stalking prey. "Let them watch," she spat. "Let them see what kind of person she really is."

Simon chuckled darkly as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his tailored jacket. "Relax, Dad. Ava's the one who should be embarrassed, not us. Once Mother's done with her, she won't dare show her face here again."

Emily smirked. "She deserves it for everything she put us through. The ungrateful brat."

Patrick's jaw tightened. "And what exactly do you plan to say, Claudia? That she had the audacity to move on with her life? You'll look bitter."

Claudia whipped her head around, and her eyes flashed with fury as she looked at her husband. "She owes us!" she snapped. "For everything we sacrificed for her. For the years we spent raising her so she didn't starve and die on the streets, for the shame she brought to this family. She doesn't get to stand there, smiling, like she's better than us."

Patrick sighed, running a hand down his face. He didn't disagree. Ava owed them for raising her. It wasn't their fault that she was a thankless wretch who cut herself from them without leaving even a penny after everything they did for her when her new family were the wealthiest in the whole city. Someone had to put her in place.

Ava finally grew tired of watching the painting, and her attention shifted from the painting to the hallway ahead. Her serene smile froze, then slowly melted away. Her posture stiffened, and her fingers unconsciously curled into her palms. Them. Her adoptive family, of all people, standing in the Whitlock's mansion. What were they doing here?

She couldn't recall ever meeting them again in her previous life, especially not here. As they closed the distance, Ava forced herself to breathe. She straightened her posture and allowed her lips to curve into a faint smile. This evening just got better.