Mag-log in"What game?” Ivy asked, her voice sharp, brittle with restrained fury.Asher’s eyes did not leave her face. He stood too close, close enough for her to feel his warmth, his presence pressing against her senses.“I want you to stop pretending to be Eva Stone,” he said calmly, dangerously so, “and be with me.”Something inside her snapped.Her hands curled into fists, shoulders tensing as anger surged up her spine. “You don’t get to decide that,” she snapped, breath quickening. “You don’t get to tell me who I am or what I do with my life.”Her voice rose, fury spilling out before she could stop it.Before the sound could fully leave her throat, Asher moved.His hand came up fast, firm, covering her mouth. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, restraining without hurting. His grip was solid, unyielding.“Don’t,” he said low against her ear. “Shouting and getting hyper is not good for you.”Her eyes burned with rage as she glared at him, chest rising
Asher stood rigidly behind the doctor, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the office couch where Ivy lay unconscious.An hour had passed.An entire hour of silence that felt heavier than any argument, heavier than her screams, heavier than the weight of everything he had buried for three years.The room still looked exactly like it had frozen in the moment she collapsed. Pillows on the floor. Bedsheets are messy. A lamp knocked sideways. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, fear, and something unbearably familiar.Guilt.Downstairs, Adrian had been pacing like a caged animal when Asher had stormed down moments after Ivy lost consciousness. His voice had been sharp, clipped, unyielding.“Call the doctor,” Asher had ordered, eyes dark, hands fisted at his sides. “Now. The one on retainer for the Cole Group. Tell him it’s urgent.”Adrian had not argued. One look at Asher’s face had been enough. He had already been dialing before Asher finished speaking, his worry barely concea
“Murdered?”The word left his mouth like a question, stunned and fractured, as if his mind could not make sense of it fast enough.“Yes,” she screamed, the sound tearing out of her chest. “Murdered. I was murdered, Asher Cole. Ivy Marlowe was murdered.”Her entire body shook as she strained against the restraints, tears streaming unchecked down her face. Her voice rose, raw and broken, echoing against the walls of the dark room.“The girl you are looking for is long gone,” she continued, shouting now, every word soaked in years of pain. “You people trampled her soul. You crushed her dignity and her dreams like she was nothing. Like a low insect beneath your feet.”Something in him broke at the sound of her voice.Without another word, Asher reached forward and freed her hands.The restraints loosened, and the moment she felt it, the dam inside her collapsed completely. She sobbed hysterically, shoulders caving in as she curled forward, clutching at the sheets like they were the only t
The darkness was the first thing she registered.Not complete, not suffocating, but thick enough to disorient her. Ivy stirred slowly, a dull ache blooming behind her temples, like the aftermath of a storm that had not fully passed. Her lashes fluttered, eyes opening to shadows and faint light. “Where am I?” She asked herself.A narrow stream of moonlight slipped in through a window somewhere to her side, pale and distant. Farther away, a lamp glowed near a table, its soft halo barely cutting through the room.Her breath hitched.She shifted, instinctively trying to orient herself, and felt the unmistakable softness beneath her. A bed. Large. Plush. Too comfortable for a place she did not recognize.For a brief, treacherous second, relief crept in.Then she tried to move her arms.Cold bit into her wrists.Her eyes flew open as panic slammed into her chest, sharp and immediate. Her hands were restrained on both sides of the bed, secured tightly enough to hold her but not enough to nu
The back seat feels colder than it should.Ivy sits with her hands folded tightly in her lap, posture straight, face calm to anyone watching. Her eyes are lowered, lashes shadowing her expression, but her mind is sharp, too sharp. She counts turns. Streetlights. Seconds between intersections. The rhythm of the city slipping away.She knows this drive is wrong.The hum of the engine changes, rougher now. The smooth asphalt gives way to uneven pavement. The lights outside thin, stretch farther apart, then disappear altogether.Darkness presses in from the windows.Her gaze lifts slowly.Trees.Not buildings. Not traffic. Not the predictable grid of the city.Forest.Her pulse spikes, but her face remains composed. “This isn’t the station,” she says evenly, breaking the silence.No response.The car turns again, sharper this time, gravel crunching under the tires. Ivy leans forward slightly, her reflection faint in the glass partition.“Where are you taking me?” Her voice hardens. “You m
COLE MANSIONThe Cole mansion felt unnervingly quiet when Riley stepped inside, the kind of silence that was not peaceful but watchful, heavy, pressing against her ears and settling deep in her chest. Even before she fully crossed the threshold, she felt it. That subtle tightening in her lungs. That instinctive sense that something was already wrong.Her heels slowed against the polished marble floor as her eyes adjusted to the dim, elegant lighting of the formal living room.Then she saw them.Her parents.They sat side by side on the cream-colored sofa, their posture stiff, their expressions far too serious for a casual visit. Her mother’s hands were clasped together so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone pale. Her father sat straight-backed, shoulders squared, his jaw set in a way Riley recognized all too well. That was his thinking face. His bracing-for-impact face.Riley stopped walking altogether.“Mom? Dad?” Her voice came out softer than she intended, threaded with c







