Home / Urban / From Prison Bars To Gold Bars. / 118. Ivy Wilson Or Bianca Miller?
118. Ivy Wilson Or Bianca Miller?
Author: Kayysemiu023
last update2025-02-23 03:16:31

Two days later and Ivy was already living with them. Sarah and Marcus Miller had two other daughters. One was eighteen years, while the other was fifteen.

Somehow it all still felt like a dream to Ivy, not only had she found the people who took care of her, she had also gained two baby sisters, and they seemed to like her.

The eighteen year old, Rosie, was calm and quiet. She hardly talked and she loved to be by herself.

While the fifteen year old, Laura had a more outgoing and sassy personality, like Macy.

Thinking about Macy always took Ivy's mind back to Van, and it made her feel sad.

She remembered the last time she saw him, he had looked so hurt. Were they really over just like that?

Ever since their fight, he hadn't called or texted. Ivy suspected that he might have even gone back to Brimseville. She knew she was the one who asked him to go, but she wished he didn't.

Before, her mind was set on finding her foster parents because she thought it was the key to ultimate happi
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  • 362. Build From The Past

    Van knew something was wrong the moment he entered his office Monday morning.The front desk staff barely looked at him. Two department heads who usually greeted him with warmth avoided his eyes. And when his assistant handed him the morning summary, her fingers trembled slightly.He read the top line and froze.“Leaked Documents Suggest Long Term Financial Misconduct Tied to Everest Holdings.”It had begun.“Source?” he asked.“No confirmation yet,” She said. “But whoever leaked it… they knew exactly what to release.”Van’s heart pounded as he scanned the summary. The documents were real. Years old reports showing questionable transfers under his father’s name. Several tied to campaign funding in foreign accounts. The report was vague enough not to indict Van personally —but damaging enough to create a storm.“They’re painting us all with the same brush,” he muttered.“That’s not the worst part,” She added, her face grim. “Andrew just gave a statement to the press.”Van slowly lifted

  • 361. The Aftermath Of Courage

    The press conference had ended hours ago, but the storm was just beginning.By the time Van returned to his office, his phone had already flooded with calls, texts, emails. Some were congratulatory— quiet pats on the back from those who’d long suspected something was wrong. Others were… less friendly.One board member threatened resignation. Another accused him of betrayal. Anonymous social media accounts started whispering about skeletons and scandals. A few even hinted that Van’s father hadn’t acted alone.Van stood in his office, tie loosened, shirt collar open. He stared out at the gray sky with the phone still buzzing in his hand.He had expected backlash. But not like this.His assistant stepped in quietly. “Sir, the phones haven’t stopped. Channel 8 wants a live interview. The Tribune just released an article about it — favorable, surprisingly. And your mother called three times. She said… and I quote… ‘You’re either about to change the world or destroy what’s left of us.’”Van

  • 360. Rooftop And A Conference

    The Westmont building had been abandoned for years.Once a symbol of high rise ambition, the skeletal structure now loomed over the edge of the city like a forgotten ghost. Its scaffolding was rusted, its elevators inoperable, and its name had long since been scraped from the marble lobby wall. Yet tonight, it would serve as the setting for a conversation that might alter the course of Van’s life.He arrived just before midnight, dressed in a simple dark coat and boots. No entourage. No driver. Just him and the city, veiled in fog.The security gate had been left open —deliberately, no doubt. He pushed through, boots crunching softly on gravel and broken glass. The building was quiet except for the wind moaning between the steel girders.Van climbed thirteen flights of cracked concrete stairs before reaching the roof.Andrew was already there.He stood near the edge, hands in the pockets of his long coat, his posture casual. But Van knew better. His brother was never casual about anyt

  • 357. The Weight Of The Truth

    Van stood before the towering windows of his office, the city below awash in a gray drizzle that blurred the skyline. From up here, everything seemed so distant —quiet and orderly. But beneath the polished surface of the glass and steel, things were unraveling. He could feel it.It had been a month since the meeting with his family. Andrew had grown unusually distant since then, barely answering Van’s calls and avoiding internal meetings under the guise of travel or back -to -back commitments. Van had let it slide for a while— he didn’t want to push too hard —but the silence was starting to weigh on him.This morning’s reports had only made it worse. A quiet investigation he had launched into the company’s archival records revealed a number of discrepancies in the years Andrew had handled strategic partnerships. Most of the flagged deals were with now defunct shell companies, structured in a way that ensured they flew under radar. There wasn’t anything definitive yet. But Van trusted

  • 357. The Weight Of The Truth

    Van stood before the towering windows of his office, the city below awash in a gray drizzle that blurred the skyline. From up here, everything seemed so distant —quiet and orderly. But beneath the polished surface of the glass and steel, things were unraveling. He could feel it.It had been a month since the meeting with his family. Andrew had grown unusually distant since then, barely answering Van’s calls and avoiding internal meetings under the guise of travel or back -to -back commitments. Van had let it slide for a while— he didn’t want to push too hard —but the silence was starting to weigh on him.This morning’s reports had only made it worse. A quiet investigation he had launched into the company’s archival records revealed a number of discrepancies in the years Andrew had handled strategic partnerships. Most of the flagged deals were with now defunct shell companies, structured in a way that ensured they flew under radar. There wasn’t anything definitive yet. But Van trusted

  • 357. The Weight Of The Truth

    Van stood before the towering windows of his office, the city below awash in a gray drizzle that blurred the skyline. From up here, everything seemed so distant —quiet and orderly. But beneath the polished surface of the glass and steel, things were unraveling. He could feel it.It had been a month since the meeting with his family. Andrew had grown unusually distant since then, barely answering Van’s calls and avoiding internal meetings under the guise of travel or back -to -back commitments. Van had let it slide for a while— he didn’t want to push too hard —but the silence was starting to weigh on him.This morning’s reports had only made it worse. A quiet investigation he had launched into the company’s archival records revealed a number of discrepancies in the years Andrew had handled strategic partnerships. Most of the flagged deals were with now defunct shell companies, structured in a way that ensured they flew under radar. There wasn’t anything definitive yet. But Van trusted

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