The applause from the grand ballroom thirty floors below filtered up through the floorboards like the muffled heartbeat of a dying storm.

The backstage area exploded into chaos the moment Ethan cleared the curtains.

PR reps rushed forward with tablets, hospital board members scrambled off their seats in the front row, and reporters began shouting questions from the barrier.

Andrew blocked Ethan’s path before he could reach the private elevator. Andrew’s mask had completely shattered. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and frantic, his teeth bared in a snarl that Ava had seen dozens of times in the privacy of their apartment.

"What was that?!" Andrew hissed, keeping his voice low enough to avoid the nearby microphone booms, though his body trembled with rage. "Are you insane, Carter?! You just implied on live television that the hospital board is corrupt! You just tanked our stock prospects!"

Ethan didn't stop walking. He stepped directly into Andrew’s personal space, forcing the surgeon to take a step back or be physically overrun.

"If you're innocent, Dr. Vaughn," Ethan said smoothly, his tone as light as feather and as heavy as a mountain, "then you have nothing to fear from an audit, do you?"

"I have a reputation to uphold!" Andrew snarled, his hand instinctively flying out to grab Ava’s arm to pull her behind him, asserting his dominance.

CLACK.

Before Andrew’s fingers could close around Ava’s wrist, Ethan’s hand shot out like a steel trap. He caught Andrew by the forearm, his grip so powerful that Andrew let out a sharp, involuntary gasp of pain.

Ethan leaned down, his face inches from Andrew’s ear.

"Touch her again in my presence," Ethan whispered, his voice so quiet and terrifying that the air around them seemed to freeze, "and I won't wait for the audit. I will dismantle your life brick by brick, Dr. Vaughn. Do you understand me?"

Andrew stared at Ethan, horror dawning in his eyes as he finally realized why Ethan’s speech had felt so personal. He looked at Ethan, then slowly turned his head to look at Ava, who was standing three feet away, her chin raised, her eyes no longer filled with the quiet, submissive fear he had cultivated over two years.

Andrew tried to pull his arm back, but Ethan held him pinned for two long, humiliating seconds before releasing him with contemptuous ease.

"Ava," Ethan said without looking back. "Get your coat. We're leaving."

"She isn't going anywhere with you!" Andrew barked, clutching his bruised arm, his voice rising in panic as several photographers pointed their long lenses toward the backstage corridor. "She’s my fiancée! She’s coming home with me in my car!"

Ava looked at Andrew. She saw the rage boiling behind his blue eyes—the promise of violence that awaited her the moment they crossed the threshold of his Upper East Side townhouse. She knew what would happen if she got into his limousine. The closed windows. The silence. The brutal, methodical punishment for "embarrassing" him in front of Ethan Carter.

She looked at Ethan.

Ethan stood near the open doors of his private executive elevator. He didn't reach for her. He didn't command her. He simply held the door open, offering her a choice she hadn't possessed in two terrifying years.

Ava took a deep, shuddering breath.

She reached down to her left hand. Her fingers caught the heavy, cold platinum band of her engagement ring. With one smooth, deliberate motion, she pulled the three-carat diamond off her finger.

She stepped toward Andrew, took his hand, and pressed the ring into his palm.

"Find another assistant, Dr. Vaughn," Ava said, her voice ringing out clear and resonant against the marble walls. "And find another victim."