The Illusion of Us: Why the Original Ending Left Us Wanting More
We have all been there. You are scrolling through TikTok or Facebook, and an ad for a story called Ten Years a Ward or The Illusion of Us (Ava and Ethan) catches your eye. It is the classic billionaire guardian trope, filled with years of unspoken longing and the promise of a fairytale. But as we dive deeper into the chapters on MoboReader or GoodNovel, that promise often turns into a bitter pill to swallow.
The central conflict of The Illusion of Us (Ava and Ethan) revolves around a betrayal so profound it feels personal. Ava Miller has spent the better part of a decade—six years as a partner and ten as his ward—molding herself into the perfect woman for Ethan Hayes. She was the silence in his chaotic world, the support system for his billion-dollar empire, and the woman waiting at the end of the aisle. Then, Chloe appears.
In the original narrative, readers expressed massive frustration with the 'weak heroine' trope. Watching Ethan cold-bloodedly choose Chloe, believing her transparent lies, and leaving Ava to crumble was a visceral kind of pain. The user sentiment across Reddit and Goodreads is clear: we didn't just want Ava to leave; we wanted her to win. We wanted the illusion to shatter, not for her, but for him. Below, we present the version of the story where Ava Miller stops being a victim and starts being the architect of her own justice.
The Blueprint for a Better Betrayal
To fix the narrative of The Illusion of Us (Ava and Ethan), we have to address the power imbalance. Ethan Hayes operates on the assumption that Ava is a permanent fixture—a loyal dog who might whimper when kicked but will never leave the porch. To dismantle this, we must use the very thing Ethan values most: his legacy and his control.
In this creative re-imagining, we pivot away from the 'sad pregnancy trope' or the 'quiet disappearance.' Instead, we lean into the 'Scorched Earth' strategy. Ava hasn't just been a silent companion for ten years; she has been an observant ward. She knows where the bodies are buried, both figuratively and financially. This isn't just a story of a broken heart; it is a story of a business takeover.
The following scene takes place at the pivotal moment of the rehearsal dinner, the night the mask finally slips.
Chapter One: The Ledger of Lost Years
The silk of her dress felt like a second skin, cold and unforgiving. She stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching him. He was leaning in toward the woman with the porcelain face and the calculated tears. The woman who had appeared only three months ago but had managed to dismantle a decade of history with a few well-placed sighs.
"She's fragile, Ava," he said, his voice a low vibration she used to find comforting. Now, it just sounded like rust on an old hinge. "You have to understand. I can't leave her alone tonight."
She looked at the man who had been her guardian, her mentor, and eventually, her world. "Tonight is our rehearsal dinner, Ethan. The guests are in the next room. My brother is in the next room."
He didn't even look at her. His hand was firmly on the other woman's waist. "The guests can wait. Chloe's panic attack is real. Yours is just jealousy. Don't be small, Ava. It doesn't suit you."
Something inside her, a thread she had kept pulled tight for ten years, finally snapped. It wasn't a loud break. It was a silent, clean severing. She realized then that she hadn't been waiting for a marriage; she had been waiting for a reason.
"You're right," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that made him pause. "It doesn't suit me at all."
He sighed, a sound of profound boredom. "Go back to the table. I'll be there in an hour. Just tell them I'm taking a business call."
She watched them walk away—his tall, broad frame shielding the smaller woman from the world. He didn't look back. He never looked back. He was so certain of her presence that he treated her like the floor beneath his feet. Useful, necessary, but never once thanked for holding him up.
She didn't go back to the table. She went to the suite upstairs.
Her fingers didn't tremble as she opened the laptop. For ten years, she had managed his personal accounts, his private foundations, and the intricate web of trust funds that kept the Hayes name untarnished. He had given her his passwords as a sign of 'trust,' though she knew it was really out of a desire for convenience. He didn't want to be bothered with the minutiae of his own wealth.
She logged into the main server of the Hayes Group.
She wasn't looking for money. She had enough of her own, tucked away in the accounts he never bothered to check. She was looking for the 'Genesis Protocol'—the expansion plan for the New York harbor project. It was his obsession, the crown jewel that would cement his legacy.
And it was built on a foundation of permits that she had personally secured through her family’s connections—connections that belonged to her, not him.
With three clicks, she withdrew the Miller family’s support from the environmental impact study. With another, she sent a scheduled email to the board of directors. It wasn't a resignation. It was a disclosure.
