Ivy flipped through the magazine absentmindedly, barely registering the glossy pages. The house felt too quiet and too cold, and no amount of distraction could shake the unease settling in her chest. The butler entered,as he gave a slight bow. “Ma’am, Master Harry is calling for you.” Her fingers tightened around the magazine. She hesitated. “Now?” The butler simply nodded. She let out a quiet breath, closing the magazine and setting it aside. “Alright.” As the butler turned and walked away, she stood, smoothing her dress. Her feet felt heavier than usual as she made her way to the stairs, her mind reeling with thoughts. Ivy knocked lightly before pushing the door open. Harry sat in his wheelchair, with an unreadable look on as he turned to face her. “The butler said you were calling me.” She frowned, arms crossed. “Yes, I was.” His tone was flat. “We have an event tonight.” “Event?” Her brows knitted together. “Yes, and you’ll be my plus one.” She blinked. “Wh
"Fuck!" Ivy shouted, yanking off the latest disaster of a dress and throwing it onto the growing pile on the floor. "None of these damn things fit!" She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. Her eyes flickered to the last dress—the one Harry had picked. The one she had refused to try because, of course, he couldn’t possibly know her size. Still, she was out of options. With a huff, she grabbed it and slipped it on. The moment the fabric settled against her skin, she froze. It fit. Perfectly. Like it had been made just for her. She turned to the mirror, her hands smoothing over the luxurious fabric, the deep blue hugging her curves in all the right places. It was sleek, elegant—expensive. Her lips parted slightly as she took herself in. "Damn…" she muttered under her breath. "He actually did know my size." She hated that. And maybe, just maybe, she kind of liked it too. Ivy had spent almost an hour wrestling with dresses, tossing one after anot
“Sit!” Madam Devereaux commanded, flicking her wrist dramatically as if she were casting a spell.Ivy plopped onto the chair, crossing her arms.Madam Devereaux sighed, muttering something in rapid French as she adjusted her silk scarf. “Mon dieu, such resistance. Americans…” She waved at her apprentice. “Vite, vite! We do not have all day.”The apprentice immediately got to work, laying out an intimidating number of makeup brushes.“We will start now,” Madam Devereaux announced, inspecting Ivy’s face like an artist assessing a blank canvas. “You will cooperate.”Ivy exhaled through her nose. “Yeah, yeah.”“Non, non.” Madam Devereaux tapped Ivy’s forehead lightly. “Less frowning. Wrinkles are not chic.”Ivy forced her face into a neutral expression, but her frustration was obvious.“Good girl,” the woman said, smirking as she reached for a foundation brush. “Now, let’s make you look like someone worth standing next to Monsieur Hendrix.”Ivy barely had time to process what was happenin
They stepped outside where a sleek black SUV was waiting. The chauffeur stood by, ready, but Ivy instinctively moved to help Harry into the car. He shot her a —half irritation look that seemed to scream to her to stop.Once he was settled, she climbed in beside him.The drive was smooth, the city lights flashing past in streaks of gold and blue. Neither of them spoke.Ivy stared out the window, arms folded. The silence between them wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Harry, on the other hand, looked relaxed, one hand resting on his lap, the other tracing slow patterns on the leather seat.She stole a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at her. It was going to be a long night.The SUV rolled to a stop in front of the grand entrance of the exclusive venue. Ivy barely had time to take in the towering, chandelier-lit hall before her eyes landed on the oversized posters plastered across the entrance—The newlyweds to be —Sasha and Adrian, smiling like a power couple str
"Excuse me! I believe I should be the one answering that," a rich, feminine tone carried over the murmuring crowd.Heads turned, and Ivy wasn't the least bit surprised to see Sasha’s mother striding forward, poised and calculated. She held a crystal champagne flute with the ease of a woman used to commanding attention, her expensive jewelry glinting under the chandeliers.Harry’s jaw tightened as she approached."Harry," she drawled, her red lips curving into a smirk. "I see you finally grew a spine and decided to show up." She took a leisurely sip of her drink, letting the tension boil gently before turning to the press with the kind of grace only years of wealth and influence could teach.“Well, my daughter knows exactly what’s best for her,” she announced, making sure her words carried across the room. “She is about to marry the love of her life, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.”The journalists, sensing the charged atmosphere, pounced."Mrs. Laurent, does this mean Sasha has compl
The wedding carried on as if nothing had happened. The music swelled, the clinking of glasses and polite laughter filled the grand hall. Sasha, draped in her designer gown, carried herself with that rich practiced ease, her hand resting delicately in Adrian’s as they made their rounds. She didn’t spare Harry a glance—not once.Which was ironic, considering she was the one who had invited him.Harry leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest, his expression was unreadable. If Sasha thought she could act like he didn’t exist, she had another thing coming.Ivy, sitting beside him, felt the shift in his energy. His jaw was set and his smirk was calculating something. He wasn’t just here to watch—he had his own plans in mind.She didn’t know what exactly, but judging by the way his gaze flickered to Sasha, how his lips curled slightly like he was enjoying some inside joke—she knew it wouldn’t be anything good."The moment we’ve all been waiting for!" the
