Chapter 687 Avery, Do You Love Me? 3
Avery sat in the car, watching Isadora walk away.
His jaw tightened. Without another glance, he pulled away from her villa.
The moon hung high and cold, casting a pale light over the empty road. The faster he drove, the colder he felt inside, as if the night air had seeped into his bones.
He was lost in thought, so much so that the man who was always in control didn't even notice when the car drifted toward the median.
A deafening crash.
The front of the car slammed into the concrete barrier. Metal crumpled. Glass cracked. The airbag exploded in his face, knocking the breath out of him.
For a few seconds, he sat stunned, the taste of smoke and rubber thick in the air. Then, with deliberate slowness, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out.
Black smoke curled from under the hood. The car was done for.
At least no other vehicles had been on that stretch of road. He didn't want to imagine the alternative.
Standing under the harsh glow of a streetlamp, Avery wiped a hand down his face, pulled out his phone, and called Jennifer.
She worked fast. Less than twenty minutes later, a tow truck hauled his wreck away, and Jennifer herself pulled up to get him.
The moment she saw him, she froze.
In the darkness, Avery stood alone, coat hanging open, a cigarette between his fingers. His profile was flawless, but there was a weight in his expression she had never seen before.
Sadness.
She had never imagined that word belonging to him. Avery Montague had been born with the world at his feet. By twenty-five, he was running the Montague Group, his life an unbroken string of victories.
"Mr. Montague," she called softly. "It's freezing out here. Please, get in the car."
He took one last drag, crushed the cigarette under his heel, and slid into the back seat.
They drove in silence.
Jennifer glanced in the rearview mirror. "Sir, maybe you should go to the hospital. Just for a CT scan. That was a serious impact. If you've got a concussion, you'll need to rest."
"I'm fine," Avery said, his voice flat.
She had worked for him long enough to read his moods. Something had happened with Isadora—she would bet on it.
Trying to lighten the air, she said, "You and Isadora could make things work if you both met halfway. Life doesn't have to be a battlefield."
"There's nothing between us to salvage."
He didn't pause before adding, "Tell the Montague Group's legal team I want full custody of Maggie."
Jennifer blinked. For a moment, she could only stare at him in the mirror.
"Sir, maybe think about it again. Maggie's been raised by Isadora. Doing this will hurt her."
But Avery's decision was already made.
He said nothing. That silence told her everything.
Her tone cooled into something purely professional, "I'll take care of it for you. But I don't agree."
She knew she was pushing her luck, but the words kept coming. "You don't have to marry Isadora. You can marry someone young and beautiful if you want. But taking away her right to be a mother? You'll be leaving her with nothing."
"You're overthinking it."
The image burned in his mind—Tobias's hand on Isadora's waist, her not pulling away. It had hit him like a blade to the chest. His woman, smiling for another man?
And she hadn't denied it.
In the dark back seat, his voice was colder than winter rain. "Have the lawyers call her. She can name any price she wants. From where I stand, there's nothing she wouldn't sell."
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