Betrayed By Love, Rebuilt By Fate

e of sound that washed over me without really touching me. I was Ava Monroe, the best structural architect in the business, the one they called whe

nto the microphone, his voice booming through the

iancé, Liam Hayes, stood just offstage, his handsome

be," he whispered, his breath warm a

e looked proud, but his eyes kept flicking toward the cameras. "That's my

ster Chloe Vance included, was his priority now. Chloe wasn't here tonight. She was probably busy with one of her "psychi

ke up to horror. The newly completed Olympia Skyscraper had collapsed over

t, a warning about a specific joint design that I flagged as a potential fa

ief, the second blow landed. It ca

lo

sk of tragic, beautiful sorrow. Her eyes wer

ing. "I had a vision. A premonition of

in, asked, "Who did

he screen. "I told my stepsister, Ava Monroe. She's a structural architect. I

sed on. "Why woul

wait. To let the problem get worse so her firm could char

e, built on a sliver of truth. She must have seen my reports, overheard my calls.

firm, the same one that had given me an award

t and devoid of the warmth from the night before. "The bo

ut. "You have my reports

ychic foresaw it, and you, our star architect,

ne wen

one. I was the villain. The greedy architect who let people die for a bigger paycheck. Public o

thought, finall

s voice strained.

Liam? It's all l

ing me the fiancé of a monster. I can't have this attached to m

efore I coul

irectly. He sent a text. Ava, you have brought shame on this

doned. Every bridge I ha

designed after her death as a memorial, was vandalized. They spray-painted "MURDERER" on the benches I had installed.

some wearing shirts with the victims' faces on them, pry it

riverbank that night. The water was dark and cold. I could see the hate mail and rotten vegetables they'd thrown on

rough, familiar sh

The current was strong, pulling at my clothes, trying to drag me down. My fee

for a moment, my arms flailing, but the shock and the cold and the sheer despair were to

eath. It wasn't water filling my lungs

indow. My phone was on the nightstand, buzzing. I looked at the screen. The da

usation. Before th

ing of cold water still clung to my skin. I looked at my hands. They wer

aked face on the television. Liam's cold, dismissive

it would be

ed in the river was gone. In her place was someone who had seen the absolute worst in people she loved. I

tomorrow morning. I had less than a day. I scrolled through my contacts, past Liam, past my fathe

eview. The specific joint design I had flagged. The developer's emailed rejection of m

ned, too grief-stricken to use it effectively. This time, I wo

ut making Chloe Vance, the lying, manipulative social climber who used a national tragedy for fame, pay for what she did. And i