She attached the audio file she had recorded fifteen minutes ago. The sound of him admitting that he was using the company’s private jet to ferry a non-employee across state lines for personal 'medical emergencies'—a direct violation of the new ethics bylaws he had so arrogantly signed last month.
It was small. It was petty. It was devastating.
By the time the board read it tomorrow morning, the stock would dip. By the time he realized why, she would be gone.
She packed a single suitcase. No jewelry he had bought her. No dresses that were selected to match his ties. Just her passport, her degrees, and the small black notebook she had kept since she was sixteen.
As she walked down the back staircase, she passed the kitchen staff. They looked at her with pity. They knew. Everyone knew.
She stepped out into the rain, the cold air hitting her lungs like a shot of adrenaline. For the first time in a decade, she didn't care where he was. She didn't care if Chloe was crying or if the wedding flowers were wilting in the ballroom.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from him.
'Where are you? The soup is being served. Don't make a scene.'
She smiled, a sharp, jagged thing. She didn't reply. Instead, she blocked the number.
She hailed a cab, the yellow light a beacon in the dark.
"Where to, miss?"
"The airport," she said, leaning her head back against the seat. "And don't hurry."
She watched the city lights blur. He would find out soon. He would find out that the woman he called 'small' was the only thing that had been keeping his world large. He would find out that Chloe’s fragility was a luxury he couldn't afford once the Miller name was stripped from his masthead.
She wasn't the ward anymore. She wasn't the fiancée. She was the ghost that was about to haunt every board meeting and every empty room in that cold, glass mansion.
And as the plane took off three hours later, she felt the weight of ten years lift off her chest. The illusion wasn't that he loved her. The illusion was that she needed him to be whole.
He had spent a decade teaching her how to be a Hayes. He should have spent more time learning how to be a Miller.
The Deconstruction: Why Agency Matters in Modern Romance
What we just read is the ending that the fans of The Illusion of Us (Ava and Ethan) truly deserve. The reason the 'app novel' format is so successful is that it taps into deep-seated feelings of inadequacy and betrayal. However, the 'Redemption Arc'—where the hero grovels for fifty chapters and the heroine eventually takes him back—often feels hollow.
Psychologically, readers are moving away from the 'Forgiveness at all Costs' trope. In the modern landscape of stories like Ethan and Ava, the 'Information Gain' for the reader comes from seeing the power dynamic flip. When Ava uses her intelligence and her history to dismantle Ethan’s standing, she isn't just getting revenge; she is reclaiming her identity.
This rewrite addresses the primary user complaint: the weak heroine. By giving Ava the tools to strike back through the legal and financial systems she helped build, we transform her from a jilted lover into a formidable antagonist—or a brand new protagonist in her own right. This is the 'Female Gaze' applied to the billionaire trope: the realization that the man’s power is often a gift bestowed upon him by the women in his life.
The Verdict: Is the Journey Worth It?
If you are currently spending your hard-earned coins on The Illusion of Us by K. LASTELLA, the question remains: is the ending worth it?
The original version offers a slow-burn reconciliation that satisfies some, but for those seeking a more empowering conclusion, the 'Fix-it' approach is necessary. The story serves as a cautionary tale about the 'Ward' trope—how easily protection can turn into possession. Whether you choose to finish the official novel or prefer this alternate reality, the legacy of Ava and Ethan remains a cornerstone of modern digital angst.
FAQ
1. Does Ava end up with Ethan in the original book?
In most versions of the app-based novel, Ethan undergoes a long redemption arc and they eventually reconcile, though many readers find the 'happily ever after' forced after his betrayal.
2. Is 'The Illusion of Us' based on a true story?
No, it is a fictional romance novel that utilizes popular tropes like the 'billionaire guardian' and 'hidden pregnancy' to drive emotional engagement.
3. Where can I read 'The Illusion of Us (Ava and Ethan)' for free?
While the full book is usually behind a paywall on platforms like MoboReader, you can often find summaries and discussion threads on Reddit or snippets on TikTok.
4. Who is Chloe in the story?
Chloe is the antagonist/other woman who uses manipulation and fake crises to pull Ethan away from Ava, eventually leading to the story's climax.
References
amazon.com — The Illusion of Us on Amazon
moboreader.com — Ten Years a Ward - MoboReader
reddit.com — Ethan and Ava Community Discussion