After Seven Empty Chairs, I Took My Daughter and Left Chapter 20

After Seven Empty Chairs, I Took My Daughter and Left Chapter 20

The riverside wind carried an early autumn chill and stirred the hair at Ava’s forehead. Elias raised his hand and gently tucked the loose strands behind her ear, then carefully adjusted the edge of her cashmere scarf. He carried a clean scent of cedar mixed with old book paper, a scent that made a person feel safe.

They were standing at the entrance of Ava’s newly opened art studio.

Bang.

A sharp crack, followed by the splash of hot liquid, shattered the peace.

A Starbucks plastic cup split open on the stone pavement, dark brown coffee splattering everywhere.

“Ava?”

That voice, so familiar it hurt, rang out.

Ava turned sharply. Noah stood a few steps away, his left hand still frozen in midair, in the posture of having accidentally dropped the coffee. Beside him, Sloane had her arm intimately hooked through his. The smug smile on her face stiffened the moment she saw Elias.

The familiar scent of Tom Ford cologne mixed with the bitter, burnt smell of coffee rushed toward Ava like a key, instantly unlocking the wounds she had sealed away. The phantom pain she had forced down tore open again beneath the healing scars, so painful she could barely stand.

Her gaze swept over Sloane’s neck. The Van Cleef & Arpels four-leaf clover necklace was the very one she had paused before countless times in the boutique window, only for Noah to say every time, “It doesn’t suit you.” Now it lay obediently on another woman’s collarbone, flashing with a blinding light.

Run. Run now.

A voice screamed inside her.

But Ava only took a deep breath, pressed down every surging emotion, and spoke coldly.

“Do you need something?”

Elias’s hand silently covered her trembling shoulder. The warm pressure was like a barrier, separating her from the world opposite them.

That gesture completely ignited the rage in Noah’s eyes. He stared hard at Elias’s hand on Ava’s shoulder, his pupils contracting sharply.

“One month apart, and you’ve already found yourself a boy toy?”

His words were poisonous ice, cold and malicious.

Sloane immediately cooperated with a faint, contemptuous smile, as if enjoying a show.

Noah deliberately stepped forward, bringing Sloane with him as he pressed closer, fully playing the role of a betrayed husband.

“Can’t you even say hello to an old friend?”

“I don’t think ‘boy toy’ is the appropriate term.” Elias suddenly gave a soft laugh. There was no warmth in it, only pure contempt. His fingers brushed over Ava’s shoulder, as if soothing a frightened cat.

“First,” he said, looking at Noah with calm, oppressive eyes, “according to the records of the Suffolk County court, you are officially divorced. Ava is a free woman. Who she is with has nothing to do with you.”

Elias turned slightly and indicated with his chin the clean glass window of the studio. Beneath the gilt letters reading “Ava Reed Art Studio,” a smaller line was clearly visible.

“Proudly Sponsored by the Mercer Family Foundation.”

Noah followed his gaze. The surname Mercer struck him in the face like a heavy punch. Everyone in Boston knew what the Mercer family meant.

Elias’s mind flashed back to the background report his assistant had sent him on Noah, those seven cold, empty chairs, each absence a nail driven into Lily’s hopes and Ava’s heart. Fury burned in his chest. He truly wanted to imitate a street thug from Brooklyn and land a hard punch on Noah’s jaw.

But he didn’t. He maintained the elegance of a young gentleman, though his tone carried an icy edge.

“Second, instead of concerning yourself with Ava’s private life, Mr. Whitaker, I hear your foundation has recently… encountered some trouble?”