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Chapter Eighty-One: The Threat You Love Most
Last Updated:
2025-07-31 20:45:58
Jhumie_writesVictor begins to sense the shift in Ivy, the rebirth of something he thought he’d extinguished long ago. But it’s only the beginning. Keep reading as the storm brews and the walls close in. Whose grip will break first, his or hers?
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His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five: A Love to believe in.
The night was quiet, but I couldn’t sleep.The sheets were tangled around us, Ivy’s bare body soft and warm against mine, her breathing steady with the deep rhythm of dreams. The moonlight leaking through the curtains touched her face like silver, painting her skin with a glow that made her look unreal, like she belonged to some world better than this one.And yet here she was. In my bed. In my arms.I’d spent years building myself into a fortress, a man untouched by sentiment. Love was a word I’d never trusted, too fragile, too dangerous. I’d seen what it did to men. it made them weak, reckless, willing to bleed themselves dry for a woman who could still turn and walk away. I had sworn I would never let that be me.And also, I have never truly felt love, to closest I ever felt was Mrs B and it was motherly. I grew up with a mother who never stood up against her husband for me and in a home where there is no love between me and my brother. Robert have always considered me below Victor
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Four: Mine to Claim
The room was still humming from the venom of Robert Wolfe’s voice, the cold steel of his threat lingering in the air long after the burner phone went dead. I could still hear his words echoing, sharp as glass. Return Ivy. She is not yours to keep.But it wasn’t Robert’s cruelty that gripped me. It was Killian’s response.He hadn’t faltered. He hadn’t bartered me like some item of leverage. He hadn’t hesitated to cut his step father’s script into shreds with a voice that was deep, steady, and absolute: She isn’t a bargaining chip. She stays with me. She chose. She isn’t something you get to take back.Chosen.The word replayed in my chest like a heartbeat. He didn’t just say it to them. He said it to me, too. Out loud. In front of the shadow that had always tried to reduce me to a pawn, Killian had stood like a wall and declared me his equal.I didn’t know what burned hotter, my anger at Robert’s attempt to erase me, or the ache curling low in my body, sharp and sudden, when Killian ref
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three: The Phone Call
The burner buzzed against the table, its screen lighting up in the dim safe house.Killian froze.Ivy, curled beneath the blanket on the worn couch, stirred. Her eyes opened, bleary with half sleep, but instantly sharp. They both knew that sound meant trouble, no one had this number unless the Wolfe.Killian let it ring once more before picking up. He didn’t say hello, only waited. Silence stretched, then a familiar voice slid down the line like oil.“Killian,” Robert Wolfe said, calm as ever. “You’ve made quite the spectacle.”Ivy’s hand clutched the blanket tighter.Killian leaned back in his chair, his tone measured, flat. “You called me to waste my time?”Robert chuckled softly. “I called because, unlike my son, I am a man who understands strategy. You’ve put yourself in a position that can only end one of two ways. Return what isn’t yours, and perhaps I’ll consider showing you a measure of mercy.”Killian’s jaw flexed. “Mercy,” he repeated, like the word itself amused him.“Yes.”
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two: The Morning Lies
Chapter 122 – The Morning Lies(Ivy’s POV)Morning comes slow inside the safehouse.I wake with sunlight cutting in through the blinds, thin golden lines painting across the sheets. For the first time in what feels like forever, my body isn’t braced for a door to slam, a command to bark, or footsteps to drag me back into submission. The silence here is different, it doesn’t cage me, it frees me.I lie still, just breathing. The mattress is firm, the air faint with dust and the scent of old wood, but it feels safer than silk sheets in the Wolfe mansion ever did. Beside me, Killian moves, his arm brushing against me as he shifts awake. He doesn’t speak at first, he rarely does in the mornings. His presence is enough, steady, grounding, the kind of constant I’ve longed for without even realizing it.For a fleeting moment, I let myself believe I’m free.But the world has sharp ways of reminding me that freedom never comes without a price.The muted glow of a small television in the corner
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-one: The weight of ivy’s disappearance
Night fell heavy over the Wolfe mansion, but the glow from the long dining table carried no warmth. The Lancasters sat stiff on one side, the Wolfes opposite, the two families bound by an alliance that now threatened to unravel under the weight of whispers and speculation.The wedding that should have been celebrated today had dissolved into scandal. Outside, the media spun wild tales: that Ivy had run away, that ivy is unwilling to marry Victor Wolfe, that Victor had been betrayed in front of the world, that Victor might be an asshole not a Prince Charming like everyone thinks. Inside, the truth was messier, and far more dangerous.Robert Wolfe poured himself a glass of wine with unhurried calm, his silver hair catching the light. “We cannot allow the world to think the Wolfes have been slighted. Appearances are everything. A statement must go out before midnight.”Victor shifted in his chair, eyes sunken, jaw tight. “The statement should make one thing clear, Killian abducted Ivy. He
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: A Fragile freedom
Chapter 120 – A Fragile FreedomThe walls of the safe house hum with silence. Not the kind that feels oppressive, but the kind that teases me with a taste of freedom I’m not sure I’ll ever fully have yet. For the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe without victor’s shadow crawling across my skin. There are no locked doors here, no eyes watching every step, no whispers of disobedience waiting to be punished.Here, the air smells of dust and paper, the faint musk of old wood, and Killian’s cologne lingering in the fabric of the room. Here, I am not caged. And yet, I am not free either.But I like this freedom. Freedom is a strange thing, fragile, fleeting. I can feel it brushing against me like a breeze through an open window, but just as quickly, it threatens to slip away. Victor and his father are out there, plotting, waiting. Victor doesn’t let go of what he thinks belongs to him. He never has.I sit curled up on the couch, notebook abandoned in my lap. My thoughts
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