LOGIN~ Ivy ~
"Sign the papers right now," Julian said, his voice as flat as a stone. I stared at the thick stack of white pages on my rolling hospital table. The words Petition for Dissolution of Marriage looked large and scary in the dim light. My hands were shaking so hard the sheets rattled. "I cannot do that," I whispered. My throat felt dry, like it was full of sand. "Our baby just died, Julian. How can you think about lawyers and money right now?" Julian did not move closer to comfort me. He stood near the door with his arms crossed over his expensive gray suit. "Do not talk to me about the baby. You lost my heir because you are clumsy. You tripped over your own feet in front of everyone." "I did not trip," I said, and a hot tear ran down my cheek. "Chloe pushed me. She used both of her hands and shoved me onto the marble floor. I told you that before they took me to the operating room. Why won't you believe me?" Julian let out a short, ugly laugh. He took two long steps toward my bed, and his tall shadow covered my face. "Chloe is a lady. She would never do something so disgusting. You are just trying to cover up your own failure. Look at you. You are weak. You are lazy. You could not even keep a pregnancy safe for more than a few weeks." The words felt like physical slaps. I pressed my palm against my flat stomach, missing the tiny spark of hope I had felt just days ago. "But you told me to get rid of it!" I cried out. The sudden movement made the stitches in my lower body hurt, and I gasped. "Two days ago, in our dining room, you told me to go to a clinic. You said you did not want a child with me. I thought... I thought you never wanted this baby anyway." The room went completely quiet. The only sound was the steady, annoying beep of the heart monitor next to my bed. Julian’s face turned dark red. A tiny muscle in his jaw jumped up and down. He looked at me with so much hatred that I wanted to pull the blanket over my head. "You fat fool," Julian hissed, leaning down until his face was only inches from mine. " You're a fool. A fool will always be a fool forever. You really thought you could understand what I wanted? You thought you could use a pregnancy to stay inside my house and spend my money?" "No," I whimpered, trying to slide away from him on the thin hospital mattress. "I just wanted to be a mom." "You do not deserve to be a mother," he said. Suddenly, his large, heavy hand reached out. His fingers clamped tightly around my throat. I gasped, but no air came into my mouth. He squeezed hard. His skin felt cold and rough against my neck. My eyes went wide, and the room started to spin in lazy circles. "I am going to say this one time," Julian whispered, his breath smelling of sweet wine and Chloe's floral perfume. "You will sign those papers. If you do not, I will personally destroy your father's company by tomorrow afternoon. I will leave your parents on the street, and everyone in this city will know it was because of you." I clawed weakly at his thick wrist. My fingernails dug into his skin, but he did not even flinch. I was too weak from the blood loss. My lungs felt like they were going to pop. "Julian... please... I can't breathe..." I choked out, the words barely making a sound. "Mr. Vance! Stop that right now!" The heavy wooden door flew open with a loud bang. A nurse in green scrubs rushed into the room, followed by a tall security guard in a dark uniform. The guard grabbed Julian’s shoulder and pulled him away from my bed. Julian let go of my neck. I fell back against the pillows, coughing violently and sucking in big gulps of air. My throat burned like fire. Julian did not look scared or embarrassed. He slowly pulled down the sleeves of his suit jacket and straightened his silk cuffs, acting like nothing had happened. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a heavy black pen, and tossed it onto my lap. "Sign the papers," Julian said, his voice completely calm again. "You are nothing to me now." He turned around and walked out of the room without looking back. The security guard followed him into the hallway to make sure he left the building. The nurse ran to my side. She checked the plastic tube in my arm and looked at my neck, where red finger marks were already turning purple. "Are you okay, ma'am? Do you want me to call the police?" I looked at the black pen on my lap. I looked at the divorce papers. If I called the police, Julian would only use his money to get out of trouble. Then he would destroy my family, and my mother would blame me for the rest of my life. I was too tired to fight anymore. "No," I whispered. I picked up the pen. My hand shook so badly the point poked a hole in the paper, but I forced myself to write my name on the bottom line. By eleven o'clock that night, the hospital room felt freezing cold. The doctor came in and told me I was stable enough to leave. Julian’s insurance had already canceled my room, so I had no choice. I stood up from the bed, my legs feeling like jelly. I was still wearing the thin paper hospital gown. The kind nurse who had saved me earlier came into the room holding a cheap, oversized brown jacket. "Here," she said gently, wrapping it around my shoulders. "It belongs to the lost-and-found, but you need it more than they do. Do you have a ride home?" "Yes," I lied. "Thank you." I walked out of the hospital doors into the dark night. The wind was blowing hard, making the trees hiss. I used the last bit of cash in my pocket to pay for a yellow taxi cab. The leather seat felt cold, and every time the car bumped over a hole in the road, a sharp pain shot through my stomach. I clutched the signed divorce papers against my chest like a shield. Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped in front of Vance Manor. The huge property was surrounded by a tall brick wall and massive black iron gates. The lights inside the big house were completely dark. I paid the driver, stepped out onto the gravel driveway, and the taxi sped away into the dark. Before I could even walk up to the gate, a small side door opened. A security guard named Bob stepped out. He was holding a large, brown cardboard box. He did not look at my face. He walked right up to me and dropped the box onto the dirt at my feet. "Master Julian said to give you this," Bob said, his voice rough. "He said you are not allowed inside the house anymore." I looked down into the box. Inside were two old sweaters, a pair of worn-out sneakers, and a few cheap shirts. My nice dresses, my jewelry, my family photos, and my art sketchbooks were not there. "Where is the rest of my stuff?" I asked, my voice cracking. "My grandmother's necklace? My drawings?" "Everything else stays here," Bob said. "Master Julian froze your bank cards too. He said you came with nothing, so you leave with nothing. Now step back from the gate." He walked back inside the small guardhouse and locked the door. I felt a wave of panic hit my chest. I ran to the iron bars and pressed the silver intercom button on the brick wall. It made a loud, buzzing noise. "Julian!" I screamed into the metal speaker, tears blurring my eyes. "Julian, please! I just lost our baby. I am still bleeding and I am weak. I have no money left for a taxi. Please just let me sleep in the guest cottage until the sun comes up." The intercom crackled with static. Then, Julian’s voice came through the speaker, sounding loud and sharp. "Shut up," he said. "I told you to get out of my sight. I do not care if you have to sleep on the street. Get off my property before I call the police to drag your fat body away." The intercom clicked off. A second later, the heavy iron gates moved with a loud, grinding sound, locking tight with a heavy metallic boom. I stood alone in the dark. The wind cut right through the cheap jacket the nurse had given me. I looked down at the cardboard box. I had no phone, no money, no husband, and no home. My own parents would not take me back after this embarrassment. I picked up the heavy box, my muscles aching with every inch I lifted. I turned away from the big house and started to walk down the dark road. The pavement was rough beneath my thin shoes. The streetlights were far apart, leaving long stretches of black shadow between them. I walked for what felt like miles, but my legs were getting heavier and heavier. My breath came out in short, ragged puffs. Suddenly, a terrible cramp ripped through my lower belly. I felt a warm, wet sensation stick to my legs. The bleeding was starting again. My knees wobbled. I tried to take one more step, but my body simply gave up. I tripped and fell forward onto the hard, freezing asphalt. The cardboard box flew out of my hands, hitting the road with a loud crash. The top opened up, and my old clothes spilled into the dirt. The white divorce papers caught the wind, scattering across the dark street like dead leaves. I lay on my side, my cheek pressed against the cold stone of the road. I could not lift my arms. I could not even cry anymore. I looked at the white papers fluttering away in the dark. "Maybe... everyone was right about me..." I whispered to the empty night. My eyelids felt like heavy lead weights. I closed them, and the cold darkness took me away.~ Ethan ~"Ethan, it isn’t just an accident anymore," Marcus Webb said. He dropped a thick manila folder onto the metal table, the sound flat and heavy in the cramped room.The county records basement smelled like decaying paper and burned breakroom coffee. Overhead, a dying fluorescent tube hummed a shrill, uneven note that had been drilling into my temples for twenty minutes. I sat with my hands locked together on the scratched laminate, surgical scrubs still smelling faintly of antiseptic. I hadn’t slept more than three hours in the last two days, and behind my eyes was a steady, thrumming ache."What did you dig up?" I asked.Webb tapped the edge of the folder. "Ohio. Five years back. College town outside Columbus. A kid named Miller was walking back from a campus bar when Chloe Bennett plowed her sports car onto the sidewalk. Shattered both his femurs. Three months in traction.""And not a mark on her record.""Her old man wrote a seven-figure check before the ink was dry on the
