Chapter 4: My Mother’s Threat

POV: IVY 

My own mother looked me in the eyes and explained exactly how much suffering she was willing to allow before saving the woman who had raised me.

The heavy door to Evelyn’s study clicked shut behind me. The room smelled of old leather books, bitter dark coffee, and heavy rose perfume. Evelyn sat behind her massive mahogany desk, illuminated by the warm light of a brass desk lamp. Laid out in neat, precise rows across the dark wood were the final marriage documents, their pristine white pages practically glowing under the light.

She didn't ask me to sit down. She simply tapped her gold fountain pen against the blotter, her dark eyes tracking me as I walked toward the desk with Gemma’s folder tucked beneath my arm.

“Sit down, Ivy,” Evelyn commanded, her voice smooth, flat, and entirely devoid of affection.

I remained standing, my spine rigid, my fingernails digging into my palms. “I’d rather stand. Let’s get this over with, Evelyn.”

A faint, amused sigh escaped her lips. “The Sterling family has already made massive financial commitments based on this wedding. The public announcement went out to the press three days ago. Canceling the arrangement now would destroy our credibility, damage our family’s relationship with Sterling Enterprises beyond repair, and threaten several critical business opportunities your father has been working on for years.”

“Then why can’t Gemma simply marry Michael as promised?” I demanded, leaning over the desk, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. “She’s the one who agreed to the courtship! She’s the one who signed the preliminary papers! Why am I being forced to clean up her mess?”

Evelyn set her pen down with a soft, deliberate click. She looked up at me, her expression completely indifferent.

“Because Gemma’s future is too important to sacrifice for a marriage she does not want,” Evelyn said smoothly, as if stating an indisputable law of nature. “She has been scouted by Europe’s top fashion houses. Her modeling career in Paris will bring international prestige to this family. Your future, Ivy, is entirely different. You have never possessed Gemma’s opportunities, nor do you have her vision.”

The cold, matter-of-fact tone hit me like a splash of freezing water. Tears of raw anger burned the back of my throat.

“I am your daughter, too!” I choked out, the words bursting from my chest before I could stop them. “I share the exact same blood, Evelyn! How can you look at me and decide my whole life is worth less than Gemma’s modeling agency?”

Evelyn didn't even flinch. She simply adjusted her diamond bracelet, her gaze dropping back to the papers.

“Being a daughter does not mean you are entitled to every privilege Gemma enjoys,” she replied calmly. “Gemma was born to shine in the spotlight. You were born quiet. And right now, your quietness is what this family needs.”

She reached into her desk drawer, pulled out a thin leather ledger, and tossed it beside the marriage contracts.

“I discussed your grandmother’s treatment with the family accountant this afternoon,” Evelyn continued, leaning back in her leather chair. “The trust account has more than enough liquidity to cover her ICU fees, her private doctors, and her experimental medication. The money is there, Ivy. But I refuse to prioritize those payments unless you accept the marriage arrangement.”

My breath caught in my throat. My blood ran completely cold.

“She is your mother-in-law,” I whispered, horrified by the sheer wickedness standing right before me. “She lived in this house with you for twenty years! Would you truly allow Grandmother to suffer, to die in a public hospice, simply because I refuse to impersonate my sister?”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, her dark eyes locking onto mine with ruthless, terrifying precision.

“I will not waste the family’s money on someone who can no longer contribute to its future,” Evelyn stated softly. “Your grandmother’s life is an expense. Your marriage to Michael Sterling is an investment. If you want the investment to fund the expense, you will sign those papers.”

Her answer destroyed the very last shred of hope I held in my heart. There was no secret well of maternal love hiding beneath her cold exterior. There was no conscience to appeal to. Evelyn was a creature of pure, calculating greed, and she viewed both me and my grandmother as nothing more than disposable line items on a balance sheet.

I swallowed the bitter taste of defeat, forcing my shoulders back. If I had to step into this trap to keep Grandmother breathing, I was not going to do it without wrapping iron chains around Evelyn’s wrists in return.

“If I agree to this,” I said, my voice dropping into a low, deadly serious register, “I demand written guarantees. I want a separate, legally binding contract stating that Grandmother’s ICU bills, private physicians, and equipment will be paid directly by the trust every single month without delay.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't interrupt.

“I also insist that my compensation be explicitly specified,” I continued, pointing a trembling finger at the ledger. “Two million dollars transferred to a private account registered strictly under my real name, Ivy, the moment the three-year contract ends. And you will add a rider stating that the family cannot withdraw or alter the promised payment simply because Gemma changes her mind, returns from Paris early, or creates a scandal.”

Evelyn let out a sharp, irritated breath, her manicured fingers tapping hard against the desk. “You are in no position to dictate terms to me, Ivy.”

“I am the only person on this planet who can walk into Michael Sterling’s house tomorrow wearing Gemma’s face,” I fired back, leaning over the desk until I was inches from her face. “You need my signature tonight, Evelyn. Add the conditions, or watch your Sterling merger collapse.”

For three agonizing seconds, silence hung heavy in the room. Evelyn stared at me, evaluating the sudden sharpness in the daughter she had spent twenty-four years ignoring.

Finally, she picked up her gold pen and made quick, harsh notations on the margins of the private rider.

“The lawyer will draft the finalized language in the morning,” Evelyn muttered coldly.

I knew a written promise from a woman like Evelyn could never guarantee genuine kindness. But in a world built on lies and extortion, those black-and-white clauses were the only concrete weapon I had to protect Grandmother.

“One last thing,” Evelyn said, her tone dropping into a dangerous hush as she capped her pen. “Michael must never discover the substitution. If he realizes he was given a fake bride, he will dismantle our family business overnight, and I will make sure you take the entire criminal case.”

My hand instinctively reached up to the base of my throat, my fingers tracing the soft skin just beneath my collar bone. Beneath my sweater lay a faint, crescent-shaped birthmark, the only physical detail that distinguished my body from my twin sister’s.

A sickening wave of dread washed over me. Even my own skin had become a piece of evidence I was forced to hide from the world.

Evelyn pushed the heavy stack of marriage contracts across the dark mahogany desk until the edges brushed against my knuckles.

“Sign it, Ivy,” she murmured, her dark eyes gleaming with ruthless triumph. “Once you do, you belong to this arrangement for three years.”