Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Refused to Disappear
By sunrise, the story belonged to the entire city.
Ivy learned that before she even got out of bed.
Her phone began vibrating at 6:12 a.m.
At first she thought one of her brothers was calling.
Instead, thirty-seven notifications filled the screen.
Then sixty.
Then ninety-three.
A photograph from the Blackwood engagement gala had appeared online.
It showed Vivienne with the riding crop raised.
Ivy pressed against the marble wall.
Ronan approaching from the background.
The headline above it read:
BLACKWOOD ENGAGEMENT ENDS IN BALLROOM SCANDAL.
Ivy stared at the photograph.
Someone had taken it from near the orchestra.
Another image showed Ronan holding the broken crop.
Another showed Vivienne leaving.
Ivy searched for her own name.
That was a mistake.
People had already found it.
Some called her brave.
Some called her a victim.
Others accused her of planning the entire incident.
One account claimed Ivy had seduced Ronan.
She laughed aloud at the absurdity.
Then she found another post.
A photograph of her apartment building.
The laughter stopped.
Ivy sat upright.
Her younger brother Noah knocked on the door.
“Ivy?”
She quickly locked her phone.
“Come in.”
Noah entered wearing college sweatpants and carrying coffee.
At twenty-one, he was taller than her but still had the same worried eyes he had possessed as a boy.
“You’ve seen it?”
She nodded.
“Please tell me you didn’t read the comments.”
“I read the comments.”
He sighed.
“Why?”
“Because apparently I enjoy suffering.”
He handed her coffee.
“That’s established.”
Ivy smiled.
Noah sat beside her.
“What actually happened?”
She told him.
Not every detail.
She did not mention the first strike had made her knees almost buckle.
She did not mention the way the room had watched.
She definitely did not mention Ronan placing his coat around her shoulders.
Some things felt too personal.
When she finished, Noah looked furious.
“She hit you?”
“I’m okay.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Dr. Levin said the marks are superficial.”
Noah stood.
“I’m calling the police.”
Ivy caught his wrist.
“Sit down.”
“She assaulted you.”
“I know.”
“So why aren’t you angry?”
“I am.”
“You don’t look angry.”
“I spent four hours being angry.”
She looked toward the small kitchen.
“Now I have rent due.”
Noah’s expression softened.
“That place is insane. Quit.”
“And pay your tuition how?”
“I’ll work.”
“You already work.”
“Then I’ll work more.”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
They stared at each other.
Ivy sighed.
“Mom made me promise.”
Noah groaned.
“Mom also made me promise not to let you ruin your life taking care of us.”
“That sounds made up.”
“It’s not.”
“Convenient.”
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Ivy ignored it.
It rang again.
Then again.
Noah looked at the screen.
“Probably press.”
“Probably.”
A knock came at the apartment door.
Both siblings froze.
Noah moved toward it.
Ivy grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
He looked through the peephole.
Then frowned.
“There’s a man in a suit.”
“That narrows nothing down.”
“He looks like he could throw me through a wall.”
“That sounds more specific.”
The man knocked again.
“Ms. Lancaster?”
Ivy recognized the voice.
Marcus.
Ronan’s security chief.
She opened the door halfway.
Marcus stood in the hallway holding a paper bag.
“Good morning.”
Noah looked him up and down.
“That depends.”
Marcus glanced at Ivy.
“Mr. Blackwood sent breakfast.”
Ivy stared at the bag.
“Why?”
Marcus appeared genuinely uncertain how to answer.
“Because people eat breakfast?”
Noah laughed.
Ivy did not.
“What else?”
Marcus handed her an envelope.
“Your address appeared online this morning. We identified three photographers downstairs and one person who has been sitting in a parked vehicle since five thirty.”
Ivy’s stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“We’re checking.”
Noah’s face changed.
Marcus continued.
“Mr. Blackwood recommends you and your brother stay elsewhere temporarily.”
“I’m not moving into Blackwood Manor.”
Marcus blinked.
“I didn’t say—”
“You were going to.”
“I was.”
“No.”
“Ivy,” Noah said quietly.
She looked at him.
He pointed toward the window.
Two camera lenses were visible across the street.
Ivy closed the curtain.
“This is insane.”
Marcus nodded.
“It will probably get worse before it gets better.”
“Wonderful.”
The envelope contained keys to a furnished apartment owned by Blackwood Holdings.
Ivy handed them back.
“I can’t accept this.”
“It’s temporary.”
“I don’t accept expensive favors.”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“I was warned you might say that.”
“By whom?”
“Mr. Blackwood.”
Of course.
“What did he tell you to do if I refused?”
“Tell you the apartment normally rents to corporate executives, the company already owns it, and leaving it empty accomplishes nothing.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes.
“That sounds rehearsed.”
“Very.”
Noah took the keys from Marcus.
“We’re going.”
Ivy glared at him.
He shrugged.
“I like being alive.”
Three hours later, Ivy stood inside a twenty-third-floor apartment overlooking the river.
It had floor-to-ceiling windows.
Two bedrooms.
A kitchen larger than their entire living room.
Noah walked onto the balcony and stared downward.
“We are never leaving.”
“We are leaving.”
“Eventually.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Next year.”
Ivy threw a cushion at him.
Her phone rang again.
This time, the name on the screen made her stop.
Blackwood Manor.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
“Ms. Lancaster, this is Claire from household administration.”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Blackwood would like you to take the week off with full pay.”
