Chapter 7
Ethan's POV
Ivy's crumpled body lay motionless on the marble floor. Her wheelchair had toppled sideways, and blood trickled from a cut on her forehead. My blood ran cold at the sight.
"Lucy, what the hell are you doing!" The words ripped from my throat as I stared at Lucy, who stood there with an expression of utter contempt.
"Ethan, don't blame her." Ivy's voice trembled. "I just... lost my balance. You know how unstable I can be..."
I rushed to help her, my hands shaking with rage as I checked her injuries. "Are you okay?" I snarled at Lucy without looking up. "You pushed her?"
"So what? Why did you terrorize my uncle's business?" Lucy's voice cut like ice. "To force me to keep supplying blood for her?"
The accusation made my head snap up. Her eyes held nothing but cold disdain.
"Take good care of your precious Ivy," she said, turning away. "Hurry up and sign the divorce papers."
"We're not done here." I caught her wrist.
"Oh, we are." She yanked free with surprising force. "Go ahead, double the rent. Triple it. It doesn't matter - I'm done being your puppet."
She turned to leave. I quickly made sure Ivy was safely back in her wheelchair before going after Lucy. The sight of her walking away, head held high like she hadn't just shattered everything, made something snap inside me.
I caught up to her at the entrance just as she was reaching for a taxi door. Without a word, I grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the waiting Rolls.
"Let go of me!" She fought against my grip. "Haven't you done enough? Destroying my uncle's restaurant, threatening his livelihood-"
She struggled to get free, and I held her hard, threatening to fall back. She struggled to get free, and I held her hard, threatening, "Behave yourself, or I'll fuck you right now."
She stiffened, giving me a disbelieving look. I watched her soft, cherry-tinted lips part ever so slightly, a flush of color blooming across her cheeks like delicate rose petals. My throat went dry as I leaned in for a kiss.
"I saw you kissing her," she interjected in a calm yet eerie voice, halting my intentions. "Was that all part of the plan?"
"Kiss her? What are you talking about?"
"Stop lying!" Her laugh was bitter. "The hotel called me because you were drunk, remember? I saw everything, Ethan. She kissed-"
"Lucy-"
"And now you're using my family to control me? My uncle's restaurant? Really?" She turned to face me, and I saw tears glinting in her eyes. "Just let me go. You can have Ivy, the company, everything. I don't want any of it."
"You're my wife."
"I'm your prisoner." She pressed herself against the door, as far from me as possible. "Your personal blood bank for Ivy. Nothing more."
The words hit harder than I expected. Silence filled the car like a thick fog, minutes stretching into what felt like hours. My head throbbed from the alcohol, yet her sweet scent remained dizzyingly clear.
The car suddenly jerked to a halt at a red light. Lucy pitched forward, and I instinctively caught her, my arm wrapping around her slender waist. Her soft body melted into my embrace, her hair brushing against my chin. In her sleep, she nuzzled against my chest.
Damn it!
Her warm breath seeped through my shirt, her parted lips tantalizingly close. My throat tightened as my fingers inadvertently found a patch of bare skin at her waist. In the flickering streetlights, her sleeping face looked incredibly peaceful, her furrowed brow now relaxed, long lashes casting delicate shadows across her cheeks.
Unfamiliar emotions warred in my chest. I drew in a deep breath, yet couldn't bring myself to remove my arm from around her.
My jaw clenched as I remembered her words about the kiss.
"James," I called to my assistant. "Get the hotel's security footage from tonight. All of it. I want to know exactly what happened in that VIP room."
Ivy's POV
My hand trembled as I watched the security footage Ethan had sent, showing me kissing him.
The phone rang. I took a deep breath, composing myself. "Ethan! How's Lucy? I feel terrible about what happened..."
His voice was glacial. "The kiss, Ivy. Explain."
My heart skipped a beat. "Oh, that..." I let out a shaky laugh. "You were swaying in your chair - quite drunk. I was just steadying your shoulders when you suddenly leaned forward. Our faces were too close and..." I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice casual. "It was just an accidental brush of lips. Nothing more."
"Accidental." His tone made it clear he didn't believe me.
"Of course! You know I'd never..."
And thank goodness there weren't any cameras in that corridor. I held my breath, but Ethan still didn't seem to trust me.
Time to change tactics. "How is Lucy taking all this? Will she still donate blood for my treatment?"
His silence spoke volumes.
"You know," I kept my voice soft, understanding, "it's okay if you've grown... attached to her. After everything she's done for me-"
"I haven't." The sharpness in his voice made me pause. "And you won't need her blood anymore. I'm looking for Dr. Anderson to take over your treatment. Just need some time."
Dr. Anderson was the most renowned specialist in the country, but he was so mysterious that it was hard for anyone to track him down. My heart soared - Ethan still cared about me.
"You don't..." I hesitated for effect. "You don't love her, do you?"
"She's my wife," he said flatly.
"That's not what I asked."
Another pause. Then, "No. I don't love her."
Pure triumph surged through me. I barely heard the rest of his words. He didn't love her. All these years, I'd worried that perfect, brilliant Lucy might actually capture his heart. But she was just a convenience, nothing more.
I ended the call with appropriately contrite words about being more careful in the future. Then I wheeled myself to my bedroom window, looking out over the manicured grounds of the Wilson estate.
Soon Lucy would be gone, and everything would be as it should be. I'd be the perfect Mrs. Storm. The role I was born to play.
And Lucy? She could go back to whatever dreary little life she'd had before. After all, I'd given her a year in prison to practice living without luxury.
My phone lit up with another message - Mother, asking about tonight's incident. I smiled as I typed my response. Everything was falling into place.
I touched the tender spot on my head where I'd hit the floor. A small price to pay for victory. Next time, I wouldn't have to pretend to fall - next time, Lucy would be the one going down.
Permanently.