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Chapter One-Hundred: The Garden Whispers
Last Updated:
2025-08-18 19:46:01
Jhumie_writesThis chapter was such an emotional one to write. We’re finally seeing Ivy begin to sense that something might shift in her world, even if she doesn’t yet know how or when. Mrs. B is the quiet strength Ivy never realized she needed, her presence in this story has always been subtle, but now we see just how important she is. I loved writing the garden scene, the way secrecy and hope intertwine in every whispered word between them. Ivy is still trapped in Victor’s world, but for the first time in a long while, she’s given a flicker of light to hold onto. The tension is only going to build from here, both in her heart and in the dangerous game happening behind the scenes. As always, thank you so much for reading and walking with Ivy through every breathless moment. Things are about to get even more intense.
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His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and Two: Eve of Chains
The night before my wedding felt like the walls were closing in.I sat at my vanity, staring at the ivory gown draped across its mannequin like some holy relic I was meant to worship. Layers of silk and lace, delicate embroidery of vines and roses, the kind of dress most women dreamed of wearing once in their lives.But I had not chosen it.I had not chosen the flowers that lined the hallways downstairs. I had not chosen the menu, the music, the vows someone else had written for me. Every detail had been handed down like orders, another reminder that I was less a bride and more a pawn on display.I pressed my palms flat against the wooden surface of the vanity, trying to steady my breathing. The reflection staring back at me looked pale, drawn, almost ghostlike. My lips were painted in a soft blush from earlier fittings, but the color felt foreign. My eyes, though, they gave me away. Wide, restless, caught between panic and something fiercer, something that refused to die even as eve
His To Ruin Chapter One Hundred and One:
I sat at the long mirrored vanity, surrounded by swatches of satin, lace, and glittering trims that the stylists kept laying out in front of me as though I were their canvas instead of their client. My reflection stared back at me, ghostly pale beneath the golden light, lips pressed too tightly together for comfort.“You’ll love this neckline,” one of them chirped as she held up a sketch. “It’s timeless, elegant, exactly what a Wolfe bride should wear.”Wolfe bride. Not Ivy. Not a woman with her own tastes, desires, and dreams. Just an accessory to the name.I murmured something polite and let them chatter over each other, pulling pins from their mouths and clicking their pens against their sketch pads. My wedding dress arrive today, hand sewn in Italy, they’d told me with smug pride, as though the fact alone should have filled me with joy.Instead, all I felt was the tightening of my chest, the way my ribcage seemed to contract with every breath, like the very walls of the estate had
His To Ruin Chapter One-Hundred: The Garden Whispers
The day bled into itself in a blur of fabric swatches, flower arrangements, and endless chatter I could barely hear. Every surface around me seemed dressed in ivory and gold, as though the house itself were being married, not me. My name floated in the air...“Ivy, what do you think of this lace?”...“Miss Lancaster, would you prefer cream roses or blush?" but none of it touched me.I sat there like a ghost draped in silk, nodding absently while women bustled with pins between their lips and tape measures snapping against my waist. It was supposed to be the happiest week of my life. In exactly six days, I was meant to walk down an aisle, veiled and obedient, toward a man whose touch made my skin crawl. A dressmaker’s assistant chattered about the gown’s arrival in two days’ time, her words punctuated with excitement, as though she were delivering a fairytale ending.I hadn’t chosen the dress. I hadn’t chosen a single thing. The flowers, the menu, the vows, all of it had been planned by
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-Nine:
I used to imagine what it would feel like, the week before my wedding.As a little girl, I pictured sunlight spilling through sheer curtains while I tried on dresses I had chosen myself. I thought there would be laughter, chaos, flowers scattered everywhere because I couldn’t decide which I liked best. I thought it would be messy and imperfect, but mine.Now, here I was, sitting stiff backed in a room draped with ivory fabric and silver accents, surrounded by people buzzing around me with clipboards, fabric swatches, and color charts. Their voices overlapped, brisk and practiced.None of them looked at me. Not really.“You’ll wear your hair up. It elongates your neck.”“These roses are already ordered. White with blush tips.”“Candles on the tables, not lanterns. The family prefers candles.”Every sentence began with you’ll, you must, you will.I hadn’t said yes to any of it. I hadn’t chosen a flower, or a song, or a plate. My hands lay motionless in my lap, the engagement ring heavy
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-Eight: A Man with an ordinary Life
The phone buzzed against the leather console, a sharp vibration that cut through the silence. Ezra’s name lit up the screen.Killian answered on the first ring.“Talk.”“I dug him up,” Ezra said without preamble. His tone was brisk, efficient , but there was a quiet thread under it, like something about this didn’t sit right even with him. “Daniel Mercer. On paper, nothing special. He owns a small hardware store in Ridgefield. Divorced a few years back, no kids. No priors, no arrests, no debts. Pays taxes on time, utilities steady. Looks like a man who goes home after closing shop and eats frozen dinners in front of the TV.”Killian’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. Ordinary. Too ordinary.“Address.”Ezra rattled it off. Then, after a pause: “killian… he doesn’t look like someone who belongs in this world. I’ve seen ghosts with heavier footprints.”Killian cut the line without answering. He didn’t need Ezra’s doubts circling his head.The car purred beneath his grip as he sh
His To Ruin Chapter Ninety-Six: Ashes Don’t Stay Buried
The paper burned in my pocket like a live coal.I didn’t look at it right away properly. I waited until I was outside, until Marisol’s door had shut behind me and her safety chain had rattled back into place. The sound followed me down the porch steps, sharp and final, like a lock slamming on a vault.The night air was colder than I remembered. Maybe it was just the shift, from her living room, where the sound of children’s laughter still echoed faintly in my head, to the dark quiet of the street where I didn’t belong.I pulled the slip of paper free and unfolded it under the dim glow of the streetlight.Daniel Mercer.That was it. Just a name. No explanation, no context, no guarantee she hadn’t written down some poor bastard who owed her money back in the day. But something in the way she’d looked at me before sliding it across the table, the resignation, the finality, told me this was no bluff.I slipped the note back into my pocket and crossed the street to where my car waited. Eve
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