Ivy frowned.
“I’m scheduled tonight.”
“Not anymore.”
“I don’t need a week.”
There was a pause.
Then another voice came onto the line.
“I told her you’d say that.”
Ronan.
Ivy straightened without meaning to.
“You’re very confident.”
“I employ people who give me accurate information.”
“I can work.”
“I know.”
“Then why am I being ordered not to?”
“Because forty reporters are currently waiting outside the service gate.”
Ivy went quiet.
Ronan continued.
“And because last night you were assaulted at work.”
She hated the word.
Not because it was inaccurate.
Because it made her feel small.
“You don’t have to manage me.”
“I’m not.”
“It feels like it.”
Silence.
Then Ronan said, “Fair.”
The simple acknowledgment surprised her.
He continued more carefully.
“What would feel less like management?”
Ivy walked toward the window.
“Give me a choice.”
“All right.”
“I can come to work?”
“No.”
“That was fast.”
“You said a choice, not unlimited choices.”
She almost smiled.
“Then what?”
“You can take paid leave, or I can temporarily transfer you to another Blackwood property away from the press.”
Ivy considered it.
“What property?”
“The Harbour Foundation.”
She knew the name.
Blackwood’s charitable foundation ran meal programs, scholarships, and emergency housing.
“What would I do?”
“Whatever you’re qualified to do.”
“I’m a maid.”
“No. You work as a maid.”
The distinction stopped her.
Ronan continued.
“Your personnel file says you completed two years of business administration before leaving school.”
Ivy stiffened.
“You read my personnel file?”
“After yesterday, yes.”
“That seems invasive.”
“Probably.”
She laughed despite herself.
He added, “You also coordinated the staff relief fund last winter.”
“How do you know that?”
“It was in the file.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Apparently someone was impressed.”
Ivy looked toward Noah, who was pretending not to listen.
“When do I start?”
Ronan paused.
“The foundation?”
“Yes.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Neither ended the call.
The silence stretched.
Then Ivy said, “Why did you come home early?”
It was too personal.
She almost apologized.
Ronan answered anyway.
“A meeting ended sooner than expected.”
“That’s all?”
“No.”
She waited.
“I had a bad feeling.”
Ivy frowned.
“About Vivienne?”
“About everything.”
His voice changed.
The certainty disappeared.
“I kept finding reasons not to set a wedding date.”
Ivy leaned against the window.
“Maybe part of you already knew.”
“Maybe.”
They were quiet again.
Then Ronan said, “There’s something else.”
Ivy’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Vivienne didn’t leave the city.”
“Okay.”
“She contacted a public relations firm at six this morning.”
Ivy closed her eyes.
“That sounds promising.”
“She’s claiming the situation was staged.”
“By whom?”
“You.”
Ivy laughed once.
Then realized he was serious.
“She says you deliberately provoked her because you wanted attention from me.”
“That is insane.”
“I know.”
“She hit me.”
“There are photographs.”
“Then how can she—”
“People believe what confirms what they already want to believe.”
That sentence sounded like experience.
Ivy looked down at the city.
“What do I do?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s your plan?”
“For today.”
“I’m bad at nothing.”
“I noticed.”
Before she could reply, her email notification sounded.
A message appeared.
Unknown sender.
Subject:
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN YOUR PLACE.
Ivy stared.
The body contained one sentence.
HE WILL GET TIRED OF PLAYING HERO.
Attached was a photograph.
It showed Ivy entering the temporary apartment building less than thirty minutes earlier.
Her blood ran cold.
“Ronan.”
His voice sharpened instantly.
“What happened?”
“I just got an email.”
“What does it say?”
She read it.
Silence.
Then his voice became frighteningly calm.
“Do not delete it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Marcus is downstairs.”
“How do you know?”
“I told him to stay.”
Ivy looked toward the door.
“I thought he left.”
“He wanted you to think he left.”
“That is deeply irritating.”
“It’s also useful.”
Ronan was already giving instructions to someone else.
Then he returned.
“Ivy.”
“Yes?”
“Lock the door.”
Something in his voice erased her instinct to argue.
She locked it.
“Done.”
“Stay away from the windows.”
Her heart began beating faster.
“Do you think Vivienne sent it?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you suspect her.”
“I suspect several people.”
“Several?”
“Last night embarrassed more people than Vivienne.”
Ivy frowned.
“How?”
Before Ronan could answer, someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
Noah stepped from the kitchen.
Ivy’s entire body tensed.
“Is Marcus at the door?” she whispered.
“No.”
Ronan’s voice changed.
“Do not open it.”
The knocks came again.
Then a woman’s voice called through the door.
“Ivy?”
Ivy froze.
She knew that voice.
Emily.
Noah moved toward the peephole.
Ronan said sharply, “Wait.”
Too late.
Noah looked.
His face drained.
“What?”
Ivy whispered.
He stepped backward.
“There’s nobody there.”
The hallway went silent.
Then a small white envelope slid under the door.
Ivy stared at it.
Ronan heard her breathing.
“What happened?”
“Someone just pushed something under the door.”
“Don’t touch it.”
On the envelope, written in black ink, were four words.
ASK RONAN ABOUT ELENA.
Ivy looked at her phone.
“Who is Elena?”
For the first time since she had met him, Ronan Blackwood did not answer immediately.
May you like
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable.
“Someone who died because I trusted the wrong person.”
