Chapter 2: The Woman Who Loved Me

POV: IVY

My grandmother once told me that love should never feel like a debt, but now her life has become the price of mine.

The sharp scent of antiseptic burned my throat as I hurried down the long, sterile corridor of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital. My heels clicked frantically against the polished floor, the sound echoing off the bare walls. I pushed open the heavy door to Suite 402, my chest heaving, desperate to see her before making a choice that would rewrite the rest of my existence.

The room was bathed in the dim, blue glow of medical monitors. 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Grandmother was lying in the center of the mechanical bed, looking smaller and more fragile than I had ever seen her. Soft oxygen tubes rested beneath her nose, and her pale hands were bruised from IV needles. But when her dark eyes shifted toward the door and landed on me, a soft, familiar warmth illuminated her face.

“Ivy... my sweet girl,” she rasped, her voice paper-thin. She reached out a trembling hand, searching for mine.

I rushed to her side and took her cool fingers in my palms, dropping to my knees beside her bed. I pressed her hand against my cheek, swallowing down the thick lump in my throat.

“Grandmother,” I choked out, trying to force a smile. “How are you feeling tonight?”

“I am fine, child,” she whispered, her thumb gently brushing across my cheekbone. She searched my face with sharp, loving eyes. “Have you eaten dinner? You look so pale, Ivy. You work too hard, always running around, taking care of everyone else.”

Even now, surrounded by cold machines and fighting for her next breath, she worried about me first.

Tears stung the back of my eyes, and I squeezed her fingers tighter. Sitting in that quiet room, the memories of my childhood rushed back like a tidal wave.

I remembered standing outside Gemma’s bedroom when I was ten years old. Evelyn had spent hours helping Gemma pick out an expensive custom dress for a school celebration, laughing and taking photos. That very same week, I had placed first in the statewide academic competition, earning a gold medal. Nobody in my family attended the award ceremony. The audience seats assigned to my parents had remained entirely empty.

It was Grandmother who had shown up. She sat in the front row, clapping so loudly her hands turned red. Afterward, she took me out for hot chocolate, pulled a small wrapped book from her coat pocket—bought with her meager savings—and told me how proud she was.

“Never let their coldness make you forget your worth, Ivy,” she had told me that night, wiping my secret tears away. “You are bright, resilient, and worthy of every good thing in this world.”

She was the only person who had ever defended me when Evelyn blamed me for Gemma’s mistakes. She was the one who secretly slipped money into my coat pockets for textbooks when my mother cut off my allowance. She was my shield.

“Ivy?” Grandmother’s weak voice pulled me out of the memory. She squeezed my hand with as much strength as her frail body could muster. “Why are your hands trembling, my darling? What is wrong?”

“The... the doctors said your condition is still critical,” I stammered, keeping my head low so she wouldn't see the terror in my eyes. “They said you need more specialized treatments.”

“I have…. survived much worse than a weak heart, little bird,” she said softly, offering me a reassuring smile. “Do not waste your young life sitting in a hospital room worrying about an old woman.”

I looked at her, my heart breaking into a million pieces. I wanted so badly to scream the truth. I wanted to tell her that Evelyn and Gemma were holding her life support hostage, that they were forcing me to pretend to be my twin sister and marry a cold, dangerous billionaire to pay her bills.

Grandmother knew me too well to accept my hollow reassurances without question. Her smile faded, replaced by deep concern as she studied my pale face.

“Look at me, Ivy,” she commanded gently.

I forced myself to meet her eyes.

“You look frightened,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. “Tell me the truth. What is going on at the house? Has your mother done something to you again?”

“No,” I lied quickly, the word tasting like ash on my tongue. “It’s... our family is facing a very difficult decision right now, Grandmother. A corporate matter.”

Grandmother let out a long, quiet sigh, her gaze softening with a mixture of sadness and deep understanding.

“Listen to me very carefully, Ivy,” she whispered, her voice laced with absolute conviction. “You have spent your whole life trying to earn love from people whose hearts are made of stone. Evelyn and your father... They do not know how to love. Do not destroy your own life trying to buy their approval. Do not sacrifice your happiness for a family that only sees you when they need something.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow, cutting straight to the core of my soul. They made my decision a thousand times harder, a thousand times more painful. She was telling me to save myself, completely unaware that saving myself meant letting her die.

“I won't destroy my life, Grandmother,” I whispered, kissing her knuckles. “I promise.”

I stayed by her side until she drifted off into a restless sleep.

On my way out of the hospital, I stopped by the attending physician’s office. Dr. Bennett looked up from his computer, his expression heavy with grim news.

“Miss Ivy,” he said, pulling up Grandmother’s charts. “I’m glad I caught you. The administration notified me an hour ago that the trust account guarantee hasn't been renewed for tonight. If the eighty-thousand-dollar deposit isn't cleared before tomorrow morning, we will have no choice but to pause her experimental treatment protocol and initiate the transfer process.”

“If you pause the protocol... how long does she have?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

Dr. Bennett looked at me with solemn eyes. “With her current cardiac numbers? Less than forty-eight hours.”

The finality of his words echoed in my ears as I walked out into the freezing night air. There was no alternative. No secret savings account, no sudden loan, no miracle. I could not gamble with the life of the only woman who had ever loved me.

If my freedom was the price for Grandmother’s next breath, I had to pay it.

By eleven o'clock, I returned to the family estate and stepped into the main house. The foyer was quiet, but as I walked toward the library, I saw a thick stack of blue legal papers left open on the central desk.

Beside them lay Gemma’s leather luggage tag, stamped with a Paris flight destination, along with an empty passport cover. She had already packed every single one of her belongings in her bedroom, completely ready to leave for the airport at a moment's notice.

I walked slowly over to the desk, my heart dropping into my stomach.

I picked up the primary marriage contract and flipped to the back page. On the internal family guarantee rider, the document assigning financial responsibility and personal liability, Gemma had cleanly filled in my real name: Ivy. But on the official wedding registration form attached beneath it, she had printed her own name for me to sign.

Gemma had already packed her belongings for Paris, and she had left my name on the marriage documents.