~ Ivy ~My fingers twisted the worn leather strap of my purse into knots. I sank deeper into the gray tweed couch in Dr. Wells’ office, digging the heels of my boots hard into the rug just to ground myself. On the wall, the round wooden clock clicked off the seconds. Usually that rhythm helped pull the air back into my lungs. Today, it sounded like a hammer tapping thin glass.Dr. Wells set her legal pad on the coffee table. She folded her hands over her knees, watching me with that patient, unblinking stillness that had saved my sanity more than once."You’re wound tight today, Ivy," she said softly. "Shoulders up, knuckles white. Talk to me.""My head won't stop spinning," I said, my throat catching on the words. "Ethan and I sat with Marcus Webb at the DA's office yesterday. Ethan brought in the full packet before sunrise this morning. It’s officially out of our hands, Dr. Wells. The detectives are pulling the surveillance feeds. They have Grace's sworn statement and the paramedic
~ Ethan ~"Drink this before it gets cold," Dad said, setting a ceramic mug of black coffee right on top of my open medical chart.I blinked against the harsh fluorescent glare of my desk lamp, rubbing the dull ache behind my eyes. "What time is it?""Past two in the morning," Richard replied, pulling up a visitor's chair and sitting down heavily. He looked at the paperwork scattered across my desk. "You performed two back-to-back craniotomies today, Ethan. You haven't left Northgate Medical Campus in eighteen hours, and now you are playing detective instead of sleeping.""I can't sleep," I said, sliding the medical files aside to reveal the manila folder beneath them. "The Assistant District Attorney, Marcus Webb, made it very clear this morning. He told us that Ivy's statement, the delayed 911 call, and the grainy security footage from the gala hallway are a great start, but they aren't bulletproof. Julian Vance's legal team will spin it as a tragic accident between two women who tr
~ Ivy ~ "Ms. Monroe, why report this now, over a year later?" Assistant District Attorney Marcus Webb asked. He did not look up from the open manila folder right away. He was an older man with short, graying hair, sharp brown eyes, and a gray suit that looked like it had seen ten hours of work today. His desk was stacked with tall piles of paper. I sat in a stiff wooden chair across from him. Ethan sat in the chair next to mine. Ethan did not interrupt. He simply placed his hand flat on the armrest of his chair, keeping his shoulder close to mine so I knew I was not alone. The question hung in the air. A year ago, a question like that would have made me shrink until my chin hit my collarbone. I would have thought he was blaming me. I would have thought he was saying, You waited too long, so it must be your fault. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat, straightened my spine, and looked right into his eyes. "Because for a year, I didn't have proof," I said, my voice coming out cle
~ Ivy ~I did not look at the windows. I looked at the thick brown folder resting on my lap. The paper felt rough against my fingers. Last night, Richard Knight had looked at that folder with grim certainty. "This is enough to act on," he had told us, his deep voice carrying no doubt. "Not just legally. It is enough so that no one will ever dare to call you a liar again." His words hung in the quiet morning room. My hands rested flat on the cardboard cover. I did not open it. Across the room, Ethan sat on the edge of the large wooden desk. His eyes watched me steadily. He did not rush me. He did not push the folder open. He simply waited. "Ethan," I said. My voice was low, barely louder than a whisper."I am right here, Ivy," he answered gently.I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. My fingers tightened on the edge of the folder, creasing the paper."Once this starts, I don't get to control how far it goes," I said. "Do I?" Ethan stood up from the desk. He walked over with slow,
~ Ivy ~I set my phone down on Ethan’s large wooden desk. My fingers tapped twice against the dark wood before I pulled them back into my lap."You said to come when I was ready," I said.Ethan sat in the leather chair beside mine. He had already opened his silver laptop, but the screen was turned slightly away toward the window. Across the desk from us sat Richard Knight. Richard did not have a medical coat on today. "Take a breath first, Ivy," Ethan said softly. He reached out and pushed a glass of water toward my hands. "We go at your speed. If you want to stop at any point, we stop.""I don't want to stop," I said. My voice did not shake. I surprised myself with how clear it sounded in the quiet study. "I spent over a year being told I made things up. I want to see what you found."Richard looked at Ethan, then gave a slow, firm nod. "Show her, son."Ethan turned the laptop so the screen faced me directly. He also opened the paper folder and laid four different items in a straigh







