Novel & Cerita Scandalized Ivy Owens

"They want to know why a billionaire heiress would pretend to be a beggar for three years." Ivy grabbed her coat. "Tell the press to meet me at the Academy library in one hour. If they want to know why I lived like a ghost, I'll show them the person who haunted me." She walked out of the office, but as she reached the elevator, her phone buzzed with a video. It was a live feed of the Academy. Bianca was standing in front of the school library, holding a lit match over a pile of books. Ivy’s books.

If it's a relationship or more than that, I don't know," Ivy replied, feeling very guilty. She repeatedly apologized to Olivia from the depths of her heart. She had often lied to the person she admired and respected. "You really don't know?" Olivia asked in a reassuring tone, to which Ivy only responded with a shake of her head. "This is weird," Olivia muttered, taking her eyes off Ivy. She stared straight ahead and was pensive. "How could my heart react like that when I met Zayden Sanders? It's like my heart recognizes him. What the hell is going on? Did I really have a secret relationship with that man without Ivy's knowledge?" Olivia's heart sank there. "Um, does that really bother you? P

“We are live in three, two...” Clearing her throat, the interview went live, people started watching immediately, filled with intrigue to know what we had to say about the pregnancy. “Welcome, viewers,” the interviewer, Lia James, beamed. “We are here with Zayne Nightwood and Kristine Iglesias, following the… scandalous news of their unexpected pregnancy.” “The word ‘scandal’ is inaccurate, Lia,” Zayne interrupted, his voice deep, smooth, and laced with a strange affection. “What is accurate then, Mr. Nightwood?”

"Oh, don’t act coy. Everyone knows the story. You had the billionaire wrapped around your finger, living the dream. Then you ran off with some Korean pretty boy and almost cleaned out Bentley’s accounts. Tell me, Ivy—was that just another phase of your ‘desperation,’ or was it something else?” Ivy’s blood ran cold. She searched his face for any sign of leniency, but all she found was cold curiosity, as though she were some fascinating case study. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mouth dry as she scrambled to find the right words. “I…” She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “It was greed.” There was no need to lie and she knew it. Her life was at stake here and she didn't wa

“Further investigation made it clear that it was an Ivy who orchestrated it all.” “Ivy?” I echoed, my stomach twisting. Alaric’s gaze snapped to me. “You know her?” I hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. A few days ago, at the store…” I quickly recounted my unpleasant encounter with Ivy—the way she had thrown a tantrum over a dress and nearly caused a scene. Alaric exhaled sharply. “I can’t believe she’d try to have you both killed over something as small as that.” “That’s just it,” Damian interjected. “I thought it was weird too. Not the part where you can’t believe that was enough incentive—it is. She’s known to be extremely petty.”

Vane tapped a tablet screen, turning it toward Dante. The news cycle had moved with predatory speed. A montage of images flashed across the screen: Dante’s face under the headline THE MONSTER OF THE ALPS; a grainy video of Ivy being "rescued" from the sub-cellar (a staged lie); and a weeping Arthur St. Claire holding up a childhood photo of Ivy.

Just cold, professional correspondence through assistants. Ivy poured herself a generous glass of scotch, not caring that it was barely noon. Her perfectly curated life was unraveling at an alarming rate, and she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, somewhere, Serena was laughing at her downfall. "It has to be her," Ivy whispered, a dangerous gleam in her eye. "Lady Lazuli... Serena... they must be connected." Ivy drained her glass and stared out at the city skyline. She hadn't clawed her way to the top just to be dethroned by some mysterious newcomer.

The image was still there,burned into my mind. Ivy’s smile. Her hand in that bastard’s. The way her head tilted back when she laughed like she didn’t have a care in the world. She looked free. Too free. I took a slow sip, jaw tense. She was supposed to be mine,at least publicly. Not parading around in tight dresses and smiling at old flames like a single girl on vacation. This was why the contract had rules. No scandals. No disrespect. No emotional complications. And definitely no headlines that made me look like a fool.

She stood hidden in place as she took pictures of the compromising scene of Jane with the mysterious man on her phone. A sly smile spread across her face as her eyes gleamed with malice. She quickly forward the picture to the projector screen in the private dining room. “Ohh Jane! You wouldn’t know what hit you when I’m done with you. Didn’t you want to marry Leonard? Let's see how you marry him after everyone has seen how shameless you are.” Ivy whispered to herself happily, sashaying back to the private room.

But thanks to the cover of the compressor's booming sound, anyone else would only think it was the sounds of a machine vibrating. I had someone bring me a chair, then sat elegantly in front of the container. I watched the temperature fall on the display and found it deeply satisfying. On my phone was the last message Olivia had sent me: [Ivy, thank you for sponsoring me. I'll work hard to repay you.] A cute heart emoji followed that message. Repay me? Fine. Then repay me with your life. I, Ivy Greendale, was someone who repaid all grudges in kind. If they dared to do that, then they should not be afraid of me finding out.