After work, Ivy went straight home and started throwing her things into suitcases.
She hadn’t even made it to the door before Nathaniel caught her, his face bloodless with anger.
“Ivy Hart.
You take the house, take the card, and then just walk out?
Where exactly did you find the nerve?”
She looked up and met his eyes without a trace of her usual softness.
“The deed and the card are both sitting in the drawer by the bed, where I left them.
Our agreement said you’d cover my mother’s care, and I’d wear Wren’s name until it was over.
The deal’s finished now.
I’m not taking a cent of it with me.”
His expression turned darker still.
He kicked her suitcase out of the way and pinned her against the door.
“Is this just a longer con?
Squeezing more money out of me?
If you’re so principled now, how did you end up stripped bare in my bed in the first place, without a shred of shame?”
Ivy’s whole body went rigid at the accusation, and she bit down on a bitter, humorless laugh.
She’d been drugged by Julian Sinclair and delivered to Nathaniel’s bed like a package.
No one had ever wanted to hear that part of the story.
He’d woken up furious that morning furious at the woman he actually loved for abandoning him, and furious at the Sinclairs for the scheme they’d pulled.
He’d married her anyway, for the sake of the company, but some part of him had never stopped looking down on her for it.
The old ache flared low in her stomach again.
She shoved against his chest with everything she had.
“You broke the agreement first, Nathaniel.
Can’t we just end this without turning it into a war?”
“Chloe already apologized to you.
What more do you want?” He’d assumed this was theater, a play for sympathy or leverage.
Watching her dig in instead only iced his voice further.
“What exactly are you after?
Is this the Sinclairs again, working an angle?
Just tell me.”
The Sinclair family had been minor players once, barely worth mentioning, until Wren’s engagement to him had dragged them into real money and real power.
Then Wren had betrayed him, and the Sinclairs had sent a substitute to warm his bed in her place, without so much as asking if he wanted one.
If Ivy hadn’t been willing, none of it would have happened; she wouldn’t have let herself be used as a pawn for three straight years.
And now, with the contract about to lapse, she thought she had something to hold over him because of his affair, and she meant to cash it in.
The air around him thickened with something dangerous, pressing down on her from every direction.
The silence between them stretched, heavy and raw.
Awake or asleep, in bed or out of it, Nathaniel’s devotion had only ever belonged to Wren.
Ivy had always just been the thing money bought disposable, beneath him.
She reminded herself, again, to keep her guard up.
Never mistake a man’s warmth for something real, or today’s humiliation would cut far deeper than it already had.
“Whatever happens to the Sinclairs isn’t my concern anymore.” Ivy lifted her chin.
“You slept with Chloe last night, Nathaniel, and then came home and got into bed with me.
Do you think that makes me some kind of hired body?”
Old shame flickered through her eyes.
“My mother spent half her life being called something ugly because of a man who used her.
I refuse to live out the same story.”
The mansion swallowed the silence whole.
They stood close enough to breathe the same air, and worlds apart at the same time.
It wasn’t until a moving truck pulled up outside and the driver called out her name at full volume that Nathaniel finally froze, staring at her like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
She’d booked movers that fast.
She really couldn’t wait to be gone.
All because of Chloe?
He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them his voice had gone quieter, almost coaxing.
“The moment you walk out that door, your mother’s medical bills stop being my problem, the Sinclairs lose everything I’ve been propping up, and so do you.
Just admit you were wrong, and I’ll let today go.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.
I gave you and your girlfriend room to be together, and I’m not dragging this out after the divorce I’ve already given you more than you deserved.” She shoved past him, pulled the door open, and called out to the driver to give her one more minute.
She’d barely turned back for her bags when Nathaniel slammed the door shut again, glaring down at her, voice low and cutting.
“Ivy Hart.
If it weren’t for this face, I would have buried you and the entire Sinclair family years ago.
And don’t think you’re irreplaceable there’s still Paige.”
“I have no shortage of soft, obedient women lining up to take your place.
