Chapter 4

IVY POV

By the time I got back to the manor, the sky had already begun to dim.

The air here always felt different. Cleaner. Quieter.

Safer.

I hated that my body noticed it before my mind allowed it.

The moment I stepped inside, the butler appeared as if he had been waiting. “Miss Ivy, welcome back.”

I nodded faintly, handing my coat to one of the staff. My body felt heavier than before, exhaustion creeping in now that the adrenaline had faded.

“Did everything go smoothly?” he asked.

I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Depends on your definition of smoothly.”

He didn’t press. Smart man.

Instead, he gestured toward the inner hall. “The dresses are ready whenever you are.”

Right.

The wedding.

For a brief second, I considered refusing again.

But then I remembered the hotel.

Amy sitting in my seat.

Signing my work.

Smiling like she had already won.

My fingers curled slightly.

“No,” I said, my voice steady. “Let’s do it now.”

If this was a transaction, then I would treat it like one.

No emotions. No hesitation.

Just… completion.

The fitting room was larger than my entire bedroom back at the pack.

Soft lights glowed along the walls, illuminating rows upon rows of dresses. White. Ivory. Silver. Some embroidered with delicate patterns, others simple but impossibly elegant.

For a moment, I just stood there.

It was too much.

Too fast.

Too surreal.

“Alpha Liam had these prepared overnight,” the butler said with quiet pride.

Overnight.

I almost laughed again.

The wedding I had once spent six months preparing…

Replaced in less than a day.

“Shall we begin?”

I nodded.

One dress after another.

That was how it went.

They helped me into the first one light, flowing, almost weightless. It hugged my waist perfectly before cascading down in soft layers.

“Beautiful,” one of the assistants murmured.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

The reflection staring back at me felt like a stranger.

Not the Luna who had spent years managing a pack.

Not the woman who had begged for her mate’s attention.

Not the mother who had lost her child.

Just… someone else.

“Next,” I said.

The second dress was more structured. Elegant. Sharp.

“Next.”

The third.

“Next.”

I didn’t stop.

Didn’t react.

Didn’t care.

Every dress fit. Every dress looked perfect.

But none of them meant anything.

By the time they helped me out of the seventh one, my patience had worn thin and my body was starting to ache again.

“Miss Ivy, perhaps you should rest ”

“That one,” I interrupted, pointing at the dress I had just taken off.

The simplest one.

Clean lines. No excessive detail.

Easy.

Final.

“I’ll take it.”

The butler hesitated slightly. I could see it in his eyes he clearly had favorites among the others.

But he nodded. “Of course.”

I stepped away, grabbing my phone as it buzzed in my hand.

The moment I saw the caller ID, my expression cooled.

Adoptive parents.

I answered quickly. “Hello?”

“Ivy! Finally, you picked up.” My mother’s voice was warm, familiar. It almost made something inside me soften.

Almost.

“How are you? Are you eating properly? We saw the news about the banquet what happened?”

I closed my eyes briefly.

Of course they saw it.

“I’m fine,” I said calmly. “It was just an accident.”

“Are you sure? Noah didn’t explain much when we asked.”

Of course he didn’t.

“He’s been busy,” I replied.

A small lie.

Or maybe not.

Busy with Amy.

“Ivy…” my father’s voice came through this time, more serious. “If anything is wrong, you can tell us.”

For a moment just a moment I wanted to.

I wanted to tell them everything.

About the baby.

About the divorce.

About how I was leaving.

But if I did…

They would come back immediately.

They would confront Noah.

And everything would become messy.

I couldn’t afford messy.

Not anymore.

“I know,” I said softly. “But everything’s under control.”

There was a pause on the other end.

They didn’t fully believe me.

But they didn’t push further.

“We’ll be back soon,” my mother said. “Then we’ll talk properly.”

“Okay.”

After the call ended, I stared at my reflection again.

Soon.

Everything was happening too fast for “soon” to matter.

That night, I didn’t go back to the fitting room.

I didn’t think about the wedding.

I didn’t think about Liam.

I didn’t think about Noah.

