Chapter 8: A Warning From His Girlfriend

POV: IVY

Michael’s girlfriend contacted me before my wedding, and her first message made it clear that she had no intention of sharing him.

My phone glowed brightly in the quiet darkness of my room, the stark white lettering cutting through the shadows like a blade:

“I hope you understand that marrying Michael will never make you the most important woman in his life.”

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the glass as my chest constricted. The urge to toss the device across the mattress was overwhelming, but I forced myself to take a slow, agonizingly steady breath. I couldn't afford an emotional outburst. If I snapped or exposed my fear, I risked ruining the illusion before I even stepped foot into the church.

I had to respond as Gemma, detached, cold, and entirely unbothered by a woman she considered beneath her.

I typed out a measured, deliberate reply: “I am well aware of the terms of this marriage. It is a corporate alliance between our families, nothing more. You have no reason to feel threatened.”

Her next message arrived almost instantly, three pulsing dots flashing across the screen before transforming into a sharp, venomous bite:

“I’m not threatened, Gemma. I just know Michael. He is doing his duty for his family's name, but when the day ends, he comes to me. Don't demand affection he never promised to give you, and don't make the mistake of playing the devoted bride. You will only look foolish.”

The words stung, leaving a hollow, metallic taste in my mouth. Even though I held zero romantic feelings for Michael Sterling, reading her confidence made the bleak reality of my position impossible to hide from. I wasn't just marrying a man who didn't love me; I was stepping directly between two people bound by genuine affection. To Melanie, I was an arrogant high-society intruder. To Michael, I would be the living symbol of an obligation he resented.

Before I could lock the phone, a sharp knock rattled my bedroom door.

Evelyn stepped inside, her emerald silk robe trailing behind her like a shadow. She carried a velvet-lined tray containing the final pieces of jewelry for tomorrow’s ceremony. Without asking if I was ready, she gestured for me to stand.

“Hold still,” Evelyn commanded flatly, setting the tray on the vanity.

She lifted the heavy, multi-strand diamond choker, wrapping it tightly around my neck. Her cold, manicured fingers brushed against my skin, adjusting the metal until it completely smothered the faint, crescent-shaped birthmark near my collarbone. She leaned back, inspecting the fit with a critical eye, then smoothed down the lace detailing along the shoulders of Gemma’s wedding gown.

“The Sterling family’s PR team confirmed the guest list for the private reception,” Evelyn noted casually, adjusting a stray pin in my hair. “There is a strong possibility Melanie will be attending as a guest of one of the board members. She has been trying to generate media sympathy all week.”

I looked at her through the mirror, my pulse quickening. “She’s going to be at the reception?”

“If she shows her face, you will ignore her completely,” Evelyn instructed, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. “You will smile, hold your chin high, and treat her like a shadow. Gemma would never allow a woman like that to break her composure, and neither will you.”

Evelyn gave my shoulder a quick, icy squeeze before turning on her heel and leaving the room, shutting the door tightly behind her.

I sat back down on the vanity stool, rubbing my aching temples. Just as I reached to pick up the binder to review the family guest list once more, my phone chimed with an incoming video call.

The screen displayed an international code. It was Gemma.

I tapped the screen and slid the button to answer. Gemma’s face filled the display, framed by the opulent velvet curtains of a high-end suite in Paris. She was holding a crystal flute of sparkling wine, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed with reckless excitement. The soft, ambient music of a lounge played faintly in her background.

“Well, hello, sister!” Gemma’s voice was light, musical, and utterly devoid of remorse. “I just wanted to check in before I head out for late drinks near the Champs-Élysées. Are you ready to play your part tomorrow?”

I held the phone tight, my jaw clenching as anger flared in my chest. “I’m sitting here covering my collarbone with diamond chokers and taking warnings from Michael’s girlfriend, Gemma. How do you think I’m doing?”

Gemma took a slow, deliberate sip from her glass, letting out a soft, mocking laugh that cut straight through the speaker.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes with casual cruelty. “Melanie is a nobody. Don't waste your energy worrying about his little side project. Just remember the rules: keep your posture straight, don't stammer when you speak to his uncle, and whatever you do, don't embarrass our family name in front of the press.”

I stayed completely silent, staring at her through the screen. My refusal to argue seemed to amuse her even more.

Gemma leaned closer to her camera, her smile twisting into a cold, condescending smirk that mirrored Evelyn’s worst looks.

“Don’t look so miserable, Ivy,” she murmured, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Don’t forget who you are. You’re the spare. You were born to step in when I don't feel like playing.”

The line went dead before I could answer.

I set the phone face down on the wooden desk, my hands trembling violently. The silence of the room settled around me like a heavy shroud. They had left me with no dignity, no identity, and no defense. I was a ghost stepping into another woman's life, trapped in a structure designed to crush me if I stumbled.

I walked over to the window, watching the moonlight cut through the thick autumn fog hovering over the estate gardens. Tomorrow, I would walk down the aisle in a gown that wasn't mine, taking vows meant for someone else, all to keep my grandmother's heart beating for another day.

I turned back to the bed, exhaustion finally pulling at my limbs. I pulled back the heavy duvet and slipped under the covers, closing my burning eyes.

Just as darkness began to take over my thoughts, the phone on the nightstand vibrated once against the hard wood.

I forced myself to reach out and flip the screen up.

A final message from Melanie glowed in the dark:

“One more thing, Gemma. If Michael ever has to choose between us, don’t embarrass yourself by expecting him to choose you.”