The rain came without warning, drumming steadily against the tall windows of the estate. The gray sky hung low over the gardens, and the smell of damp earth crept into the corners of the house. Avery sat at the vanity in her room, staring at her reflection in the gilded mirror. The faint dark circles under her eyes spoke of another restless night, and her pale complexion seemed ghostly in the dim light.
A knock at her door broke her reverie.
"Come in," she said softly.
Margaret, the housekeeper, stepped inside with a tray in hand. A steaming cup of tea and a small plate of pastries were neatly arranged.
"Mrs. Stone wishes for you to join her in the parlor after breakfast, Miss Avery," Margaret said, her tone polite but distant.
Avery nodded. "Thank you, Margaret."
The older woman hesitated, her eyes briefly softening as if she wanted to say something. But instead, she turned and left the room, her footsteps fading down the hallway.
The parlor was one of the grander rooms in the estate, filled with antique furniture, velvet drapes, and a fireplace that crackled softly. Vivian sat near the window, the morning light casting sharp lines across her face.
"Sit, Avery," Vivian said without turning around.
Avery took her place on the small sofa across from her mother. The air between them felt heavy, crackling with unspoken tension.
"I spoke with Ezra this morning," Vivian began, finally turning her sharp gaze on Avery. "He's been working late, avoiding meals, avoiding you. This cannot continue."
Avery's stomach twisted. "I've tried, Mother. I've tried speaking with him, but he…" She trailed off, her voice breaking slightly.
Vivian sighed, setting her teacup down with a sharp clink. "You cannot let him slip away further, Avery. You're walking a tightrope, and one wrong step will send you—and us—tumbling into ruin."
"Do you really think I don't know that?" Avery said, her voice trembling with frustration. "Do you think I don't feel it every time he looks at me like I'm… like I'm nothing?"
For a moment, Vivian's icy façade faltered. But it was brief, gone in a blink.
"Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and fix it," Vivian said coldly. "We cannot afford weakness."
The conversation ended there, and Avery was dismissed without another word.
The afternoon brought a brief break in the rain, and Avery took the opportunity to escape the oppressive weight of the house. She walked through the sprawling gardens, her coat pulled tightly around her. The air was crisp and damp, carrying with it the faint scent of roses from the greenhouse nearby.
She wasn't surprised when she spotted Ezra in the distance, standing beneath a large oak tree. He was staring down at something in his hand—a small, delicate object that gleamed faintly in the light.
Avery hesitated for a moment before approaching.
"Ezra," she said softly.
He turned slightly, his expression hardening the moment he saw her. He clenched his fist around whatever he was holding and shoved it into his coat pocket.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked curtly.
"I needed some air," Avery replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You seem to need it too."
Ezra's gaze drifted briefly to the sky before returning to her. "Is there something you wanted, Avery?"
She hesitated, her fingers curling into the fabric of her coat. "I just… I wanted to know if you're okay."
He let out a humorless laugh. "You care now? Or is this just another act?"
"It's not an act," Avery said firmly. "I know you don't believe me, and maybe you never will, but I—"
"Stop." Ezra's voice was sharp, and Avery fell silent. He turned away from her, his shoulders tense. "Just… stop."
For a moment, it looked as if he might say something more, but instead, he walked away, disappearing into the maze of hedges beyond the oak tree.
Avery stood rooted to the spot, the cold wind biting at her cheeks as tears stung her eyes.
The evening descended heavily upon the estate. Avery returned to her room, her body aching with exhaustion from the emotional strain of the day.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring down at her hands as the distant sound of rain began again, soft and rhythmic against the windows. The estate was quiet—too quiet.
A sharp knock shattered the stillness, followed by the sound of the door creaking open before Avery could respond.
Ezra stood in the doorway. His tie was loose, his shirt rumpled, and the faint scent of whiskey clung to him like an invisible shroud. His dark eyes, usually sharp and cold, were clouded with something unsteady—something raw.
"Ezra?" Avery whispered, rising slowly to her feet.
He didn't respond, just stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with a slow, deliberate motion. The click of the lock echoed in the silence.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Ezra's gaze swept over her, unreadable and intense.
"You're always here," he said, his voice rough, slurred slightly at the edges. "Sitting in her place. Wearing her ring."
Avery's chest tightened. "Ezra, you're drunk. You should—"
"Should what?" he snapped, taking a step closer. "Go to bed? Pretend you aren't here? Pretend this—you—isn't some twisted replacement for someone who's never coming back?"
His words cut deep, sharp as glass. Avery swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "I'm not trying to replace her, Ezra. I never was."
But he wasn't listening. He closed the distance between them in two steps, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm—not painfully, but firm enough to make her freeze.
"Do you know how wrong this feels?" His voice cracked slightly, his breath warm against her skin. "Every time I see you, every time I hear your voice, I think of her."
"Ezra, please…" Avery said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're not yourself right now."
As his grip tightened, Avery's breath hitched and overwhelming fear and dread spread through her body as he tore away her clothes and unbuckled is pants before mercilessly entering her.
He tormented her for hours before finally pulling out and leaving her naked on the bed covered in bruises as the door clicked shut behind him, leaving Avery alone once again in the suffocating quiet of her borrowed room.
She curled up on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as silent tears slipped down her cheeks.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, drumming steadily against the windows—unforgiving, relentless, and cold.