The Ultimatum

Olivia stood by the window, staring at the blur of streetlights. The house was quiet, too quiet. Ethan was still gone, taken by her father and the senator. No message had come since the note he left. Every hour that passed clawed at her nerves until she felt raw, stripped open.

Then, just past midnight, the phone rang.

She froze. For a moment, she thought it might be Ethan, finally calling. But the voice that answered when she lifted the receiver chilled her blood.

“Twenty four hours,” Jessica said softly. “That is all you have.”

Olivia’s grip tightened around the phone. “Jessica.”

“Yes, Olivia,” Jessica continued, her tone calm, almost gentle, which made it worse. “You have twenty four hours to leave. Leave this city, leave Ethan, leave everything behind. If you don’t, you’ll face the reckoning.”

Olivia’s mouth went dry. “What reckoning?”

Jessica laughed, a sound that crawled down Olivia’s spine. “The one you’ve been running from. Don’t pretend you don’t know. The vow, the blood, the families, we are reaching the end of the line. And only one wife can remain.”

“Jessica” Olivia began, but the line clicked dead.

She stood in the dark with the phone pressed to her ear, her heart racing. Twenty-four hours.

Olivia didn’t sleep. She sat awake with the clock ticking loudly in the silence. She imagined Ethan bound, trapped between two powerful men, her father and Jessica’s. Both dangerous, both ruthless. And now Jessica herself had drawn the circle tighter, giving her an ultimatum that tasted like poison.

By morning, Olivia’s body ached with exhaustion. She dressed quickly, her reflection in the mirror pale and haunted. She hardly recognized herself anymore.

Her phone buzzed. A message appeared on the screen, Meet me. Noon. Old conservatory. Come alone.

The sender, Jessica.

The old conservatory sat on the edge of the park, long abandoned, its glass roof cracked and crawling with ivy. Inside, the air was damp, heavy with the scent of rotting wood and soil. Broken benches lined the walls, and weeds crept up through cracks in the tiles.

Jessica was waiting in the center, her figure cloaked in a dark coat. Her hair was tied back, her face pale but her eyes sharp, glittering with something close to triumph.

“You came,” Jessica said with a small smile. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

Olivia stood tall, even though her knees shook. “I don’t run. Not from you.”

Jessica’s smile widened. “Brave words for someone standing in a graveyard of glass.”

Olivia crossed her arms. “What do you want from me?”

Jessica tilted her head. “I already told you. Leave. Vanish from Ethan’s life. Let the vow die with me.”

“Why?” Olivia demanded. “Why now?”

Jessica’s expression darkened. “Because time is running out. For all of us.”

Olivia studied her closely, her mind flicking back to every story Jessica had told, the fainting spells, the hospital visits, the claims of illness. She had always used them as leverage, as a weapon to win sympathy, to pull Ethan back into her orbit.

“You’re not sick, are you?” Olivia asked suddenly.

Jessica’s smile froze.

“You poisoned yourself,” Olivia pressed, her voice growing stronger. “You made yourself weak so people would pity you. So Ethan would pity you.”

Jessica’s eyes gleamed. “You’re smarter than I thought.”

Olivia’s stomach turned. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because sympathy is power,” Jessica said coldly. “Because a woman’s tears can build more prisons than a man’s fist. Ethan pitied me. The world pitied me. They all saw me as the fragile, tragic wife. And while they were busy offering me their pity, I built my circle.”

“Your circle?”

Jessica stepped closer, her voice lowering. “The Mistress Circle. Betrayed women, abandoned wives. Together, we are stronger than the men who broke us. They thought we were weak. They were wrong.”

Olivia’s pulse raced. She remembered whispers of women who met in secret, rumors of rituals. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but Jessica’s eyes told her it was true.

“You hurt yourself,” Olivia whispered, “just to trap Ethan.”

Jessica’s lips curled. “And it worked. Didn’t it?”

Jessica reached into her coat and pulled out a small vial. The liquid inside glimmered dark green. She held it between them like an offering.

“This is what’s left,” Jessica said softly. “A single drop will burn through a body in hours. I know. I’ve tested it.”

Olivia felt bile rise in her throat.

“You’re insane,” she whispered.

“Perhaps.” Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “But insane women are often the only ones willing to do what is necessary. So hear me, Olivia: walk away. Leave Ethan. Leave the vow. Leave me with what is mine.”

“And if I don’t?”

Jessica leaned close, her voice a hiss. “Then I won’t be the only one poisoned. You’ll drink it too. And I’ll make sure Ethan watches.”

Olivia’s hands trembled at her sides, but she forced herself to stay calm. “You won’t win,” she said. “Even with your poison. Ethan sees you for what you are now.”

Jessica’s eyes flickered, the first crack in her mask. For a heartbeat, Olivia saw something raw, desperate, beneath the rage.

“You think he’ll choose you?” Jessica whispered. “You think love will save you? You’re wrong. Love is a knife. It cuts the one who holds it worst of all.”

Then, as if the mask slid back in place, Jessica straightened and smiled again. “Twenty four hours, Olivia. That is all.”

She slipped the vial back into her coat and turned, walking out of the conservatory without another word.

Olivia stood frozen, her breath ragged, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. She had expected lies, threats, but not this. Not poison. Not madness so sharp it could slice the air.

Back home, Olivia paced the floor. Her mind raced with Jessica’s words. The Mistress Circle. The poison. The ultimatum.

She needed Ethan. She needed to find him before Jessica’s deadline ran out.

She scoured his desk, his old journals, his files. At last, tucked inside a folder, she found a small flash drive. Her hands shaking, she plugged it into her laptop.

The screen flickered, and a video began to play.

It was Ethan, recorded weeks ago. His face was grim, his voice low.

“If you’re seeing this, Olivia, then I’ve failed to keep you out of it. Jessica’s circle is real. And worse, the senator funds it. Not out of pity, not out of guilt, but because he profits from the chaos. They use the women like pawns, distractions, even assassins. Jessica is only the beginning. If she says you have twenty four hours, believe her. And run.”

Olivia’s breath caught. She leaned closer to the screen, desperate.

“Most of all,” Ethan’s voice wavered, “don’t trust your father. He is part of it too.”

The screen went black.

Olivia sat frozen, her heart hammering, when a knock sounded at the door.

Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.

She rose on unsteady legs, every nerve screaming. She opened the door.

On the porch stood a small box, no one in sight. Rain dripped from the edges, soaking the cardboard.

She bent down, lifted it with trembling hands, and carried it inside. She placed it on the table and peeled it open.

Inside was a single item, a woman’s veil, torn and stained red. Beneath it, a note scrawled in hurried handwriting:

You have 12 hours now. The reckoning begins sooner.

Olivia’s scream echoed through the empty house as lightning split the sky…