Chapter 2Crown of Thorns

For years, the Old Man had been living abroad for his health. He was scheduled to return next month to officially pass on the Hawthorne Cane—the symbol of the family patriarch—to Caleb.

In his mind, Caleb was already the king.

After that night, I locked myself in my room. A cold war of silence descended on the house. For three days, I refused all food and drink.

Meanwhile, a barrage of text messages from Chloe lit up my phone.

You really think Caleb loves you? You’re just an arrangement, a business deal. Don’t get carried away.

Can’t you just disappear? Die off like the dinosaur you are and let Caleb have a real life, a life where he can find true love?

Then came the picture message. A close-up of a woman’s pale neck, covered in a galaxy of dark, angry bruises. Love bites.

Even with me pregnant, he can’t get enough. We’re together every single night. And you? After all these years, has he ever even touched you?

I deleted the message without a flicker of emotion and blocked the number.

It was the night of the Hawthornes’ monthly family dinner.

The long dining table was filled with aunts, uncles, and cousins, all of whom avoided my gaze, their faces etched with a mixture of pity and guilt over the canceled gala.

I walked toward my seat at the head of the table, beside the patriarch’s empty chair, but my steps faltered.

Chloe was sitting there.

She wore a simple white dress, an innocent smile gracing her lips, as if she were born to sit in that very spot. Caleb was in the patriarch’s chair beside her, placing a piece of salmon on her plate as if they were the only two people in the room.

A dead silence fell over the table. The air was thick with embarrassment.

I walked to the head of the table and stood before her.

“Get up.”

Chloe flinched as if I had struck her. Her chopsticks clattered to the floor. Her eyes immediately welled with tears as she shrank against Caleb’s side.

“Ava… I… I didn’t mean to.”

I ignored her performance, my voice low and even. “I said, get up.”

Caleb finally looked up, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Ava, what is it now? It’s just a chair. Are you really going to make a scene over a chair? Chloe’s pregnant. I want her close so I can look after her. What’s the big deal?”

I almost laughed. The absurdity of his words was breathtaking.

“A chair?” I pointed to the carved, high-backed seat. “Caleb, you tell me. Is this just a chair?”

My voice rose, echoing in the silent room. “This is the seat of the Hawthorne matriarch! What the hell is she, that she thinks she has the right to sit there?”

Caleb slammed his hand on the table, the silverware jumping. He shot to his feet, shielding Chloe behind him.

“She is carrying my child! My son! That means she is not an outsider!” he roared. “Ava Sterling, I respect you as my fiancée, but don’t you dare overestimate your importance! Anyone who tries to make her move from that seat answers to me!”

He stood there, a barricade, defying me—defying his entire family—for her.

A memory, sharp and painful, pierced through my anger.

I was ten years old, new to the Hawthorne mansion, a timid, frightened little thing. Some of the older cousins were teasing me, pushing me. Caleb, barely a teenager himself, had beaten them all to a pulp.

He had taken my hand, pulled me up the grand staircase, and announced to the entire household, “She’s with me. I protect her. One day, she will be the lady of this house. Anyone who makes her shed a single tear, I will make them wish they were never born.”

The boy who had once shielded me from the world with his own body was now using that same body to shield another woman from me. He was pushing me away, violently and completely.

The dinner ended in shambles.

Late that night, Caleb came to my room, smelling of whiskey and regret.

“Are you satisfied now?” he slurred.

I said nothing. I simply unlocked my phone and showed him the text messages from Chloe.

He stared at the screen for a moment, his drunken anger deflating. “She’s young,” he said, his voice regaining its composure. “A bit childish sometimes. I’ll apologize to you on her behalf.”

He moved behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist in a placating embrace. “Ava, I promise you, no matter what, you will be the lady of this house. The day I become patriarch next month, we’ll get married.”

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his voice a desperate plea. “After we’re married, Chloe’s child can even call you ‘Mom.’ But you have to promise me you’ll be more generous. You have to be patient with her, okay?”

“Disgusting.”

The word escaped me like a venomous hiss. I couldn't take it anymore. I shoved him away with all my strength.

“Who ever said I was going to marry you?!”