Page 8 of Revenge

Chapter Four

Viktor

My wedding is scheduled for three hours from now. I’ve been sitting at my desk for the last hour trying to figure out how it got to this. I’m supposed to marry Fiona, but I should be marrying Ava. Oliver hasn’t found Ava either, which isn’t helping. My father and Cillian are up to something, and I can’t figure out what.

As I wait, I stare at a picture I took of Ava. She’s sitting on the couch reading a magazine. It was a Tuesday afternoon, she was wearing leggings and a sweater, and she looked so happy. It feels like I took the picture a lifetime ago. Life will never be that simple again. Not that I think it ever was.

“Viktor,” Oliver calls.

“What?” I bark.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Have you found her yet?” I question.

“Not yet. But it’s not what I was telling you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about anything other than her.”

“We have to leave in an hour. Ava’s things have been moved to storage. Fiona has moved in, and her things are in your bedroom.”

This gets my attention.

“I want her things out of my bedroom immediately.”

“Where do you want them?”

“Bedroom downstairs. I want her as far away as possible.”

“She isn’t going to like that,” he tells me, like it matters to me. I could not care less what Fiona likes or wants.

“I don’t give a fuck what she likes. Have Mary move Fiona’s things before I get back from the wedding.” I stand and pour myself a drink. I might have to marry Fiona for the sake of Ava’s safety, but it doesn’t mean I have to have Fiona in my space.

Oliver puts his hand on my shoulder.

“I wish there was something I could say or do for you.”

“Find her. She’s on her own. Her life is in danger, and it’s my fault.” I close my eyes and rub my temple. I think this is what is killing me most.

I leave my office without letting him answer. All this is making me want to kill someone, kill them all, but I have to keep myself level-headed. For Ava’s sake, I need to proceed with this pretense. The irony is not lost on me. Not so long ago, Ava and I were living in a pretense of our own. I should have done things so differently then.

Ava’s scent no longer lingers in my bedroom. I take the key to the bedroom across from mine. Ava’s old bedroom. It doesn’t have any of her things, but the faint scent of her lingers. Lavender. It’s the only trace left that she was ever in this house. Despite her things not being in the bedroom, everything reminds me of her. I should never have let her go that night, but I have to keep believing this is temporary. I leave the bedroom and lock it. Besides my office, it’s the only other room in this house I have chosen to keep locked while Fiona lives here. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll divorce her once my child is born. I’ll find Ava and make her my wife, as she should be.

“Mr. Manarch,” Mary greets me.

“Hello, Mary.”

“I want to let you know Ms. McIntyre’s belongings are being moved to the guest room downstairs, as you requested.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you be needing anything else?”

“I’ve locked Ava’s bedroom. I expect it to remain locked at all times.”

“Of course, Mr. Manarch.”

“Mary…” I feel like I should explain to her what is happening and why. But I’m not that man. I won’t show anyone anything that might be perceived as a weakness, not even Mary, who has shown great loyalty.

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