2024-09-13 01:27:53
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287. Secret?? Or Just A Plot
Van didn’t sleep that night. He couldn't. He laid in bed next to Ivy, listening to the rhythm of her breathing, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest in the moonlight that came in through the curtains. The city hummed beyond the windows —car horns, a far- off siren, the low hush of night wind— but none of it was loud enough to drown out the voice in his head.Lila’s voice.“Leave Ivy, and I’ll tell you a secret about your family.”“Someone you’ve trusted your entire life.”He exhaled slowly, quietly. Ivy shifted in her sleep, her hand brushing against his. Even in her rest, she reached for him.It wrecked him a little.He turned his face to the ceiling and closed his eyes.She didn’t know.Not about Lila showing up today. Not about what she said. Not about the seed of poison now blooming behind his ribs.He’d told her the truth after the mansion incident.Every detail.But this?This wasn’t his truth yet. Just a threat. Just Lila’s game.Still —it felt like betrayal not to s
286. Something You Don't Know
Lila didn’t need to be close to see.She had the angle. The lenses. The patience.The park was a perfect theater —no cover, no shadows. The benches curved around the fountain in a soft crescent, like an audience waiting for a show to start.And there she was.Ivy.Sunglasses on. Shoulders squared. Hair pulled into a neat twist, not a strand out of place. The twins laughing beside her, tugging at the edges of her coat, full of questions and sticky fingers and joy.Lila didn’t blink.She studied every detail.The way Ivy sat, spine straight. The way she smiled, but not too much. A practiced smile, not born of ease but purpose.She was performing.Not for the children.For her.Lila shifted slightly behind the tinted windows of her borrowed car. She didn’t need to get closer. She’d done this long enough to know when someone was trying to speak without words.Ivy was saying;I know you’re watching. And I’m not afraid.Lila’s fingers clenched on her lap. She forced herself to relax them.T
285. The Bouquet
It was the scent that stopped her. Faint. Sweet. Familiar in the worst way possible.Ivy had been folding laundry in the upstairs hallway when she passed the foyer and noticed something odd —an arrangement sitting just inside the front door, neatly placed on the entryway table. The twins were upstairs. The housekeeper hadn’t come today and Van was still at work.She hadn’t ordered flowers.She moved toward them slowly, her fingers pausing just above the delicate tulip petals.Pale yellow. Fresh. Trimmed clean at the base, tied with a dark green ribbon.No card. No sender. Just silence.A chill crept through her spine. She didn’t touch them. Not yet.She didn’t need to.She knew.Van came home an hour later, his jacket slung over one shoulder and tie already loosened. He looked tired— but he always looked tired these days.Ivy was waiting for him in the living room.He paused when he saw the arrangement on the coffee table. “Did… you get those for me?”“No,” she said softly. “They were
284. Psychopath
It started with a phone call.Not from Van. Not from the kids’ school but from Macy.“Ivy,” she said, breathless. “I just saw her.”Ivy was standing in the middle of the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread still in the air. “Who?”“Lila. I swear it was her. At the corner of Eighth and Bell. She was wearing a big coat and sunglasses, but I’d know that walk anywhere.”Ivy’s stomach dropped.“You’re sure?”“I followed her for half a block, but she ducked into one of those new cafés. Ivy, she looked right at me—and smiled.”Ivy hung up only after reassuring Macy she was fine. But the second the call ended, she grabbed her coat and keys.She didn’t tell Van.Not yet.She needed to see for herself.The cafe was one of those minimalist places with matte black walls and gold -stemmed light fixtures. Ivy walked past it twice before she worked up the nerve to step inside.It was quiet. Midday lull.Only a few patrons sat scattered in the sleek booths— one woman in a blazer tapping on a laptop, tw
283. Suspicions
The mansion breathed easier these days.There was laughter in the kitchen again —soft and shy, but real. Ivy had started watering the balcony plants herself, a habit she’d dropped during the winter. Van had moved some of his meetings to remote calls so he could be home more often, especially in the mornings when the twins were at their wildest.The twins were thriving. Drawing spaceships and running around the halls, loud and confident. Ivy loved the noise. It made the house feel lived in.Still, the quiet between the joyful moments had a tension to it. Something unspoken.A waiting.On Wednesday, Ivy spent the afternoon organizing the front hall closet. It wasn’t necessary— it was already tidy —but her hands needed something to do. She was halfway through sorting winter coats when she found it.A pale green scarf, silk, expensive.Not hers.Not from her kids.Not from Van.Her chest tightened.She recognized it.Lila had worn it the week before she left.Ivy sat back on her heels, st
282. A Family
The mansion woke slowly, Sunlight dripped through the tall windows, warm and golden, and the smell of coffee curled through the halls like an invitation. Ivy stood barefoot in the kitchen, her hair in a loose braid, sleeves rolled up as she whisked pancake batter in a white ceramic bowl. She didn’t glance up when Van entered. But he didn’t need her to. He moved to the counter beside her and reached for a pan, the same way he used to when they first moved into this place— before the titles, before the staff, before everything got so complicated. No words passed between them for a few minutes. Just the scrape of the whisk, the sizzle of butter, the low murmur of the twins upstairs. Finally, Van said quietly, “I can make the coffee.” “I already did.” He nodded. “Pancakes smell good.” “They’re not healthy,” she said without looking at him. “I’m spoiling them.” “They could use a little spoiling.” That earned him the smallest smile. Not full. Not forgiving. But somethin
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