Don’t flatter yourself thinking I can’t live without you.”
That part, at least, was true.
He’d simply gotten used to her sharpness, her compliance.
It wasn’t the same as needing her.
And she and the Sinclairs would never get to use that against him.
Never.
The fury in his eyes cooled into something colder, more contained.
“I don’t tolerate disobedience.
Fine leave, if that’s what you want.
But the agreement still has a month left on it.
Untangling the marketing angle and handing off your work properly both take time.”
Since she’d apparently decided to stop playing along, his patience had a limit, and he wasn’t interested in pushing past it.
“You’ll stay in this house, finish your responsibilities, and train Chloe properly before you go.
She’s taking over as design director.”
“Fine.”
Chloe was a junior designer with barely any track record.
There was no version of reality where she earned a director’s title in a month on merit alone.
It said everything about how far Nathaniel was willing to spoil his new favorite.
None of it was Ivy’s problem to solve anymore.
She pressed her lips together.
“We’re in the settlement period now.
I’d like separate rooms for the rest of the month.”
Watching her draw the line so cleanly nearly cracked his composure completely.
“Without this face, I wouldn’t look at you twice.
Don’t overestimate your appeal.”
Before the tension could climb any higher, Chloe’s name lit up his phone.
He answered right in front of her, deliberately, murmuring something soft and placating into the receiver.
Ivy didn’t so much as glance up she just kept gathering her scattered bags, completely indifferent.
Furious at being ignored, he stormed out and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
The silence afterward rang in her ears.
Ivy closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.
Free.
Finally,
I will never again be anyone’s disposable toy.
Just as the relief settled in, a vicious cramp doubled her over, sharp enough to nearly drop her to the floor.
She had no choice but to get herself to the hospital.
She assumed it was something she’d eaten.
Instead the doctor ordered bloodwork and an ultrasound, which felt like overkill for a stomachache.
After what felt like an unreasonably long wait, a nurse walked her down to obstetrics.
“You’re pregnant.
Six weeks along.
The pregnancy isn’t stable right now; there are early signs of miscarriage.” The doctor took in her bloodless face, the fact that she’d come in alone at night, and softened her tone.
“Do you want to keep it?”
The words hit her like a wall collapsing.
They’d always been careful.
Protection, medication, every precaution built into the arrangement from day one.
This wasn’t supposed to be possible.
Ivy sat frozen for a moment before the panic surged through her.
“No.”
She’d just clawed her way free of this marriage.
This baby was never supposed to exist.
And Nathaniel would sooner burn the world down than let a child with Sinclair blood carry the Wolfe name.
The doctor exhaled.
“You have some scarring in the uterine lining.
If you terminate this pregnancy, there’s a real chance you won’t be able to conceive again.
You’re still young, go home, talk it through with your family before deciding.”
Ivy walked out of the hospital in a fog, report clutched to her chest, drifting through the streets like she wasn’t fully present in her own body until she collided hard with someone.
“Well, look at you, sister-in-law.” A teasing voice, a handsome face leaning in far too close.
“Word is Nathaniel’s got a new woman on his arm and tossed you out on the curb?”
A hand closed around her waist before she could react.
Ivy shoved it off without a hint of her usual restraint and drove her heel straight into his stomach.
“Desmond Wolfe, if you’re this bored, go bother a stray cat instead.
Do us both a favor and stop making a scene in public.”
The man doubling over in front of her was Nathaniel’s older brother and, depending on the week, his fiercest rival.
Whenever Desmond lost a round against his brother, he tended to take it out on her instead.
She’d swallowed it for years, for the sake of keeping the peace.
Tonight, she felt no obligation to swallow anything.
Ivy walked off without a backward glance, missing the flicker of pale light shifting in the shadows behind her.
Desmond straightened slowly, staring after her retreating figure in open disbelief.
“That actually hurt.
Since when did this woman grow a spine overnight?”
His gaze slid toward the shadows, and his mouth curved into something unpleasant.
“Enjoy the confidence while it lasts.”