Just drabbley Ava thoughts as she watched Silas and Sam at Franco's opening.

Unsuccessfully, Ava resisted the urge to watch them leave. Them being Silas and her unwelcomed, unwanted niece.

Niece.

Not that she ever intended to use the term. But after so many years thinking the only family she had was Julian and her daughter, the thought of another living, breathing descendant of Victor Jerome felt...strange.

Make that two. There was the baby. Oh, how Victor would have treasured that. A great-grandson. Another Jerome male to carry on his legacy.

Not that her father wouldn't have doted on Kiki. But deep in her heart, Ava knew his interest in her daughter would have been as erratic as it'd been with his own. Feast or famine, depending on the demands of his family "business", his latest mistress or whether the Yankees, Giants or Knicks were in town.

It hadn't been easy being a Jerome woman, nevermind an illegitmate daughter who'd barged into his townhouse one morning and announced her arrival-seventeen years after the fact.

Sam was right-it was another thing they had in common. Julian seemed pleased with the idea of his instant family. Not that her father hadn't been, once he'd been convinced she wasn't hustling him. But Ava never had the impression she'd been more than an amusement-a stroke to his aging ego. He'd certainly never turned to a soft bowl of mush the way Julian had contemplating a youthful indescretion and the results thereof.

Of course, that was neither here nor there. The Jeromes had been a force during his lifetime. Not forced underground, powerless, barely scraping by while lesser families profitted from the groundwork he'd laid.

Powerless.

That had been exactly what she'd felt from the moment she'd seen Silas again.

After all the years of wondering. All the nights she'd looked into Kiki's face and seen him in a gesture, or a laugh, or the way she hated peas and ate her pizza-folded, saving the crust to dip in ranch dressing-nearly every night for the past twenty one years, to just run into him in some random hospital in her father's old territory.

Unbelievable.

The only thing more staggering: the way he'd dismissed her like what had been was nothing. That all that had been left behind was the fury and a cold reluctance to even look at her. She felt it with every venomous word he spat at her, twisting them like knives and flashing that grim slash of a smile every time she flinched in response.

She knew she had changed. Who she had been when they'd met-a struggling gallerina with ambitions that had grown to a fevered pitch as she waited for Julian to deliver on his promises-had morphed into someone she barely recognized herself when she looked into the mirror every morning.

Except when she looked at Kiki. Whatever she had done-whatever sin would be visited on her in the hereafter-Kiki was the one thing she'd done right. Ava had spent years protecting her from Franco's sick possessiveness. Years spent making sure no one could connect Kiki to Silas-for all the good that had done.

Silas knew why. Even if now he pretended otherwise, scorning her with every breath he took. He knew. His choice had been as irrevocable as hers had the day he'd left. He just hadn't realized how far the consequences would reach.

Then again, neither had she. If she'd only known she was pregnant, would telling him have kept him from walking away? In her dreams it had. And those dreams had sustained her; given her the strength to do what had been necessary.

If Kiki chose to hate her forever, she could live with that. What mattered was that she was safe. All Ava could hope for was that one day Kiki would understand that sacrifices that came with parenthood and the decisions she'd been compelled to make.

But he'd freeze in hell before Ava ever apologized. He could rewrite their history all he wanted. Her priority had been clear: Kiki. And had been since the moment she'd seen that sweet face look up at her. If she'd taken the hard line-that was too damn bad for Silas. Better safe than sorry had a whole different meaning in Ava's world.

Which left her the delicate question of what to do about Sam. Her insinuations about Silas' past had been met with distrust and skepticism. Egged on by Silas' careful denials, and Ava's own refusal to be specific, no doubt.

But the little urchin was Julian's daughter. And if something from Silas' past put Sam in danger-Julian would hold her responsible. That was not a price she was willing to pay. Not for some pint-sized, off-the-rack wearing, waiting-to-be-annointed princess nobody she didn't know and didn't want to know.

And not for Silas. The man she had loved no longer existed. He no longer deserved her allegiance or respect.

That realization surprised her.

All those years. No other man had touched that part of her. Or what had been left of her heart once he'd gone. The excitement of Franco had drained away quickly in the depths of his obsessions. But it had taught her a vaulable lesson. After him, the men in her life had been little more than visitors-recreational; strategic; kept at arm's length.

That had been her last illusion. That somewhere, his despair had matched her own. And that the minute he saw her, he'd realize how empty he'd been. Vow to never leave her again.

The way she'd humilated herself, begged for scraps of his time, hoped a kiss or dance would spark something in him sickened her.

What a fool she had been. Still been for that man.

If there was anything she despised, it was feeling like a fool.

Yet the sting seemed blunted somehow. Maybe pulling the scab off those long-bottled emotions had allowed the infectious puss of her anger to drain away. Maybe her survival skills and worry about Julian had simply left her too numb to feel anything until the danger was past.

Maybe there was more to Morgan's presence in her life than she'd care to admit.

Nevertheless...Silas would have to be dealt with. She could not let him destroy her now when she was on the verge of getting everything she'd wanted since the day she'd stood before Victor and taken the Jerome name as her own.

Ms. Samantha Morgan would have to be illuminated. The faster Ava severed the ties between her niece and her ex-lover, the safer they would all be.

As she watched them walk out of her gallery, too awkward to even touch as they hustled away, a steely resolve hardened. Silas would get his own reckoning at the hands of the truth-the same truth he'd claimed he'd been owed so many years ago-and what his life was afterward was no longer Ava's concern.

All she knew was she was free of her past. Never again would she wake in the middle of the night wondering where he was. What he was doing. Wanting to ask him did you ever miss me?

She no longer cared what the answer was.