"Let me go, you motherfucker, or I’ll shout!" Adrian hissed, stumbling back, his eyes wild with fear.Harry cocked his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. He lifted the gun slightly, his finger grazing the trigger. "You shout, I pull the trigger," he said, his voice eerily calm.Adrian swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His back hit the sink, nowhere left to go. "You’re insane," he breathed.Harry let out a dark chuckle. "Took you this long to figure that out?""I always knew you were," Adrian spat, gripping the edge of the sink like it could save him. "That’s why Sasha left you, you bloody criminal."Harry’s jaw clenched, but his smirk stayed. "Oh, is that what she told you?" He took a slow, measured step forward, lifting the gun just enough to make Adrian flinch. "Funny, because last I checked, she still can't get me out of her damn head."Adrian’s breathing turned ragged. "You're delusional."Harry chuckled darkly. "And you’re running out of time."Adrian swallowed hard,
The door burst open.Gasps filled the hallway.Harry stood—on his feet—gun still gripped in his hand.For a moment, silence.Then—"Ahh!" Adrian let out a strangled groan, clutching his stomach as he staggered back, his legs wobbling like they were about to give out. His face twisted in pain, his body slumping against the wall.Sasha’s scream tore through the air. "You shot him?!"Ivy’s hands flew to her mouth.Harry didn’t move. His jaw clenched, his knuckles white around the gun."I—I didn’t—"Adrian groaned louder, his breathing ragged. "Damn… I didn’t think you’d actually do it, man…" He slid down to the floor, his hand pressing over his stomach, shaking.Blood.Or at least, what looked like it.Security stormed in, guns drawn."Drop the weapon!"Harry’s heart pounded. His head snapped toward Adrian, who was giving the performance of a lifetime.That bastard.He hadn’t even fired the damn gun.Sasha’s chest heaved as she pointed a trembling finger at Harry, her eyes blazing with f
Ivy slammed her glass down, making the ice rattle. Her patience was running thin."So tell me, Roberto!" she snapped, her eyes burning with frustration. "Why the hell are you so obsessed with destroying your own family?"Roberto exhaled slowly, the smirk on his face fading. He swirled his drink, staring into it as if the answer lay at the bottom of the glass."You want the truth?" he muttered. He leaned back, stretching an arm over the couch, his fingers lazily brushing against the blonde curled up beside him. She didn’t react—probably too drunk or high to care."I was supposed to be him," Roberto said bitterly. "Karl Hendrix. The golden boy. The heir. The one my father groomed to take over the empire." He scoffed, shaking his head. "But Karl? He was perfect. Clean. Calculated. And me?" He chuckled darkly. "Too wild too reckless as they had called me . A disappointment."Ivy watched him, arms crossed, waiting."My father gave Karl everything—everything that should’ve been mine. Power
The clanking of boots against the cold prison floor made Ivy tense. She knew what was coming."Time's up," the guard announced, his voice flat and uninterested.Ivy ignored him, her hands still resting on Harry’s, her fingers tracing the roughness of his knuckles. "I don’t want to go yet," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.Harry exhaled sharply, his eyes burning into hers. "You have to," he said, his jaw tightening. "You’ve done enough, Ivy. Don't wear yourself out for me."Her throat tightened. “You’re behind bars because of them. I’m not stopping till I get you out.”The guard shifted impatiently. “Miss, I said time’s—”Harry’s head snapped toward him, his voice a dangerous growl. “Don’t dare touch her. I don’t care if I’m behind bars.”The guard hesitated, taking a step back.Ivy turned back to Harry, her chest aching. "I’ll be back," she promised.Harry leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers through the bars. “Be careful, Ivy.” His voice was rough, filled with
Ivy spent the next twelve hours chasing ghosts.Agent after agent, office after office—each door she knocked on came with the same answer: No.First, it was a stiff-faced woman at the state security office, who barely looked up from her computer as she muttered, “We don’t issue access passes for criminal detainees without higher authorization.”Then, at the Department of Justice, a man with tired eyes and coffee-stained sleeves shook his head. “Sorry, Miss Ivy. Even as his lawyer, you need clearance from someone way above my pay grade.”By the time she reached her fourth contact—a private consultant who claimed he had “connections”—Ivy was already drained. But she still pulled out a thick envelope of cash, sliding it across the table.The man, a greasy-haired official with a nervous smile,eyed the money before exhaling. “Miss Ivy, I like money. But I also like breathing. And granting you this? That’s a one-way ticket to making powerful enemies.”She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I j
