Chapter 3 - The Leaseholder's SecretThe kitchen fell into a dead, suffocating silence.
I dropped my hands from Nolan's jacket, taking an involuntary step back as the implication of the paper in Ava's hand settled over the room like toxic smoke.
Nolan straightened his collar, smoothing down his leather jacket with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, though he was careful to stay a safe distance from my reach. He cast a triumphant glance at Ava, then back at me.
"Surprise," Nolan muttered, his voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. "You didn't think she was paying market rent for a three-bedroom loft in this neighborhood on a graphic designer's salary, did you, big guy?"
My chest tightened. I turned slowly to face Ava, my voice barely a rasp. "What is he talking about?"
Ava’s hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the paper. The tears spilling over her lashes weren't tears of sadness anymore—they were pure, incandescent fury. She looked at Nolan like she wanted to murder him with her bare hands.
"You lied to me," Ava whispered, her voice cracking. "You swore you sold your stake in the building when we split up."
"I lied," Nolan shrugged unapologetically. "Property in Minneapolis is a booming market, babe. And when I found out through mutual friends that you were shacking up here—sharing a roof with a guy who looks like a golden retriever missing a brain cell—I figured I'd check in on my investment."
He stepped closer to Ava, lowering his voice into a smooth, predatory purr. "In fact, according to the master lease, the secondary tenant's contract is tied directly to my corporate portfolio. Which means... your precious roommate here? He’s been living under my roof the entire time. And technically, I can evict him by midnight."
The room spun.
Nine months. Nine months of splitting utilities, buying groceries, complaining about the landlord, living and breathing in the same space—and all along, the ghost of Ava's past had been holding the literal keys to our apartment.
I looked at Ava, waiting for her to deny it, waiting for her to say it was all a sick joke. But the guilt washing over her face confirmed every agonizing word.
"You knew," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
"Ben, I didn't know he owned this specific unit," Ava pleaded, taking a desperate step toward me, her hand reaching out. "When I signed the sublet through the agency, the management company was anonymous. I swear to God, Ben, I didn't know until three weeks ago when I saw the tax records in the mail, and by then... by then I was already terrified to tell you because—"
"Because you were afraid I'd leave," I finished for her, the cold realization settling deep into my bones.
I looked at the floor, at the scattered sesame noodles, at my bare feet. The easy, comfortable life I thought I had built was built on a foundation of sand. I wasn't just standing outside a locked house anymore; I was standing inside a cage built by another man.
"Ben, please," Ava cried, stepping closer, her fingers finally brushing my arm. "It doesn't change anything between us. It never did."
"It changes everything," I said, stepping back out of her reach. The rejection felt physical, sharp and brutal.
I walked past Nolan without a word, grabbed my phone and wallet from the kitchen island, and headed straight for the front door.
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"Going somewhere, Lawson?" Nolan called out, laughing. "Don't forget to pack your hoodies!"
I slammed the apartment door so hard the drywall cracked, stepping out into the cold Minneapolis night without a coat, leaving Ava behind in her midnight-blue dress, alone with the ghost she thought she had escaped.