I just… existed.

For the first time in years, there was nothing I needed to do.

No schedule.

No responsibilities.

No one waiting to demand something from me.

It felt unfamiliar.

Unsettling.

And strangely… empty.

I sat by the window, watching the darkness settle over the land.

Somewhere beyond those borders.

Noah was still there.

Amy was still there.

The pack I had given everything to was still there.

But I wasn’t.

Not anymore.

And for the first time, I wondered.

Did they even notice?

The next morning, I woke up early.

Habit.

No matter how much my life changed, some things stayed the same.

I dressed simply and headed out.

There was one last thing I needed to do.

The company building stood tall, just as imposing as ever.

For years, this place had been my battlefield.

My responsibility.

My proof of worth.

Now…

It was just a building.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt it.

The stares.

The whispers.

Everyone knew.

Or at least… they thought they did.

I ignored them and walked straight to my office.

No…

Former office.

The door was open.

And inside.

Amy sat in my chair.

Of course she did.

She looked up as I entered, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.

“You’re back,” she said lightly. “I thought you’d have more self-respect than this.”

I didn’t respond.

My gaze moved past her.

To the corner.

A desk.

Covered in clutter.

Trash.

Broken items.

“That’s yours now,” she said, following my gaze. “If you insist on staying.”

I almost laughed.

Stay?

She really thought I came back for this?

“Where’s my computer?” I asked calmly.

Her smile widened.

“Oh,” she said, glancing toward the trash can. “That old thing? I had it thrown away.”

Something inside me went very, very still.

I walked closer.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

And there it was.

My laptop.

Cracked.

Covered in coffee stains.

Buried under garbage.

Months of work.

Years of records.

Gone.

Just like that.

“You…”

“Ivy,” Amy cut in softly, standing up. Her voice changed. Lower. Sharper. “Why are you still here?”

I turned to look at her.

Gone was the fragile, pitiful expression she showed others.

This was the real her.

Twisted.

Cold.

“Hasn’t Noah made it clear enough?” she continued. “Or do you enjoy humiliating yourself?”

I stared at her.

For a second, I almost admired the act.

Almost.

“Do you know,” she went on, stepping closer, “how many nights he stayed with me instead of going home?”

My fingers curled slowly.

“If it weren’t for that child, he would’ve divorced you long ago.”

My breath stilled.

“And now?” she smiled. “Even that’s gone.”

That was it.

My hand moved before my mind could stop it.

But she was faster.

She grabbed my wrist.

And slapped herself with it.

Hard.

The sound echoed sharply in the room.

She fell to the ground instantly, crying out.

“Ivy!”

Noah’s voice.

Of course.

He rushed in, panic written all over his face. He dropped to his knees beside her, pulling her into his arms like she was something fragile. Something precious.

“I’m okay,” Amy whispered weakly. “Don’t blame her…”

My stomach turned.

Noah’s expression darkened as he looked at me.

“What is wrong with you?”

Before I could react, he shoved me.

Hard.

My back hit the edge of the desk.

Pain exploded through my body instantly, sharp and blinding. My knees nearly gave out, but I forced myself to stay upright.

He didn’t even look at me again.

“Apologize,” he said coldly.

I stared at him.

At the man I once loved.

At the man who didn’t even notice I was barely standing.

At the man who killed our child.

And still thought I was the one in the wrong.

Amy clung to him weakly. “It’s okay… I’m not hurt… It’s normal for her to be angry…”

Noah’s gaze softened instantly. “Don’t talk. You need to rest.”

Disgust rose in my throat.

“It doesn’t matter if I hit you a few times?” I said suddenly.

They both froze.

I stepped forward slowly.

Raised my hand.

And slapped her.

This time….

It was real.

The sound rang louder than before.

Clean. Sharp. Undeniable.

Amy’s head snapped to the side, shock flashing across her face before she could hide it.

I lowered my hand calmly.

“Was that enough?” I asked quietly.

My gaze met Noah’s.

Cold.

Unfamiliar.

“If not,” I continued, “I can do it a few more times.”