“And I vow to end Harry.” Valeria’s lips stretched into a slow, wicked smile, her fingers twitching toward the stack of cash. “Now, may I have those?”She flinged her wrist, sending the crisp dollar bills scattering onto the dusty floor. “Knock yourself out,” she muttered, watching as Valeria lunged for the money like a starved dog.Four down.She turned on her heel, stepping over a stray bill as she walked out. There were still nine more names on her list.Her phone rang, breaking the silence. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen.A news notification flashed. She tapped it, and a live broadcast played—in a sleek newsroom, a stern-faced reporter held some stack of papers."Breaking news. The long-anticipated Hendrix trial has officially been scheduled for September 26th. After days of speculation, the court has confirmed the date for what is expected to be one of the most controversial cases in recent history..."Ivy’s grip on her phone tightened. September 26th.The countdown
Ivy let her lips part slightly, eyes lowering as if she were just another woman caught in Vincenzo Moretti’s web. But she wasn’t.She took a slow step forward, letting her fingers trail down the thin strap of her dress. “I heard you like obedience,” she murmured, voice honeyed and sultry. The glow of the chandelier shone against the expensive scotch in his glass.Moretti smirked, his gaze raking over her. “Obedience is good.” He took a sip, eyes darkening. “But submission is better.”She nearly gagged. Instead, she lowered herself onto the armrest of his chair, legs crossed deliberately. The scent of alcohol and cigars clung to him. She picked up his glass, swirling the liquid before pressing it to her lips—just enough to tease.“Tell me something,” she purred, tilting her head. “You’ve been around a long time, haven’t you? Longer than the Hendrix name.”Moretti’s smirk faltered for half a second. He leaned back, swirling his drink as if contemplating her words. Bingo.“You ask dan
Ivy picked up the heavy bottle of whiskey from the table, her fingers wrapping around its cool glass. She poured a generous amount into a glass, then lifted it to Damien’s lips, tilting it just enough for the liquid to slide past his lips.“Tell me, baby…” she whispered, her lips grazing his ear as she leaned in. “I need to know.”Damien chuckled, the deep rumble of his voice tinged with the sluggishness of alcohol settling in his system. He swallowed, his head tipping back against the couch, eyes half-lidded but still sharp. “You’re a dangerous woman,” he murmured. Ivy only smiled, running her nails lightly down his chest, keeping him exactly where she wanted him. “And you’re a man with secrets.”Damien exhaled, tapping his fingers against the glass. The whiskey had loosened his tongue, and Ivy saw the moment his restraint cracked.“Harry Hendrix…” he muttered, rolling the name over his tongue like a curse. His fingers curled tighter around the glass. “That bastard is my stepbrother
"Ivy, I think it’s time you leave," Adrian’s voice cut through the tension as he strode toward them. His eyes bore until hers. "You can’t just come here and boss my wife and I around."Sasha exhaled in relief, using the moment to slip away from Ivy’s piercing questions. She moved toward Adrian, subtly hiding behind him, as if he were her shield.Ivy twisted her jaw, her eyes jerking between the both of them. She already knew she had other things to handle—things more important than wasting time with people who refused to face their own demons.Without another word, she turned on her heels, throwing one last icy glance at Sasha before stepping out of the house.Her next target was Damian Francis—one of the names burned into the Kill Row image Harry had hidden in his basement.There were twelve more on the list, twelve more lives tangled in whatever twisted truth she was uncovering. But Ivy knew better than to rush.One step at a time.With all the evidence she had gathered, Damien Fra
Ivy knelt beside Sasha, her lawyer instincts momentarily giving way to simple human compassion. Sasha's cheek was already turning red from the slap, her eyes wide with shock and unshed tears.Before Ivy could say anything, Adrian grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet. His grasp was tight and his frustration was obvious."Face your own damn problems, Ivy," he hissed, lowly "Leave my wife and I out of whatever mess you and Harry have created."Ivy squared her shoulders, unfazed by Adrian’s towering presence. “I’m not here for you, Adrian. I need a word with Sasha. Can you move?” She said confidently not minding his daring disgusted eyes.Adrian let out a low chuckle, folding his arms across his chest. “Why won’t you just talk here?” His gaze snapped toward Sasha, whose face was streaked with tears, yet she still forced a weak, practiced smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Or are you scared of something?”Ivy glanced at Sasha, reading the silent plea behind her trembling ma
Adrian’s MansionAdrian lounged on the velvet couch, one arm draped over the side, his fingers lazily tapping against the glass of whiskey in his hand. The glow of the TV flashed across his sharp features as the news played, the voice of the journalist cut through the quiet. "Fugitive billionaire heir Harry Hendrix has finally been captured..."A curled one lip tugged at Adrian’s lips. “About time,” he muttered, swirling the drink.Sasha slipped onto the couch beside him, her manicured nails brushing against his arm as she leaned in to watch. A satisfied smile curled on her lips. “Thank God I broke up with him when I did,” she sighed dramatically. “Can you imagine? If I stayed, maybe I’d be the one in trouble. He could’ve killed me, Adrian. Or worse… you.”Adrian’s grip on the glass tightened. His jaw tensed. Without warning, he turned to her, his eyes dark. “You think you’d be that important to him?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the fake concern in hers.Sasha flinched,