All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Wrong Pet: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Willis: Still awake? She looked at the message again. Two words. A question mark. How could she let Arlo get into her head like this? She snapped out such thoughts. Of course, Willis wasn’t angry. Not really. She should’ve known that by now—he never held grudges, not with her. Ivory: Can’t sleep. A minute passed. Willis: Me neither. Ivory tried to suppress the forming questions in her head. The silence between replies was full—of things unsaid, a question eating at her. Does he like me? She had felt the shift in their friendship, especially recently, but did he want her the way Arlo said? Despite her baggage? She typed the question. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted. Her fingers trembled. Finally, she couldn’t take it. The wondering. The ache. It only deepened. She needed the answer. She needed to know if there was more to their friendship. But most importantly. She needed to know if Arlo’s concerns were true. She threw on a coat over her pajamas. —— Twen

Ivory didn’t remember driving. One moment, she was in her apartment, still replaying last night in her head, and the next, she was standing outside Hollis Atelier, staring at Denise’s pale, frantic face.“They’re calling us thieves,” Denise blurted the moment she opened the door. “Saying we copied a design from Gracia Belle. It’s everywhere. Twitter, TikTok, Threads—God, even LinkedIn.”Ivory stepped inside. The usual soft clatter of fabric being pinned, sewing machines humming, quiet laughter—gone. The studio was too quiet. Too tense. Everyone’s eyes lifted when they saw her, and in them, she saw a mixture of fear and hope. They needed her to fix this. To protect what they’d built.Denise led her to her desk and pulled up the screen. Ivory’s chest tightened. A slick, overly-edited video was circulating: a side-by-side of their signature dress and one from a luxury house. “This is theft,” the voiceover accused. “Mid fashion disguised as originality.”Ivory clenched her jaw. “It’s not

The next morning, Ivory stepped into the studio. The air was already wrong. The silence too heavy. Her heels clicked over the floor like a countdown until she reached the truth.Miranda looked up from her desk, pale.“Ivy…” she said, rising slowly, “you should see this.”Ivory didn’t have to be told twice. She was already walking toward the screen Miranda had turned. There it was—her sketch. The spring gown. The lines, the drape, even the handwritten note in the corner. It was unmistakably hers.But it wasn’t her name underneath.“‘Gracie Belle’s head designer drops a bombshell,’” Miranda read aloud, voice hollow. “‘A visionary new design, unveiled early this morning.’’”Ivory stared. For a long second, she didn’t blink. She just…stood.The post had over a hundred thousand likes. Comments poured in, praising the elegance of the piece. Industry names were resharing it. Fashion accounts called it the beginning of a new era. Flashy yet elegant. It was fierce yet humble.Her sketch.Post

The countdown had begun. Each second that passed, raised the stakes and it came with tension.Forty minutes to go. The press, influencers, and fashion lovers had all gathered in clusters, their eyes glued to their devices, awaiting the hour of truth. The museum curator had announced a few minutes ago. “The answer has not yet been received.”And the sentence sent ripples through the internet. Was Gracie Belle trying to make a grand entrance by responding at the last minute? The last minutes were closing in, and the answer had not yet been received? Were they truly guilty? Had they stolen this design? Fashion blogs, mainstream media, and social platforms erupted in a frenzy. The world seemed to stop and stare meanwhile, Ivory sat hunched over her desk. She was holding her breath. Her phone had been ringing incessantly. Everyone had questions. So Ivory had decided to ignore the calls completely, but this time, the unknown caller was determined. Ivory stared at it. Her heart droppe

Chapter 90It was late. Past midnight. The kind of hour where nothing good ever happens unless you’ve been waiting for it.Willis had just returned from rinsing his face when he heard the knock. It wasn’t loud or urgent. It was hesitant—like whoever stood behind the door wasn’t sure they should be there.He pulled it open.Ivory stood on the threshold, her coat damp from the night air, a bottle of red wine clutched in her hand. She didn’t say anything. Neither did he.Simply, he stepped aside.Ivory walked in, slowly, her eyes swept through the room like it had changed since she last stood here. It hadn’t. That strangeness she felt was just the space between them—him, the furniture, the air itself, her. Willis looked at her with indifference— pretense indifference— he could never hate her. He’d only been trying to live around her absence.“Why aren’t you in bed?” The words plopped down despite his indifference.“That darn concern of yours...” Ivory muttered under her breath. Willi